#there are more coming but i figured it would be easier to update this with preferences now and then update it more frequently than wait

[hahnshands]

~ trouble ~

agathario college roommate AU stories

context: Agatha Harkness is an outgoing, people person who fits into every room steps into and every group she talks to, on the other hand her roommate Rio Vidal, could not think of anything worse than being that kind of person, she would much rather focus on her artwork as she is studying art but having Agatha as a roommate is proving to me a little more challenging than she first thought when Rio notices herself drawing a very familiar face…

pairings: agatha x rio extrovert!agatha x introvert!rio popular!agatha x artist!rio

Authors note: i’ll be updating this every now and then :)

The second Agatha Harkness walked into their shared dorm room on move-in day, Rio Vidal knew she was in trouble. Trouble because Agatha exuded the kind of cool confidence that made people want to orbit her. Trouble because Rio, the self-proclaimed queen of her own quiet solitude, the tortured artist, knew she needs to pass this year to graduate and it didn’t look like she was going to have a distraction free dorm room.

It didn’t help that Agatha’s side of the room was already immaculate—her bed made with precise folds, her books alphabetized, and a lavender-scented diffuser softly puffing away on her desk. Meanwhile, Rio had a half-unpacked suitcase on her bed and an open box of paints that she’d immediately forgotten about the second she found her sketchbook.

Agatha was eyeing the chaos on Rio’s side of the room with a bemused smile, “You’re one of those people”

“And you’re one of those,” Rio had shot back, waving a paint-streaked hand at the perfectly arranged lavender diffuser.

Agatha just laughed, brushing her sleek dark hair over her shoulder. “Stick with me, Vidal. You might learn something.”

A month into the semester, Rio was beginning to suspect Agatha had some kind of secret powers. There was no other explanation for how she managed to ace every class, charm every professor, and still find time to breeze into their room at night with perfectly styled hair and some wild story about how she’d ‘influenced’ the coffee shop barista into giving her a free latte.

“All I did was ask politely,” Agatha said one evening, lounging on her bed and flipping through a novel that Rio was certain she wasn’t actually reading.

“Sure,” Rio replied, smirking as she bent over her sketchbook. “You ‘politely’ hypnotized them into thinking you deserved it.”

Agatha quirked an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of witch.”

“Hey, if the pointy hat fits…”

Agatha’s laugh was low and throaty, the kind that sent a weird little shiver up Rio’s spine. She ignored it, focusing instead on the sketch taking shape on the page.

“Are you ever going to show me what you’re drawing?” Agatha asked after a pause, her tone light but curious.

“Nope,” Rio replied without looking up.

“Oh, come on,” Agatha said, leaning over the edge of her bed. “I’ll bet it’s brilliant. Is it me? You’ve been staring at me an awful lot lately.”

Rio’s pencil froze mid-stroke. Her brain scrambled for a retort that wouldn’t give her away. “You’re flattering yourself, Harkness.”

Agatha slid off her bed, crossing the room with that effortless confidence she always carried. Before Rio could protest, Agatha plopped down beside her on the floor, close enough that Rio could smell the faint lavender clinging to her sweater.

“Let me see,” Agatha said, her voice soft but insistent.

“No,” Rio replied, clutching the sketchbook to her chest like a lifeline.

Agatha tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Fine. But I’ll figure it out eventually. I always figure things out, my love.”

Later that night, long after Agatha had fallen asleep, Rio sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the sketch. It wasn’t finished, but the likeness was unmistakable—Agatha, with her sharp features and sly smile, caught mid-laugh.

Rio sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Trouble,” she muttered to herself.

PART 2

If Rio thought living with Agatha was going to get easier, she was delusional.

Further into the semester, Agatha’s relentless teasing had become as regular as Rio’s late-night sketching sessions. Every time Rio thought she’d found a way to ignore her, Agatha would up the ante—stealing glances at her sketchbook, throwing dramatic compliments her way, or offering entirely unsolicited critiques of her work.

“You know,” Agatha said one afternoon, sprawled on Rio’s bed like it was her own, “I’m starting to think all this brooding over your art is just an excuse to stare at me.”

Rio looked up from her canvas, her charcoal smudged fingers poised mid-stroke. “I’m sorry, what?”

Agatha propped her head on her hand, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder like she’d walked out of some impossibly chic fashion shoot. “You’re always hunched over that thing when I’m in the room. I’m beginning to think I’m your muse.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but her heart betrayed her by racing just a little too fast. “Don’t flatter yourself, Harkness.”

“Why not? You seem to do enough of that for me,” Agatha replied, her grin sharp and smug.

Rio muttered something under her breath and turned back to her drawing. The charcoal on the page was starting to smudge—Agatha’s sharp jawline softening at the edges—but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The truth was, Agatha had become a fixation for her. Not that she would ever admit it. Agatha’s confidence was already insufferable enough; the last thing she needed was for her to know she was the source of half Rio’s sketchbook.

“Come on, let me see,” Agatha said, swinging her legs off the bed and landing lightly on her feet.

“No,” Rio said automatically, shifting her body to block the canvas.

Agatha moved closer, her lavender perfume wrapping around Rio like a net. “Why not? Afraid I’ll fall in love with your depiction of me?”

“I’m afraid your ego will implode and take out half the campus.” Rio shot back

Agatha laughed, her voice low and throaty, and leaned over Rio’s shoulder. Her proximity was maddening—close enough that Rio could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. “You’re blushing, my love.”

“Am not,” Rio lied, hunching lower over her drawing.

Agatha reached out and gently tugged on the end of Rio’s ponytail. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. You know that?”

Rio dropped her charcoal with a frustrated sigh. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not when I’m having this much fun,” Agatha replied, grinning. She perched on the edge of Rio’s chair, her knee brushing against Rio’s thigh.

Rio glared at her, though it lacked any real heat. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re still blushing,” Agatha teased, tilting her head as if studying Rio’s expression. “What’s the real reason you won’t let me see your art?”

For once, Agatha’s voice wasn’t mocking. The curiosity in her tone was genuine, and it caught Rio off guard.

“I just…” Rio faltered, her gaze dropping to the half-finished sketch. “It’s not ready.”

Agatha’s expression softened, though the playful glint in her eyes remained. “You’re such a perfectionist, Vidal. I’ll bet it’s stunning already.”

Rio hesitated, her fingers twitching toward the canvas. There was a part of her—a small, reckless part—that wanted to let Agatha see. That wanted to watch her reaction, to hear what she’d say about the way Rio had captured her in charcoal. But that same part also knew how vulnerable it would make her feel. And Agatha had a way of making vulnerability feel like a game she was destined to lose.

Agatha seemed to sense her hesitation, because she stood and stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll wait. But don’t think I won’t find a way to sneak a look eventually.”

Rio huffed a laugh despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Agatha replied, her voice light but her gaze lingering just a second too long before she turned and flounced back to her bed.

That night, long after Agatha had fallen asleep, Rio sat cross-legged in the center of the room, her sketchbook balanced on her knees. She flipped through the pages, stopping at each drawing of Agatha.

There were so many. Too many. Agatha reading, laughing, gesturing with her hands as she recounted one of her outrageous stories. Each sketch was a fragment of Rio’s growing fascination—a fascination she wasn’t sure she’d ever fully understand. Finally, she stopped on the latest one. Agatha’s face, her smile just shy of wicked, her eyes glinting with something Rio could only describe as dangerous.

Rio picked up her pencil and leaned closer to the page, her hand moving almost of its own accord. She hated to admit it, but Agatha had been right about one thing: she was her muse.

PART 3

Rio had just finished a sketch and was debating whether to call it a night when the door to their dorm swung open. Agatha stumbled in, cheeks flushed, her hair slightly messed as she leaned heavily against the doorframe, a bottle of something amber-coloured dangling precariously from one hand.

“Riooo, my love,” she slurred, her voice thick with alcohol and mischief.

“No,” Rio said, not even looking up from her sketchbook.

Agatha blinked, taken aback by the interruption. She wobbled a little before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her with her foot. “Rude. I haven’t even told you what we’re doing yet.”

“I don’t need to know,” Rio replied. “The answer’s no.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, as if deeply offended. “You’re no fun.”

"Well, some of us want to graduate.” Rio muttered, flipping the page of her sketchbook while refusing to look at her.

Agatha groaned dramatically and flopped onto Rio’s bed, half spilling onto her lap. Her sweater had slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth, freckled skin, and her dark eyes gleamed with something both reckless and knowing. “Come on, Vidal. It’s Friday. There’s a party downstairs. I’ve got alcohol. You need alcohol.”

“I need you to stop throwing yourself onto my bed,” Rio said, attempting to nudge her off. “And go to your bed.”

Agatha ignored her, propping her chin in her hand and looking up at her with a lazy grin. “What’s wrong? Scared you might have fun for once?”

Rio sighed, putting her charcoal down. “I’m scared you’ll get us kicked out of this dorm because you decide to drunkenly yell at the RA again.”

“That happened one time,” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. She tilted her head, letting her hair fall artfully over one shoulder. “Don’t you ever get tired of sitting here with your little pencils, sketching away while the rest of the world is having a good time?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I am tired of watching you do it; I can see you slowly turning into a hermit,” Agatha declared, sitting up and grabbing Rio’s hand. “Up. You’re coming with me.”

Rio started to protest, but Agatha pulled her to her feet with surprising strength for someone so tipsy.

“Agatha—”

“Nope. No excuses,” Agatha said, cutting her off. Her grin widened as she tugged Rio toward the door. “Atta girl, You’re not hiding in this room all night, my love. I won’t allow it.”

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived, the dorm basement vibrating with music and packed with bodies. Strings of cheap fairy lights flickered over the crowd, and the smell of beer and cheap perfume hung heavy in the air.

Agatha weaved through the crowd like she owned the place, still clutching Rio’s hand. She stole two red cups from a nearby table, handing one into Rio’s hand. “Drink. Loosen up.”

Rio grimaced at the cup. “I don’t even know what’s in this.”

“Exactly!” Agatha said, already halfway through her own drink.

Rio took a tentative sip and immediately winced. It was sugary and strong—the kind of mix that promised a headache in the morning.

“God, that’s terrible.” she muttered.

“Terrible but effective,” Agatha said, stepping closer. Her voice dropped to a teasing murmur. “Unless you’re afraid you can’t handle it.”

Rio narrowed her eyes. “I can handle it just fine.”

“Prove it,” Agatha said, raising her cup in a mock toast.

Rio huffed but downed the drink, the alcohol buzzing warmly in her chest as Agatha watched with an infuriatingly smug grin.

A few drinks later, Rio found herself on the edge of the dance floor, swaying awkwardly as Agatha pulled her closer.

“Relax, Vidal,” Agatha said, her hands on Rio’s shoulders, her voice thick with amusement and drink. “It’s just dancing.”

“I don’t dance,” Rio muttered.

Agatha laughed, her breath warm against Rio’s ear. “You’re doing it right now, darling.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but her heart was racing. The alcohol made everything feel fuzzier—lighter—but Agatha’s proximity made her feel like she was on fire.

“See?” Agatha said, her hands sliding down to Rio’s waist as they moved to the music. “You’re not bad at this.”

“That’s just you,” Rio managed, her voice embarrassingly breathless.

Agatha grinned, leaning in closer. Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and the scent of her lavender perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” Rio said, her cheeks blazing.

“Liar,” Agatha whispered, her lips barely brushing Rio’s ear.

Rio swallowed hard, her mind spinning. Agatha’s teasing was relentless—the way her hands lingered on her waist, the way her voice dipped into something almost intimate.

“Do you always stare this much?” Agatha asked, her grin turning sly. “Or is it just me?”

“I’m not—”

“Well… You are.” Agatha interrupted, her voice soft but insistent.

Rio’s hands fidgeted at her sides. The alcohol was making her bolder, but she still felt out of her depth—her first time this close to another woman, to someone like Agatha, who radiated confidence even when drunk.

“I…” Rio started, but her voice trailed off.

Agatha tilted her head, studying her with a faint smirk. “What, Vidal? Cat got your tongue?”

Rio couldn’t take it anymore. Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed her.

It was clumsy and unsure, a burst of confidence fuelled by frustration and alcohol. Agatha froze for a fraction of a second, and Rio immediately panicked, starting to pull back.

But then Agatha’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer as she kissed her back. This time it was deliberate, confident, with that same teasing edge Agatha brought to everything.

When they broke apart, Rio’s face was on fire. "I—uh—I didn’t mean—”

Agatha laughed softly, her forehead resting against Rio’s. “Relax, Vidal. It’s not the end of the world.”

Rio groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Oh, believe it,” Agatha said, smirking as she tugged Rio’s hands away from her face. Her expression softened—just slightly—and her voice dropped. “For the record, not bad.”

Rio blinked, her heart still racing. “Really?”

Agatha chuckled, stepping back and taking Rio’s hand again. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you combust.”

They left the party together, the cool night air hitting them like a splash of water. As they stumbled back to their dorm, Agatha glanced over at Rio with a smile that was almost genuine. “Not bad at all,” she murmured.

By the time they reached their dorm, the buzz was wearing off, replaced by a different kind of dizziness. Agatha let go of Rio’s hand to fumble for her key, her smirk still firmly in place.

“Stop hovering,” Agatha teased, shooting Rio a sideways glance as she finally unlocked the door.

“I’m not hovering,” Rio muttered, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets and refusing to meet Agatha’s gaze.

“Sure, darling,” Agatha said, stepping inside and flicking on the light. She turned, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes raking over Rio with a dangerous kind of amusement. “You’re very convincing.”

Rio froze in the doorway, every nerve in her body on high alert. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Agatha asked innocently, tilting her head.

“Like you’re—” Rio faltered, the words catching in her throat.

“Like I’m about to kiss you again?” Agatha finished for her, her voice low and teasing. She took a slow step forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Or are you planning to surprise me again?”

Rio’s cheeks burnt, and she stammered, "I wasn't—"

Agatha’s laugh was soft but rich, and this time it lacked some of its usual edge. “Relax, Vidal. You’re so wound up. It’s kind of adorable.”

Rio crossed her arms, trying desperately to regain her composure. “You- You can’t just say stuff like that and act like it doesn’t mean anything.”

Agatha’s smirk faltered—just barely, but Rio caught it. For a moment, the tension between them hung heavy in the air, charged and uncertain. Then Agatha sighed, stepping back and flopping onto her bed.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” she said, her tone quieter but still playful. She glanced at Rio, her expression unreadable. “Or maybe it does. What do you think?”

Rio hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. The weight of the night—the drinks, the dancing, the kiss—pressed down on her. She didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say.

Agatha seemed to sense her turmoil because she rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. Her smirk returned, softer this time. “Don’t overthink it, Vidal. You’re cute when you’re awkward, but you’ll give yourself a headache.”

Rio let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, you kissed me,” Agatha countered, her grin widening.

Rio groaned, covering her face with her hands as she mumbled, “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Agatha said, her voice warm with laughter.

For a moment, silence settled over them, broken only by the hum of the desk lamp and the faint sounds of music still drifting up from the party downstairs. Rio finally dropped her hands, glancing at Agatha, who was watching her with that same maddeningly unreadable expression.

“Goodnight, Harkness,” Rio said, retreating to her bed and pulling the blanket over herself in one swift motion.

Agatha chuckled, leaning back against her pillows. “Goodnight, Vidal.”

As Rio closed her eyes, she could still feel the ghost of Agatha’s lips on hers, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. She told herself she’d deal with it tomorrow and figure out what it all meant, or maybe pretend it hadn’t happened at all, but deep down, she knew Agatha wouldn’t let her forget.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How lock-in hurts design

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

If you've ever read about design, you've probably encountered the idea of "paving the desire path." A "desire path" is an erosion path created by people departing from the official walkway and taking their own route. The story goes that smart campus planners don't fight the desire paths laid down by students; they pave them, formalizing the route that their constituents have voted for with their feet.

Desire paths aren't always great (Wikipedia notes that "desire paths sometimes cut through sensitive habitats and exclusion zones, threatening wildlife and park security"), but in the context of design, a desire path is a way that users communicate with designers, creating a feedback loop between those two groups. The designers make a product, the users use it in ways that surprise the designer, and the designer integrates all that into a new revision of the product.

This method is widely heralded as a means of "co-innovating" between users and companies. Designers who practice the method are lauded for their humility, their willingness to learn from their users. Tech history is strewn with examples of successful paved desire-paths.

Take John Deere. While today the company is notorious for its war on its customers (via its opposition to right to repair), Deere was once a leader in co-innovation, dispatching roving field engineers to visit farms and learn how farmers had modified their tractors. The best of these modifications would then be worked into the next round of tractor designs, in a virtuous cycle:

https://securityledger.com/2019/03/opinion-my-grandfathers-john-deere-would-support-our-right-to-repair/

But this pattern is even more pronounced in the digital world, because it's much easier to update a digital service than it is to update all the tractors in the field, especially if that service is cloud-based, meaning you can modify the back-end everyone is instantly updated. The most celebrated example of this co-creation is Twitter, whose users created a host of its core features.

Retweets, for example, were a user creation. Users who saw something they liked on the service would type "RT" and paste the text and the link into a new tweet composition window. Same for quote-tweets: users copied the URL for a tweet and pasted it in below their own commentary. Twitter designers observed this user innovation and formalized it, turning it into part of Twitter's core feature-set.

Companies are obsessed with discovering digital desire paths. They pay fortunes for analytics software to produce maps of how their users interact with their services, run focus groups, even embed sneaky screen-recording software into their web-pages:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-dark-side-of-replay-sessions-that-record-your-every-move-online/

This relentless surveillance of users is pursued in the name of making things better for them: let us spy on you and we'll figure out where your pain-points and friction are coming from, and remove those. We all win!

But this impulse is a world apart from the humility and respect implied by co-innovation. The constant, nonconsensual observation of users has more to do with controlling users than learning from them.

That is, after all, the ethos of modern technology: the more control a company can exert over its users ,the more value it can transfer from those users to its shareholders. That's the key to enshittification, the ubiquitous platform decay that has degraded virtually all the technology we use, making it worse every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

When you are seeking to control users, the desire paths they create are all too frequently a means to wrestling control back from you. Take advertising: every time a service makes its ads more obnoxious and invasive, it creates an incentive for its users to search for "how do I install an ad-blocker":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

More than half of all web-users have installed ad-blockers. It's the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

But zero app users have installed ad-blockers, because reverse-engineering an app requires that you bypass its encryption, triggering liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. This law provides for a $500,000 fine and a 5-year prison sentence for "circumvention" of access controls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Beyond that, modifying an app creates liability under copyright, trademark, patent, trade secrets, noncompete, nondisclosure and so on. It's what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

This is why services are so horny to drive you to install their app rather using their websites: they are trying to get you to do something that, given your druthers, you would prefer not to do. They want to force you to exit through the gift shop, you want to carve a desire path straight to the parking lot. Apps let them mobilize the law to literally criminalize those desire paths.

An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a felony to block ads in it (or do anything else that wrestles value back from a company). Apps are web-pages where everything not forbidden is mandatory.

Seen in this light, an app is a way to wage war on desire paths, to abandon the cooperative model for co-innovation in favor of the adversarial model of user control and extraction.

Corporate apologists like to claim that the proliferation of apps proves that users like them. Neoliberal economists love the idea that business as usual represents a "revealed preference." This is an intellectually unserious tautology: "you do this, so you must like it":

https://boingboing.net/2024/01/22/hp-ceo-says-customers-are-a-bad-investment-unless-they-can-be-made-to-buy-companys-drm-ink-cartridges.html

Calling an action where no alternatives are permissible a "preference" or a "choice" is a cheap trick – especially when considered against the "preferences" that reveal themselves when a real choice is possible. Take commercial surveillance: when Apple gave Ios users a choice about being spied on – a one-click opt of of app-based surveillance – 96% of users choice no spying:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/05/96-of-us-users-opt-out-of-app-tracking-in-ios-14-5-analytics-find/

But then Apple started spying on those very same users that had opted out of spying by Facebook and other Apple competitors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Neoclassical economists aren't just obsessed with revealed preferences – they also love to bandy about the idea of "moral hazard": economic arrangements that tempt people to be dishonest. This is typically applied to the public ("consumers" in the contemptuous parlance of econospeak). But apps are pure moral hazard – for corporations. The ability to prohibit desire paths – and literally imprison rivals who help your users thwart those prohibitions – is too tempting for companies to resist.

The fact that the majority of web users block ads reveals a strong preference for not being spied on ("users just want relevant ads" is such an obvious lie that doesn't merit any serious discussion):

https://www.iccl.ie/news/82-of-the-irish-public-wants-big-techs-toxic-algorithms-switched-off/

Giant companies attained their scale by learning from their users, not by thwarting them. The person using technology always knows something about what they need to do and how they want to do it that the designers can never anticipate. This is especially true of people who are unlike those designers – people who live on the other side of the world, or the other side of the economic divide, or whose bodies don't work the way that the designers' bodies do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Apps – and other technologies that are locked down so their users can be locked in – are the height of technological arrogance. They embody a belief that users are to be told, not heard. If a user wants to do something that the designer didn't anticipate, that's the user's fault:

https://www.wired.com/2010/06/iphone-4-holding-it-wrong/

Corporate enthusiasm for prohibiting you from reconfiguring the tools you use to suit your needs is a declaration of the end of history. "Sure," John Deere execs say, "we once learned from farmers by observing how they modified their tractors. But today's farmers are so much stupider and we are so much smarter that we have nothing to learn from them anymore."

Spying on your users to control them is a poor substitute asking your users their permission to learn from them. Without technological self-determination, preferences can't be revealed. Without the right to seize the means of computation, the desire paths never emerge, leaving designers in the dark about what users really want.

Our policymakers swear loyalty to "innovation" but when corporations ask for the right to decide who can innovate and how, they fall all over themselves to create laws that let companies punish users for the crime of contempt of business-model.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

Image: Belem (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Desire_path_%2819811581366%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[rin-may-1103]

The Master Post.

someone asked for a master post so here we are.

Tag List? yes, there is a tag list. If you'd like to be Added, please leave a comment on the Stories Linked Post. If the tags aren't working for some reason, then you can either Follow this post by clicking the bell (or the three dots) or follow the Story's Post the same way. I'll update both Relevant Posts when there is a New Part.

Unfortunately, I can't keep up with all the people asking to be added to the tag list in all the different posts, so to make it easier, please follow the instructions above. if you don't I'll most likely miss your comment and therefore not add you to the tag list. (if you're not sure if you're tagged or not, you can check out the Tag List Here, please follow the instructions in the comments)

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

I hope y'all keep enjoying the stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

Stories and Summaries:

The Wrong Robin Au (DP x DC):

Tim Drake saw Danny do a quadruple somersault, which resulted in him believing Danny was the first Robin for years. He still figured out Bruce but thinks Dick is in the dark. Now with the second Robin dead, and Batman quickly reaching the end of his sanity, Tim takes it upon himself to get Robin to come back. Danny is very confused when this random kid tries to blackmail him into becoming Robin.

Badger Day Au (DP x DC):

Danny is stuck in a Groundhog Day kinda situation and he would like to be let out now, please. The league is very worried.

Delilah's language (DP x DC):

Bruce Wayne approaches the Fentons because Damian is a big fan of Danny for his work in the conservation of the purpleback gorilla. So now Danny is going to the birthday of this random kid so he can teach him gorilla sign language so he can talk to the purple-back gorilla as well.

Just a Bite (DP x DC):

Danny's homeless on the streets of Gotham, when he gets a terrible idea from some passerby. Three weeks after living with the Waynes, they still haven't noticed he's not supposed to be there.

72 hours (DP x DC):

During a battle with the rest of the league, John Constantine is accidentally sent into the palace of Pariah Dark, Tyrant of the Dead, and Bane of the Living. Danny just wanted to have a simple spa day.

Biggest Regret (DP x DC):

Danny Had been optimistic when he created The Email. Three days, that's what he gave himself. Three days to fix or get out of whatever problem he was dealing with and open his laptop to restart the timer. Three days. Past him had thought that If he ever got caught they'd just kill him; it's what they said they would do this whole time, so why wouldn't he think otherwise? It's been more than three days, and at this point, he's just glad someone could fulfill his last wish.

The Disappointment (DP x DC):

Ra's has stated his disapproval of one of the twins, now Talia is rushing to get them out of there and to Bruce to be safe. Danny has other ideas.

Black Retrievers and Golden Cats (DP x DC):

He remembered how it took two hours for his mind to catch up to what he had done, two hours for him to realize he had just killed his brother. It took another two days to realize his brother was never coming back, that the pits had not worked. Damian stared at the camera footage infront of him, his family's voices buzzing with theories and analyzing everything they could. He remembered his brother's bright carefree smile just minutes before Damian had killed him. So, why? Why was he seeing it again?

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row. (DP X DC):

Tim doesn't understand how he's losing at university to a toddler. Danny's not having a great time, but it's fine because now he can terrorize Red Robin.

The Willpower of Space (DP X DC):

A faulty green lantern ring wakes from it's accidental eon long sleep due to how powerful Danny's willpower is. It decides that Danny is a worthy wielder and grants Danny the ability to use it. There's just one problem; Danny keeps dying. and the ring doesn't understand what's going on. Oa is very concerned.

The Weeping Boy Au (DP X DC):

I'll think of a summary later, for now, it's an expansion of this post.

The Eyes of Death Au (DP X DC):

In an attempt to prevent a cult from causing problems, Danny accidentally convinces the Justice League and Co. that he's possessing himself. Damian is not happy that his boyfriend is apparently the new June Moone.

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 1

Poly141! x fat!reader tw: self fat shaming, social anxiety, drinking, mention of male appendages at the end

This late Friday night found you where it always did. Alone after watching all of your pretty, skinny friends filter out into the crowd. The plush of your ass settled over the edges of the stool and you're grateful the bar is pretty dark, easier to hide. A glass of whiskey is being nursed in your hands while your eyes take in the crowd, effectively also checking on your friends.

As your eyes rove over, they settle on the back table, tucked into the corner and surrounded by four larger than normal men.

The one with the mohawk is the loudest by far, his boisterous Scottish brogue filtering over the sounds of the crowd. He's got a hand wrapped around a half finished bottle of beer while he loudly recounts a story that makes all of them groan like they've heard it a million times.

The dark skinned one had to be the prettiest man you'd ever seen. His long fingers danced along the side of a glass of what looked to be rum and coke. His chuckle made his shoulders shake, shaking his head at his comrade.

The one with the thick mustache was laughing along with the Scot's story, butting in with his own interjections when he had something to add. His meaty paw held a glass of bourbon while the other gestured a bit wildly with a lit cigar.

The one with the mask though. He had an almost full glass of whiskey in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he scoffed at the Scot's story. He had been there and he knew that wasn't quite how it went. His eyes trailed from his buddies at the table, doing another sweep of the room. The fifth one you've watched him do tonight.

This time is different. His eyes meet your and you duck your head, avoiding the eye contact. You'd known (the way someone with social anxiety knows) that people would think you weird, making eye contact with strangers. It immediately signals your fight or flight response, settling on flight even though you weren't in any danger.

When you glanced back up, he was looking back at his friends, but you didn't know he'd smiled softly and was now bringing the rest of his tables' attention to you.

In your new panic, you paid your tab and headed out the door. So when Ghost finally got the others to look your way, your seat was empty and the bell was chiming over the door.

"You sure she was there, LT?" Soap asked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

"Was right there, on the end. Prettiest bird I ever saw," Ghost grunted, his mask wrinkling with his nose.

"Thass m'friend yer talkin bout," a pretty blond slurred at them as she hung on to a frat boy type that was more interested in running his hands all over her body. "Come 'ere e'ry Friday, woo!" She was herded off by her cohort, giggling as they headed for the door. "Guess we'll be here next Friday too then."

You walked home in the chilly night, anger and resentment flooding through your veins. They'd never give you a chance, not with all the pretty girls that were in that bar. You'd always been looked over for girls more beautiful or thinner than you. What was the line they always fed you? 'I love your personality, but you're just not...my type.'

Suffice it to say, the four men would head back to their shared flat, fisting their cocks to just Ghost's description of you and fiending for the next Friday to come.

I promise I'm working on the Touch Fivesome. There's a lot of details and functionality that I'm trying to figure out.

I couldn't get this out of my head. Inspired by another post along a similar vein. I can't remember who it was now, but it's been festering.

Update: I found the inspiration. :3 @devil-in-hiding

Part Two ->

[transrevolutions]

french revolution dashboard simulator

🐀 ami-du-peuple Follow

uh actually man has the right to deal with his oppressors by devouring their beating hearts. hope this helps.

🎩 departicle Follow

Hold up. Okay. Actually, fuck this. This sort of violent rhetoric should not be tolerated on here. Do you seriously think this sort of thing is going to make the nobility give you more rights???? You must be out of your minds! Reported.

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

reblog to devour this guy's beating heart

#username checks out lmao #politics #everybody point and laugh #common adp w

6,178 notes

organt-deactivated06151792

update: new canto out now!!! go check it out 😈😏🥀 (remember don't like don't read <3)

📜 sacredhostreceipts Follow

@centuriesandskies this you?? not such a great look for a convention rep ngl

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

listen. I wrote this a long time ago, before I went into serious politics. the account is deactivated for a reason.

I was twenty. I did poorly. I can do better.

#sj.txt #if this is the worst dirt you can dig up on me #i'm way less corrupt than half the people in the convention these days #at least i'm not doing fucking. embezzlement. #also sacredhostreceipts if you're who i think you are #don't you have better things to do rn?

231 notes

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

why the fuck is everyone tagging this with french??? political figures?

#what the hell is going on over there #also maybe cool it with the death threats #I don't want this blog to get taken down #what's a girondin #is this some joke I'm not french enough to understand #showdown update

5,012 notes

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

Unpopular opinion but why is everyone so up in arms about the new Civil Oath? Literally all it's asking is for you to promise not to commit treason just because the Pope tells you to? I can see where people are coming from with the whole violation-of-religion deal, but can you blame the Assembly for trying to make sure the people aren't forcibly subjugated by the wealth of the nobility?

faith-first-alwaysdeactivated03011791

Sounds like something a heretic would say. To betray the Pope and king is to betray the will of God and your eternal soul! You should pray for forgiveness and pledge loyalty to the monarchy or have fun burning in hell. Sorry not sorry.

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

L + ratio + iirc the Bible says "it is easier for a rope to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven" (Matthew 19:24)

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

occasional based catholic moment, go off OP!

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

looked the faith-first-always guy's blog, he's like a massive anti-huguenot too 🙄 why is it always the prot-exclusive radical catholics smh

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

LMAOOOOO HE DEACTIVATED

#religion tag #percs fuck off #anyways op makes a valid point #reblog #percs dni

3,719 notes

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

she committee on my safety til I can't go public

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

I don't understand the joke, can someone explain please?? 🙂 Thank you!

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

is that fucking MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE?!!?!?!?

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

oh my god citizen robespierre I'm so sorry this was not meant to break containment lol I didn't even know you were on this site please forget you saw this

#this is the most embarassing moment of my life #literally sobbing rn #the original post is /j i prommy #i cannot be known as the citizen who had to explain this to the government

19,853 notes

🪓 indulgentsfuckoff Follow

fabre d'eglantine is NOT your poor little meow meow citizens he literally falsified decrees from the national convention and embezzled money to line his own pockets. I don't care how uwu babygirl you think he is he is a CRIMINAL who should be ARRESTED

💛 i-give-people-bread Follow

🥖🍞🥐

#baguette #loaf #croissant #i-give-people-bread #indulgentsfuckoff #silly

2,011 notes

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

fucking fed up with the constant threat of the swiss guard, I think it's time we got some gunpowder and weapons and took things into our own hands yknow what I'm saying

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

I'm no longer joking about this btw

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

update:

hopital

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

ok bc I've gotten like 50 asks about this: I am not injured and I am not in need of medical care. the punchline was that we stormed the fucking hotel des invalides to get guns and powder. didn't want to clarify the joke before now for security reasons but everyone knows about that and the bastille thing by now. please direct your money to people who actually need it.

#shouldve clarified the last post was /j #however I assumed yall knew this joke already #anyways #revolution #personal #500 #1k

1,930 notes

🌾 nopain-nograin Follow

got so high at the festivial 2day i thnk i saw hte suapreme being

#robespiere speech was prboably 🔥 #unforntuately i camt rember any of it #grainposting #oipum ehre is somtehing else thes days #memes

8,256 notes

🎨 jldavid-real-moved Follow

incredible speech from @springtimeofgovernment today at the jacobin club. nobody should be permitted to use their positions as civic leaders to commit crimes against the people, even under the guise of revolutionary fervor. if it comes to it, I too will drink the hemlock with him. for france. 🤝🤝

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

Thanks for your support, @jldavid-real

The situation over here is deteriorating really quickly, the representatives are getting violent and abandoning due process entirely. Anything you can do to stand with us now would be very appreciated. You do a lot of great work for the revolution, and I trust you completely.

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

@jldavid-real are you still there? We could really use your help right now.

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

boosting @springtimeofgovernment here, can confirm he's been injured in a skirmish at the hotel de ville, they're passing summary death sentences without trial, @jldavid-real where is the help you promised us??? the people of paris are our only hope now.

edit: of course he moved blogs. coward.

#sj.txt #disappointed yet unsurprised #marat would be ashamed of you #9 thermidor #update

15,794 notes

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

DNI if you support any of these groups/people or their actions: m0narchists, f3uillants, br1ssotins/g1rondins, th3rmidorians, b0napart1sts, h3nri du v3rgier (also goes by c0mte de r0chjacquelin), charl0tte c0rday, or lafay3tte

(h3bertists and dant0nists you're on thin ice. behave.)

#censored so they dont show up in the tags #dni #get your nasty ass ideologies off my page #won't hesitate to block and/or report any violators #pinned

52 notes

gracchus-babeufdeactivated05271797

reblog to make the directoire choke to death on their stupid fucking outfits

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

hey staff. yeah you. where did this blog go?? notfishgoujon and prairial-95 are gone as well?? cowards too afraid to show your faces lmao especially after the fucking mess the directoire's made of the country. bet you anything that staff are on their fucking payroll too iykwim at least the republic didn't tolerate fucking bribery

#this site's gone to the dogs since thermidor yr 2 #following the trend of the rest of the country tbh #i'll probably get nuked for posting this #if so i'm not making a new account #i'll just make a paleocities or smth #politics tag #reblog #don't play with me ik full well gb didn't delete his blog of his own free will #they also zero note glitched it #just when you think they can't stoop lower

0 notes

📕 spectrehauntingeurope Follow

it's been 50 fucking years since gracchus-babeuf (and the other CoE blogs) were deleted without warning and still no response from staff, the govt, or anything. the site's gone through a fuckton of ownership changes and still nothing.

we're working on a bit of a project (some of you might know abt it already), it's gonna be out prob in the next year or so. remember '89. remember '93 and '94. remember '97.

the people will rise again. it's only a matter of time. 🚩

-mod karl

[wickworks]

Lancer Tactics dialogue layout crisis of faith

(from this month's backer update)

Every so often, I'll run into something in development that eats away at me until it pushes me to a crisis of faith and I have a breakdown, burn down a bunch of work, and build something better from the ashes. These are moments of transformation and we're almost always able to come out the other side with something much better than what we started with.

This all sounds very dramatic until you take a step back and see the issue in question is just, like, the layout of a menu. But if medieval priests were able to have schisms over angels on pins I can have strong feelings about graphic design, dammit!

This month's episode revolved around how we're doing character dialogue. For reference the plan was to do a standard 4-slot visual-novel talking heads layout. I call it a 4-slot because there's usually four positions that characters can stand; two on the left, two on the right:

I had it ingame, and it was working. But... something felt off. Do you see the difference between every one of the above examples and this?

It's all about perspective, baby.

Answer: all the character art in those examples are drawn at a slight angle so they can be flipped back and forth to be made like they're looking at each other.

Trying to do this with the perspective we chose early — straight on — makes for a chorus line of weirdos who are looking directly into your soul as they ostensibly chat with each other. Credulity is strained; the illusion of these puppets interacting in the same space is paper-thin.

(I was skeptical of choosing this perspective for this reason, but we ultimately went with it to make the customizable assets in the portrait maker easier to fit together)

We tried a bunch of different layouts, but they all at least one of these problems:

they'd stare into your soul while ostensibly directing comments elsewhere.

they felt like text messages; this would be fine if that's what we were going for, but we wanted something that could represent face-to-face conversations. (Tactical Breach Wizards was able to pull this style off because they had little 3D dioramas to go along with it)

or, most damning of all, they felt like zoom calls.

So, my heart aflutter and spirit in want, I spent a day doing a research dive into various dialogue layouts (bless the Game UI Database!) to see if any other games had managed to pull this character art perspective off. I ended up with this massive non-chronological taxonomic tree:

(fullsize here)

The type of layout that particularly caught my eye was this style where each character had their own little box. These layouts borrow a concept from comic books called "closure" where the space and time between characters are left blank. Freed from the constraints of trying to simulate a single space, these layouts allow the reader to fill in the blanks with something that feels more true-to-life than anything we'd be able to render ourselves.

I was especially impressed with the dynamism of Tales of Symphonia and The World Ends With You; rather than sticking to single slots they would animate the entire panels moving around to indicate motion an relative position of characters.

So we threw out the old code and copied them. Here's what we've come up with:

We'll be able to have portraits interact, like smacking each other (I felt like a kid hitting two action figures together, lol)

We can also apply effects like princess-leia-holograms and full-screen "lighting" effects like warning banners:

Carpenter and I came up with a number of arrangements that the portraits can smoothly transition between:

I've also implemented support for choices during a dialogue, potentially leading to branching paths.

Overall, I feel SO much better about this system than our initial designs. It might feel a little more cartoony, but I think we're making a cartoony game so that's not a problem.

Whew. We bit a lot off to chew with this project. I feel like I just made a second visual novel game engine inside of the first. Fingers crossed that it all ends up worth it.

[munsonhoneybaby]

Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???

A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.

“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”

“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”

“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.

Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”

“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”

“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.

“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“I really am sorry about that,��� You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”

“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.

“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”

“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”

He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it. 

“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.

“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.

“You should be.”

“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”

Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”

Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.

“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”

“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”

You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”

Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”

“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.

“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”

A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”

“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”

Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”

“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”

Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”

He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”

“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”

“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before. 

“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.

He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”

“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”

“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”

“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily. 

“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk. 

“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”

The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”

“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him. 

“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” 

His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”

“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.

Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response. 

“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense. 

Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.

He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Happy to return the favor.”

“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.

“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.

“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”

Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”

Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”

“I’ll call you, okay?” 

Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.

Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.

Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”

“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”

Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”

“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”

“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”

“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”

Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.

You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.

You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”

He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”

“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.” 

The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”

“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”

“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.

“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”

Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”

“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”

“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”

Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully. 

“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”

His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice  if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”

“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”

“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.

Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”

His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?” 

Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”

Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”

“See, that? Mean. So mean.”

“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”

He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”

“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward. 

Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.

He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”

“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”

“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.” 

He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.

“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”

Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”

You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.

Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”

He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”

“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”

“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.

“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”

Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.

He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”

The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.

“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”

“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.

Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”

Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec. 

He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.

“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”

“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”

“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”

“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.

He was gonna change that.

Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.

Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”

Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”

“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.

Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.

When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”

But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.

Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”

Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.

“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.

Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.

“I’m listening.”

He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.

He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”

 His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute

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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)

[froggibus]

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.  

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react. 

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first. 

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth. 

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can. 

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is. 

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops. 

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away. 

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into. 

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding. 

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him. 

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize. 

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head. 

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts. 

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination. 

“You can relax.” Dick hums. 

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on. 

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.” 

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place. 

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?” 

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it. 

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more. 

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!” 

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh. 

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are. 

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here? 

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before. 

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly. 

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow. 

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly. 

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs. 

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need. 

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand. 

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.” 

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing. 

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh. 

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking. 

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts. 

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you. 

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

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[amazinglyashy]

I Think You'll Be Okay

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Rafayel x Reader Summary: You find yourself face to face with an old flame. Your heart pounding loud enough for you to hear it, but your feet refusing to move, refusing to get you to safety. That's alright though. Safety comes to you. Or You meet up with your abusive ex-boyfriend again when waiting for the train. Luckily for you, someone else decided to take the train today. Tags: Past Domestic Violence, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Protectiveness, Rescue, Hurt/Comfort Wordcount: 6,107

You fiddled in your pocket, trying to dig out your phone. You had shoved it there earlier when you had left work, on your way out in a rush, trying to leave before any more was put on you. That is, on top of what had already been dumped on you today, forcing you into overtime when you really just wanted to go home. You really didn’t want to be heading home any later than right now, with all of the creeps coming out soon to prey on young highschoolers hanging out in the city after classes, or single women like yourself getting off of work late. The time was already squarely at sundown, which meant you were making it out just in time.

The sun was setting to the left of the platform already, the golden haze casting an orange glow over everything it touched. It was a nice change, you admitted to yourself. Usually when you were leaving, the sky was still a misty shade of blue, the evening only just barely peppering the surroundings with its presence. The platform was also so much busier at that time, with crowds of people trying to shove themselves onto the train, filling every gap they could to shave just a few extra minutes off of their travel time rather than wait for one of the other coming trains. Last you had checked, you were one of very few standing on the platform- the only others being a small group of highschoolers chatting with each other a ways down to your right, and an elderly man dozing off on a bench near the stairs, leaning against his cane as he snored quietly. He didn’t seem like he was waiting for a train though, there being benches much closer to the boarding area that he wasn’t anywhere near, so you had decided to leave him be after you had noticed him initially. 

I’ll leave the waking him up to whoever he’s waiting on. You muse to yourself as you pull your phone from your pocket, unlocking it and giving your missed notifications a scroll. 

There were a few texts from Tara, asking about this coming weekend. She hadn’t sent too many, having seen the pile of work still sitting on your desk by the time of her own clocking out. You felt bad. You were working the next weekend, again, and you felt bad turning her down so often. You didn’t want her to feel as if you were avoiding her, or that you didn’t want to continue being friends, but you were just… busy. You sighed to yourself, deciding to shoot her a call later on tonight. You figured it would be easier to avoid her taking anything to heart if you spoke to her directly. 

You thumbed over the rest of your notifications, swiping away most. A few advertisements, some updates from your mobile games, some social media follows and suggestions, an email or two- nothing particularly eventful. It was almost like magic, though, as you were mulling over one of the emails you had gotten, a name with a heart next to it popped into your dropdown menu. Instinctively, you clicked it without even pausing to read the sample text. 

You couldn’t help it, as the messenger loaded. It was automatic at this point. Or at least, it felt automat-

“Oh hey! I know you-!”

Your head snapped up from your phone at the sound of a familiar voice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing boldly, a scatter of goosebumps forming across your skin. The elderly man hadn’t woken up, no one had come to meet him yet either. The highschoolers were still deep in conversation at the other end of the platform. None of them had spoken to you, and none of them had seemed anywhere near as recognizable as that voice was. 

You glanced over to your left, where your eyes fell on a man who was waving, his hand comically high in the air, as he quickly made his way directly towards you. 

Your feet turned to stone. 

The breath in your throat hitched, and you didn’t even realize you weren’t breathing anymore. 

Why?

Why was he here?

Why was he in front of you?

Why was he approaching you?

How had he found you?

Why was he-

He had closed the distance between you before you had even processed him approaching you fully, you freezing up making it easy for him to pull you into a hug that made you feel like a thousand ants were crawling across your skin. Your shock and disbelief had taken over, overriding any thought in your mind that was telling you to run . You weren’t even sure you would have been able to listen to it even if your feet weren’t frozen. The pounding of your heart had become loud enough to drown out any coherent thought you could have come up with.

He squeezed you, and you wanted to slip down into the ground so desperately. 

You were in danger. You were in danger. You were in danger. 

You were a Hunter, you were proficient in hand to hand combat, a decent marksman, and pretty good swordsman. You’d killed countless Wanderers, and come and gone from the N109 zone with barely a scratch on you after your countless visits. You were fully capable of protecting yourself from anyone and anything, and if you didn’t seem like you could, you would manage. 

But you couldn’t protect yourself from him. 

You couldn’t take back what he had taken from you. You couldn’t stop as your mind was slowly regressing backwards, back to where it had been.

Back to the memories. 

He pulled away, but the respite was shorter than a breath, as the train approached the platform. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. His smile, the people deboarding, the lack of people entering the car that he was pulling you into- Something about going the same way? - his hand gripping the upper part of your arm. But it wasn’t gentle. It never was. It never was. It never was. 

“What have you been up to? Is that a name card from the Hunter’s Association?” He asked, his tone cheerful as you felt your heart dropping through the very rails the train was sitting on. He sounded so friendly, but you knew he wasn’t being friendly. He wasn’t asking you a question, he was making a statement. 

He was saying ‘ I found you~ ♪ ’.

“I-...” You take a small gasp of air, finally processing how little you had been breathing up until the point. He flashed you a little smirk, his hair falling across his eye as he tilted his head at you. Had his hair always looked like that? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. You couldn’t-... remember. 

God, you couldn’t remember a lot of back then. 

It was horrible.

It was scary.

Why was he still gripping your arm…?

It hurt. 

It made other spots hurt, echoing with pain you had forgotten- no, not forgotten about. Pushed away. Tried to not remember. But still, ghost feelings that would sneak into your mind whenever something made you flinch, whenever someone tried to give you an over-enthusiastic high five, whenever you were trying to please yourself alone in bed, whenever someone raised their voice- be it out of happiness or anger, it really didn’t matter. The anxiety would pound into your chest like breaking a door down, like breaking you down until you were tiny little pieces strewn out across the floor, sobbing alone to yourself because no one else could help you. You were alone. This was your cross to bear. You had gotten yourself into this mess, it was up to you to get through this. It was up to you to get yourself out of this. 

“Wipe that shitty fucking expression off your face, you’re making people think I’m doing something wrong.” 

His voice was dangerously low, and sinisterly similar to how he used to speak to you. It was nice to see that nothing had changed, so much longer later. That the same circumstances that led to the bloodied sheets strewn out across the bed and floor were happening again. That the same knuckles that had made forceful contact with the high of your cheekbone were gripping so tightly, they were turning white across the top of your upper arm. You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to appear as neutral as possible, as the only other patron in the train car with the two of you- tucked back in the corner but raising an eyebrow at the situation, nonetheless- watched. 

He gave you a small shake, and you let the corners of your mouth turn upward in a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You were just two old flames meeting again, goofing around. Reignited that old flame once more. 

But to you, that flame was a bomb. And it was going to go off the second you were alone with him. 

There hadn’t been any closure when you had left, there couldn’t have been. You could have left with bags secretly packed without so much as a goodbye thrown into his messages while he was at work, or you could have spent three hours talking to him trying to get through to him one final time. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Men like him, were men like him for a reason. They didn’t change, they didn’t find what they were doing as something wrong , and they never would. At least, that’s what everyone had told you. That’s what you had learned at the end. But standing here as the train rocketed towards another new location for him to find out about, you were finding it harder and harder to remember everything you had taught yourself just to get away from him. 

“Are you going to be ungrateful again? Going to run away because you think for some reason you can get better, despite being some fucking whore who runs her mouth? With a bodycount?” He practically spat the words at your face, turning to face you and keeping his back towards the other patron, who had closed their eyes with their head resting back against the seat, waiting for their stop and avoiding getting involved. 

“After everything I’ve done for you, you can’t offer me even the littlest bit of appreciation that you didn’t want to show me back then? I thought you had changed. That you were different.” 

You let out a deep breath, trying to keep your mind steady, but it was hard. You’d gotten used to the word disassociate ever since you’d learned about it. You’d slip into dissociation even on your best days, at random. Talking to Tara, riding your bike, fighting Wanderers, avoiding Luke and Kieran’s pranks- it didn’t matter. It just… happened. And it came on worse when you were reminded of things that had traumatized you. Or were faced with the very things that had caused that trauma- as you were finding out right now. 

He reached up, grabbing your other arm into his other hand, the grip matching the vice-like pressure of the first one that still held you. “You listen to me, you little bitch. I still fucking own you. I don’t give a shit if you’re living in some fantasy land where you think you’re moving on, but you will never find anything as good as me.” He hissed. “Not for what you’re worth. I treated you so well, and you think you can keep treating me and people like shit? Fuck off.” 

He gave your arms a yank to emphasize his words. You just stared straight at his chest, stumbling slightly as the train stopped at the next station, but his grip kept you relatively upright. The time between now and the last stop wasn’t anything you could remember clearly, and you could already feel your mind slipping from your body slowly. You couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to. It was something you couldn’t explain, but it acted like a muffled fast-forward button on situations like this. You couldn’t say you liked it, but you liked it more than being present for what your ex had to say.

But it was horrible, because no sooner did you start to slip away, did the doors to the train open, and the only bystander that had been seated in the corner left. Whether this was their stop, or they wanted to avoid the situation, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. In your heart though, you knew that was just how it went. You’d be lucky if they called the police, but wouldn’t do anything. There was no proof of anything happening. You didn’t have any. 

You knew he was right.

But then why did it feel like electricity when someone boarded the train? You knew the footsteps without being able to place a name, and the sheer presence was something you sensed without knowing what form it took. 

“Cobalt blue, but maybe phthalo… Oh, Miss Bodyguard. Didn’t think I’d see you tod- Mm?” 

Your heart dropped further than it had at the station when you had first gotten approached.  

No.

Why was Rafayel here?

His comment was cut short, ending in a small hum as he came into your view. You could see a cloud cross his expression as he took in the situation in front of him. You were still doing your best to seem relaxed, and had tried to add a smile as soon as you had realized Rafayel was here, but it didn’t seem like it was working. You wanted so badly to be sick to your stomach, but you also knew if you were, it would only make your ex lose his mind completely. 

“H-Hey, Rafayel, how are you?”

“Do you know him?”

The question was asked by two separate men at the exact same time. One was nearly whispered, the tone borderline violent. The other was gentle, devoid of its usual bratty aftercomment. You just paused, before nodding your head as slowly as you could. 

Fuck, it was so easy to keep your ex under control when it was just you. You hadn’t managed him in front of others in forever, and you had forgotten how to make other people let you handle things. Usually it was as simple as a look. No one wanted to get caught up in the middle of a lover’s quarrel, and were quick to leave. But the doors had already closed behind Rafayel, and his expression was telling you that he was already planning on getting more than involved. 

“Yes!- Yes. Yes, I know him…” You stammered, looking between the two of them, your ex robotically releasing his grip in favor of moving to put his arm across your shoulders. You had to swallow the bile in your throat, but you didn’t move away from him, his expression stormy, while Rafayel’s remained concerned, but fairly unaffected. 

“Rafayel’s an… employer of mine.” You continued, gesturing towards him as he gave the two of you a nod, a small smile flashing in addition. “And Rafayel, this is my-” 

“Boyfriend.” 

You swallowed. 

Rafayel’s eyes narrowed, but he kept smiling. 

“That’s really funny, she’s told me she’s single. Several times actually, whenever I've bugged her about it.” 

You can feel the blood in your veins freeze over. 

No.

You can’t even bring yourself to look up at your ex. You knew what disagreeing with him did, and you knew what blatantly calling out his lies did. You’d experienced the consequences of doing either towards the earlier days of your relationship, before you had learned to follow everything he said. To do everything how he said it. 

And yet it was still not enough, most of the time. 

Rafayel smirked coldly. 

“So, buddy. Do you want to take your hands off of her?” He tilted his head slightly. “Or do I really need to help you?”

The arm across your shoulders felt heavier, until you could feel the pressure disappear. You want to breathe a sigh of relief, but the air gets caught in your lungs as a hand comes down between your shoulder blades at the top of your spine. You’re lurched forward, and Rafayel catches you as you stumble into his chest. “I don’t deal in bitches that can’t treat people with respect or kindness. You can have her.” Your ex spat, knowing that for whatever reason, this man before him wasn't going to fall for his usual tricks. Tricks? No, you thought as you stumbled. He thinks everything out of his own mouth is true, and anyone who disagrees is insane. 

You hadn’t even pulled back away from Rafayel before he had moved you quickly, but gently and carefully to the side, stepping forward as your stomach turned over. You spun around to grab at him, only succeeding in latching onto his arm. 

“Rafayel, stop. You’ll only make things worse.” You stammered as you gripped his arm. He pulled away quickly- but gently, despite his anger. 

“Worse how? Geez, you don’t know this man anymore. You shouldn’t be bothered by strangers on a train platform, and they should know not to approach single women.” 

He emphasized, staring straight at the other man as he did. As if warning him, with his usual snark still backing up his comments. Your ex glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I’ll bet you I’ve known her longer than you have. I know all her tricks.” 

“Time is relative.” Rafayel retorted back, taking another step towards him, which your ex matched. Your anxiety was pounding through the roof, and you were desperate to think of anything that could diffuse the situation as they both shot daggers at each other with their eyes. Your ex let out a small chuckle, the kind he would whenever things were about to hurt. The air was leaving your lungs again, but you felt Rafayel shift next to you, and you could feel the predatory behavior like static crossing the side of his arm through the thin linen of his shirt. He had moved, shifted just a step towards your ex, and spoke before you could process what he was doing.

“I’ve done this dance a million times with a million people like you, for less, don’t try me.” Rafayel’s voice was so low, it could barely be described as more than a whisper. It sent a surge of ice through your blood, despite it not being directed towards you. You slowly turned your head, raising it to look at him carefully. You could only see the side of his head, his height also blocking his full expression from you, but you could see just enough of his eyes to feel the cruelty in his gaze.

He wasn’t joking. 

This wasn’t like him.

What was going on?

You reached out to brush against his arm again, but you didn’t know what to do. 

The train lurched as Rafayel reached forward, towards your ex.  

No.

You couldn’t let this happen.

Not here. 

Not towards him.

Not from him .

Your body moved on its own, as you turned your body, the same time the train started to hit its brakes for the next stop. You lost your footing, but you couldn’t let that stop you. You couldn’t let that stop you from stopping Rafayel. The worst of it was the only thing stopping you from falling was the weight of your ex’s torso, the feeling of chills returning the second your body made contact with his again. 

“I-I-” You stuttered, your mouth feeling like it was full of cotton as you stumbled backward into your ex’s body. “No, please. I don’t- no.” 

Rafayel stared at you, his expression blank, before flashing through several different emotions you couldn’t quite make out. Surprise? Absolute fury? Betrayal? Whatever he cycled through, he landed on one you didn’t recognize.

You are now at East Garden station. Next station- West Garden. 

The doors slid open behind you, and a few people filed on as you broke your gaze with Rafayel and glanced over at them. At least there were witnesses. You knew your ex wouldn’t act out too badly in front of so many strangers, and Rafayel, while a little bit feral when it came to columnists and fans that would go too far, you had a pretty good idea that he would remain a lot more calm in the presence of people as well. You let out the breath you had been holding unwittingly. 

“Go.” 

He gave you a slight shove, and you almost tripped onto the platform. As you regained your balance, you processed two things at the same time. 

Rafayel wasn’t behind you. And- 

You could hear him still, his words seething with a poison you had never heard come from his mouth, from any action he had ever committed. 

“If I ever see you in her general vicinity ever again, I will destroy you until there is nothing, nothing , left.” He seethed. “I care about her. Whatever we are after that doesn’t matter. You won’t come back and destroy her peace ever again. You won’t have the chance to. Do I make myself clear ?” 

As you move to turn, to see what would happen next or to hear your ex’s response, you spin face first into Rafayel’s chest, his hands reaching up, placed firmly on your shoulders to turn you back around and continue forward. You try to keep up with his pace, but it’s hard. Despite your stumbling, he doesn’t stop. Not until the two of you are off of the platform and out on the vast sidewalk in the middle of the city. 

You blink, trying to garner your surroundings as some means of grounding yourself, as Rafayel pulls out his phone. His fingers fly, sending a text to someone. The golden hour had passed, and it was twilight out now. The next train wasn’t going to be for another twenty minutes, and the ride itself was more time on top of that. It looked like you weren’t going to be accomplishing your initial goal of getting home before the dark hit. That was too bad. 

It was really cold outside.

Maybe that was just you. 

You swallowed hard, trying to force a deep breath just as Rafayel looked up from his phone. He pocketed the device and moved to step towards you, but his movements were… awkward. Hesitant. He paused a step away from you, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

“I… I’m sorry. I-” He let his hand drop, both hanging loosely at his sides as he looked like he wanted to look anywhere except at you. He didn’t let it break his gaze, despite it. “...Geez, I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I didn’t know what to do, what I should do. What I-”

He stopped himself. Tilting his head, his expression shifting into one of concern. 

“More importantly, how are you?”

“I- what?”

“How are you feeling, seashell? What do you need?”

You blinked, and you tried to open your mouth to respond, but your breath hitched in your throat, the sound caught on the lump that had appeared in your throat as your eyes began to burn. Fuck, what? What was going on with you today? First, you’d gone back to everything you had ever been back with your ex, forgetting all of your progress- all of your healthy habits in favor of how he had always made you feel under his touch. Then, you’d been unable to keep Rafayel calm and relaxed despite your ex trying to start shit all over again. And even still, you hadn’t even gotten to go home on time, hell you didn’t even feel safe enough to go home anymore. 

“He-” You choked. Your voice was squeaking, why was your voice breaking so badly? “H-He… He knows- knows where I work now.”

Rafayel stared at you, but his expression was oh so gentle , and seeing that look in his eyes did something to you that made you feel so ugly . It was like the final crack in an old dam as you began to wail. You tried to muffle your sobs, reaching up to cover your face in your hands as the initial shock had finally started to wear away from the meeting, finally started to let the emotions pour in. And all the emotions were fear, fear, fear . 

You couldn’t do anything to stop it as the tears just kept coming, as the choked sounds from your throat as you needed to get the crying out, but find air in between at the same time. Your shoulders wracked with pain from the after effects of the grip your ex had had on you, surely purple and yellow bruises forming where his knuckles had turned white with power just moments ago. It was just going to be another grim reminder of your world coming down, all because of a stupid train ride. 

“Seashell.”

You tried as hard as possible to quiet down, to stop and listen to Rafayel to avoid making him angry. You felt like a kid. You wanted him to help you get to your home, or a hotel, or somewhere your ex didn��t know about. But if he was angry, that would be impossible. That would mean you would be left standing here on the sidewalk bawling like a child, until you managed to pull the effort together to handle it yourself, like you always had don-

“Tell me if you don’t like it, and I swear I’ll stop, but I’m going to hug you now.”

“Wh-”

The word had barely even formed in your mouth, your hands only managing to hover over your eyes as you tried to pull them away at his words, before strong arms had wrapped around you so suddenly. One hand was resting at the nape of your neck, pressing your head so delicately against his shoulder as he leaned down for you- as he leaned down into you. The other was wrapped around your waist, squeezing you against his body like it was everything to him just to have the chance to pull your pieces back together. And somehow, it was so much worse. It was everything, as you began to wail all over again. It was everything and so much more. His actions on the train, his expression when you had stopped him and protected your ex- none of that, none of your worries meant anything in the tightness of his embrace. 

It was like he was telling you everything without speaking, he was telling you it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay . Like he didn’t harbor any ill feelings towards you, that he didn’t hate you like you were hating yourself every single second leading up until this moment. And coming from Rafayel, that was everything, everything, everything. 

“Geez.” He breathed against your hair, his breath labored as he tried to keep his own emotions in check for your sake. “I wish I had found you so much sooner. None of that would have ever happened to you.”

And you knew he wasn’t talking about the train- getting on sooner. Finding you before your ex did, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. But you knew he meant he wished he had found you so much sooner than that first meeting at the fountain with all of the fish, his brochure hanging lazily in hand. Found you long before that man had ever laid his hands on you, had ever wrecked you to the point you were at now. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He breathed the words against you, his hold tightening just slightly. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I-” You held back a sob, trying to compose yourself as best as you could. “I’m so ruined, I’m so sorry I’m such a mess.” 

“You’re not a mess, I promise you, you’re not a mess.” And the way he spoke, you almost believed it immediately. He sounded… tired. “None of it, not any of it, was your fault. You have to know that.” 

You didn’t. You wouldn’t, not for a long time. But the way he had been on the train, no matter how brief of a moment it was- how he was right now, clutching you so tightly in his arms as if you would shatter if he let go for even a second- You had a pretty good feeling that you would someday. Someday, as long as he was around. But for now you settled for feeling everything you were feeling in his embrace, just thankful that for whatever his reasoning, he didn’t hate you for what you had done, for what you felt. 

After a while, you nuzzled your face against the crook of his neck, before gently trying to pull back, signaling to him that you were alright enough to break the hug. He let go of you, but his hands lingered on you just a moment longer than they should have. You stared at the ground as you fiddled with your hands, trying to figure out what was supposed to come next. What you were supposed to do or say next. 

“What do you mean, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do?” You asked quietly. You already knew the answer. Honestly, how often was it that someone would witness what he did happening to someone close to themselves, especially when the person it was happening to was supposedly so strong? So capable of protecting yourself from even the worst of the Wanderers that traversed the city? 

He let out a breath, thinking for a moment, before he opened his mouth to answer your question. 

“Really, the only thing I know is to make sure you’re safe.” He shrugged, crossing his arms as he avoided your gaze. “If I wasn’t confident I’d be able to protect you from the whole thing, and even afterward, with whatever crazy he may try to do, I would have played along with you and not been so aggressive. But besides that, I really don’t know how someone is supposed to handle a situation like that.” 

You blinked. 

“What?”

“What-what? I don’t exactly want you getting hurt, I just wasn’t sure the best way to accomplish that. I wasn’t going to fail, though. I’m not some idiot.” 

You could feel your eyes starting to burn. “Yes, but you wanted to protect me?”

He looked at you abruptly, confused. “Wanted? Bodyguard, it’s not past tense. I don’t care what I call you, pay you for, what we are to each other- Believe it or not, I... don’t want you hurt.”

He flinched a little, watching the tears start to stream from your eyes again, but he just shook his head. “No, no. Geez, what are you doing?” He uncrossed his arms and reached out towards you slowly, gingerly brushing your cheek with his thumb. “No, why is this your reaction? Why are you crying over me caring about you?”

He knew why. He had just seen why. And that was just the tip of the iceberg on what your past had been.

“But-”

“I really don't want to hear it. It’s just going to be you saying bad things about yourself again.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and you couldn’t think of any denial or lie that he would believe. “You really need to learn to trust me, seashell. If you don’t want to go home or to work, I get it. But you’ve got to believe me when I say it. When I say nothing is going to happen to you.”

You reached up to dry your eyes again, all but running out of tears by now after the heavy cry session you had just had wrapped up in Rafayel’s arms. You let out a small hiccup, before offering him a small nod. It didn’t really matter if you believed him, but honestly- it was so much better than anything before. So much more comforting than any of the times before. Any of the times where you sat in your bedroom alone, praying that you could get one more extra day squeezed out of the week, out of going back to the university, to avoid seeing the man who had ruined your entire life as he ‘explored’ the ‘public’ campus like some sort of shark circling your bleeding body. 

Rafayel watched you as you slowly composed yourself, reaching out a hand to rest on your shoulder, tenderly. His kindness radiating from the contact. “Now, is it okay if we go somewhere? I think it would be better for you if you could go somewhere you can relax for a little while. I invited you to my studio, maybe we can go there.”

You blinked at him. When had he invited you?

He watched your expression, processing that you were confused on the ask. “Did you get the text I sent you? Or were you already in trouble then?”

“Text-” You pause, then you remember the notification that had popped up just before your ex had seen you. You shook your head. “It had just come through as he-... approached… me. I didn’t see what it said.”

He flashed you a small smile, one that would win every prize in your book. 

“It was asking you if you were already off work, and if not, would you want to meet me at the station, so that we could head to my studio and finish up some work I need to get done.” 

You stared at him for a moment, your mouth slightly agape, before you smiled back at him. It was timid, and you were still nervous. But with his hand against your shoulder as the two of you walked through the edges of Linkon City back towards one of his studios, you couldn’t help but feel just a little bit better. 

Just a little bit more at ease. 

—

And a week later, you were back at work. You had been for the last few days. You’d gone on a few missions, taken down a dozen Wanderers, and saved a few civilians in that time. But nowhere had you seen your ex- not on a street corner, not running down an alleyway, not even at the doorstep of the Hunter’s Association. 

But you’d seen Rafayel. 

One day he was sitting at the cafe across the street from the Association’s building, sketching charcoal as he invited you to come and get something to eat for lunch, to sit with him and talk about your day. Another, he was there when you got off, a light drizzle sprinkling the street as he offered to share his umbrella with you and walk you home. On your day off, he ended up at your door, huffing about his next exhibition, and whether or not you wanted to come with him to stave off the boredom he was surely going to be drowning in. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he was doing. But there was also no pattern to his appearances- sometimes you wouldn’t see him all day, only speaking to him through incessant texts and phone calls. Other times, you’d see him two or three or more times throughout your day. Something about the chaotic approach made you feel even more… comfortable. Despite everything that had happened. It felt like he was always around, even when you didn’t expect it. 

It felt like he was always keeping watch for you. 

And maybe you still hadn’t gotten over what had happened on the platform, and you still felt uneasy stepping on the train, arm hooked in Rafayel’s as he complained about not being able to find the green he needed to finish a piece. Maybe you still felt worthless, for still caring about what happened to that wretched man, after everything he had done to you, after all of the pain he had caused you. 

But at least, as you stared up at the splashes of color that coated the canvas in front of you, late after work the evening before your day off, sitting in Rafayel’s studio as he dozed off over a few cups of color he had been working on while you scrolled through your phone, you had someone. 

At least you had someone who was intent on changing everything for you. 

Who was intent on making sure you were okay. No matter what.

[machine-saint]

the op of that "you should restart your computer every few days" post blocked me so i'm going to perform the full hater move of writing my own post to explain why he's wrong

why should you listen to me: took operating system design and a "how to go from transistors to a pipelined CPU" class in college, i have several servers (one physical, four virtual) that i maintain, i use nixos which is the linux distribution for people who are even bigger fucking nerds about computers than the typical linux user. i also ran this past the other people i know that are similarly tech competent and they also agreed OP is wrong (haven't run this post by them but nothing i say here is controversial).

anyway the tl;dr here is:

you don't need to shut down or restart your computer unless something is wrong or you need to install updates

i think this misconception that restarting is necessary comes from the fact that restarting often fixes problems, and so people think that the problems are because of the not restarting. this is, generally, not true. in most cases there's some specific program (or part of the operating system) that's gotten into a bad state, and restarting that one program would fix it. but restarting is easier since you don't have to identify specifically what's gone wrong. the most common problem i can think of that wouldn't fall under this category is your graphics card drivers fucking up; that's not something you can easily reinitialize without restarting the entire OS.

this isn't saying that restarting is a bad step; if you don't want to bother trying to figure out the problem, it's not a bad first go. personally, if something goes wrong i like to try to solve it without a restart, but i also know way, way more about computers than most people.

as more evidence to point to this, i would point out that servers are typically not restarted unless there's a specific need. this is not because they run special operating systems or have special parts; people can and do run servers using commodity consumer hardware, and while linux is much more common in the server world, it doesn't have any special features to make it more capable of long operation. my server with the longest uptime is 9 months, and i'd have one with even more uptime than that if i hadn't fucked it up so bad two months ago i had to restore from a full disk backup. the laptop i'm typing this on has about a month of uptime (including time spent in sleep mode). i've had servers with uptimes measuring in years.

there's also a lot of people that think that the parts being at an elevated temperature just from running is harmful. this is also, in general, not true. i'd be worried about running it at 100% full blast CPU/GPU for months on end, but nobody reading this post is doing that.

the other reason i see a lot is energy use. the typical energy use of a computer not doing anything is like... 20-30 watts. this is about two or three lightbulbs worth. that's not nothing, but it's not a lot to be concerned over. in terms of monetary cost, that's maybe $10 on your power bill. if it's in sleep mode it's even less, and if it's in full-blown hibernation mode it's literally zero.

there are also people in the replies to that post giving reasons. all of them are false.

temporary files generally don't use enough disk space to be worth worrying about

programs that leak memory return it all to the OS when they're closed, so it's enough to just close the program itself. and the OS generally doesn't leak memory.

'clearing your RAM' is not a thing you need to do. neither is resetting your registry values.

your computer can absolutely use disk space from deleted files without a restart. i've taken a server that was almost completely full, deleted a bunch of unnecessary files, and it continued fine without a restart.

[yoonkinii]

Sukuna with drunk y♡u

Warning(s): cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of spanking in a sexual scenario, brief mention of puking. Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (check for more AU content!) Important note: I am deeply sorry it has taken me so long to update this AU. I was really struggling to write something I was happy with. It took me a while to realize this but I can not just solely write for this AU. This does not mean I am going to stop writing it, it just means updates for this AU will release at a slower rate since I will be writing other things. This is just a way to prevent me from writer block. Thank You!

He might kill you. No, scratch that, he will kill you. Sukuna curses to himself, drumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as he gets stopped by yet another red light. He had left the house the moment he realized just how drunk you were. 

Another curse slips from his lips as the light finally turns green. He should have never let you go to that college frat party. But in his defense, he knew you needed a break from school and that your friend with a smoking problem would be there as well. Karma was surely biting him in the ass now. 

His phone screen lights up, displaying your contact name. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he picks up his phone to read your text. A long, annoyed sigh escapes his nose at your response to his previous message.

He only slightly feared what he would find when he arrived at the party. You had sent him the location a few days earlier at his request. He wanted to know how far away you would be - not because he was worried about being apart from you, of course. 

A few more minutes on the road and a few turns later, Sukuna enters a crowded street. Parked cars line both sides, causing him to frown in distaste at the sheer number of people attending the party.

It wasn’t hard for Sukuna to find the house responsible for his girlfriend’s current state. College students littered the lawn, drinking, laughing, and a few even making out. Sukuna rolled his eyes, parking his car right in the middle of the street. His door slammed shut behind him, drawing the attention of several partygoers. One look at his irked expression had them sealing their lips and diverting their attention elsewhere. 

Passing through the open front door, Sukuna’s senses were immediately assaulted by flashing neon lights, the stench of alcohol and sweat, and the press of bodies. Shoving his way through the crowd and casting a glare at anyone who dared to yell at him, he searched for your familiar head. He knew exactly what you were wearing, having taken a photo of you before you left with Shoko because, in his words, you looked hot. You wore a black off-the-shoulder mini dress with long sleeves that flared slightly at the wrists and knee-length boots to match. Even knowing what you were wearing didn’t make it any easier to find you in the throng of people. 

A figure in the corner of his eye catches Sukuna’s attention. It’s Shoko, leaning against a wall in the living room between two men he’s never seen before. His long strides quickly close the distance between them. Sukuna watches as Shoko cracks a smile at something the white-haired boy says to the dark-haired one. As if sensing his approach, Shoko’s eyes darted up to meet Sukuna’s. Her brows pinch slightly in confusion before something clicks, and with a cheeky smile, she points towards the kitchen. 

Huffing a breath, he follows her directions, ignoring the way Shoko’s two friends pester her with questions about him. If Sukuna thought the living room was bad, the kitchen is worse. His shoes stick to the alcohol-soaked floors as bodies come in and out, refilling their cups or grabbing whole bottles. A shrill shriek is his only warning before a body crashes into his own.

“S’kuna! How are you here?” You look up, pressing your chin to his chest. Looking at him as if hung the stars himself. Instinctively, Sukuna’s hand rests on the curve of your ass, his fingers digging slightly into the soft flesh. 

“I dro-” 

A wet kiss silences him, your lips pressing firmly against his. Standing on your tiptoes, you cradle his face with your palms. Sukuna reciprocates with a small grunt, his hand on your ass pulling you closer, flush against his chest. 

Humming into the kiss, you pull away with a content smile. Sukuna looks down at you, taking in your disheveled appearance. Even in the low light, he can see your flushed cheeks, a clear sign of how drunk you are. Your hair, once meticulously styled, is now frazzled, with strands sticking to your sweaty neck. Even your makeup is smudge in some place.

Suddenly, you blink and a wide grin overtakes your face. “Let’s go dance!” you exclaim, turning towards the living room. You don’t even make it a step before a hand pulls you back by the waist.

“No,” Sukuna’s voice is final as he practically drags you out of the house. He catches Shoko’s gaze to let her know he’s taking you home. A simple nod from her is all he needs before he picks you up and slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Naturally, this spectacle draws attention. Some eyes are curious, others worried about what is happening. Sukuna hisses as you squirm in his grasp, whining all the way back to his car. 

“Put me down! I’m not done.” 

Sukuna doesn’t answer as he opens the passenger door. He doesn’t answer as you complain when he sets you down on your feet, or when he buckles you in after getting you into the car. You’re left to pout, your narrowed eyes boring holes through the front windshield. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Sukuna chides, pinching your cheeks and chuckling softly when you swat at his hand. “You don’t need to drink or party anymore. Your words are so slurred it gives me a headache.”

His words seem to snap you out of something as you turn to look at him. Sukuna is instantly taken aback by your watery gaze. “I give you headaches?” you ask softly, biting your bottom lip in shame. 

Sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath. Of course, you were the emotional type when drunk. Your emotions shifted instantly, it almost gave him whiplash. 

“No, Love,” Sukuna’s palm runs gently over your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I was kidding. You would never give me a headache.” He presses his lips to your forehead, hoping to calm you down before you break down over something so trivial. 

Your eyes trail him up and down warily, as if searching for a lie hidden on his skin. After a moment, a smile graces your lips, deeming him truthful. Sukuna shuts the door, relieved by your smile. Walking around the car, his shoulders slump - just what in the world is he going to do with you?

A giggle escapes your lips for the umpteenth time as you trip over your own two feet. Sukuna’s arm wrapped around your waist is the only reason you haven’t face-planted into the floor. The corner of Sukuna’s mouth curls in irritation, constantly having to carry your weight as you stumble and lean into him. The trek from his driveway to the front door is filled with you putting your dead weight against him, your face buried in his chest.

Even now, as he uses his free hand to unlock the door, you dangle off him, rubbing your cheek on his bicep while mumbling incoherent words. Sukuna has half a mind to break the door down just to get inside quicker, but thankfully, the key turns, and the door opens with a shove of his foot. 

Stowing his keys in his pocket, he decides he’s had enough of your stumbling. You squeal as he lifts you over his shoulder once more, carrying you to his bedroom. 

“Oh my God, your ass looks great from this angle,” you exclaim, your face now level with it. 

Sukuna doesn’t respond, though he briefly considers swatting your ass in response to your comment. He restrains himself, thinking it might be more enjoyable another time. 

An ‘oof’ escapes your lips as your back collides with Sukuna’s bed, a giggle bubbling up as you bounce softly against the surface. Sitting up, you eye Sukuna through your lashes as he stands before you with a raised brow, arms crossed in mock annoyance. 

You flop back down onto the bed, placing your heel on Sukuna’s thigh. “Take my shoes off, pleeease,” you drawl.

Sukuna grumbles under his breath about how he can't believe he’s letting you treat him like this. Despite his complaints, he unzips your boot without hesitation, tapping your thigh to signal you to give him the other foot. Once both shoes are off - along with your socks - he tosses them aside, not caring where they land. 

“Stand up,” he orders. 

You groan, annoyed at having to leave the comfort of his mattress. Once you’re standing, albeit swaying slightly, Sukuna motions for you to turn around with a twirl of his finger. 

Sukuna’s hands are cool against your skin, his fingertips trailing across your exposed shoulders. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, savoring the way you lean back into his touch. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unzips your dress, letting it pool at your ankles as he tugs it off. 

“Whoa - you want me that badly, Kuna? I think you’re obsessed with me,” you tease, blinking groggily at your discarded dress as you step out of it. 

Sukuna hums, his fingers sending shivers up your spine as they trace along your back. “I am,” he replies deeply, catching your drunken mind off guard. You whirl around to face him, but pause when you see he’s no longer behind you. Instad, he’s heading towards the bathroom connected to his room. You follow close behind, not wanting to be apart from your boyfriend after he’s treated you so tenderly. 

Leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom, you watch as Sukuna adjusts the shower head, testing the water until it reaches a comfortable temperature for you.  

“Take the rest of your clothes off,” Sukuna instructs, not even turning to ensure you’re nearby. He knows you are, simply because the room is silent, and you aren't babbling like you were during the car ride back. He confirms your presence when he hears the sounds of you shuffling out of your undergarments. 

You sigh in relief as you finally unhook your strapless bra, which had been tightly constricting your chest to prevent it from slipping down. 

Sukuna doesn’t need to tell you to get into the shower. You step in on your own, a contented sigh escaping your lips as the warm water cascades over your body, washing away the remnants of the night. Sukuna exits the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. He would never admit it openly, but he’s worried about you slipping in the shower, knowing how unsteady you are currently.

While you shower, Sukuna busies himself with gathering clothes for you to sleep in. He shrugs as he picks up a pair of your underwear, deeming it comfortable enough based on its appearance alone. He doesn’t bother looking for a bra; he knows how much you despise them.  It’s impossible for him not to know, given that every time you visit him after work or school, the first thing you do after kissing him is complain about how your bra feels like it’s cutting you in half. Maybe you were a  bit dramatic, but your point was clear. 

 After selecting one of his shirts for you, he sits on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the open bathroom door, ears straining for any sign that something might be wrong. 

“Kuna,” your voice calls out from the bathroom, “I’m finished.” 

Sukuna surprises you with how swiftly he enters the bathroom, placing the clothes he gathered on the counter. The water from the shower is off, no longer creating the rhythmic hum of falling water, leaving the room in a hushed silence. You watch him move through the glass shower walls, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. 

“Cat got your tongue, Doll?” His voice teases as he grabs a fresh towel from the cupboard, opening the shower door. He dries you with practiced ease, his touch gentle yet efficient. Your brain can’t seem to register the fact that you’re standing bare before him, or perhaps it does, but the alcohol dulls your embarrassment. 

Sukuna wraps the towel around your torso, leading you out of the shower. He fetches the clothes from the counter, kneeling before you to help you step into your underwear. Your hands instinctively find his shoulders for balance as you clumsily navigate the process. 

A shiver runs through you when he takes away the towel, the cold air hitting your skin. You wrap your arms around yourself without a second thought. 

“Move ‘em” Sukuna orders. You comply, letting your arms fall away from your chest. He helps you put on the shirt, one of his, evident by its oversized fit. The hem ends at your mid-thigh, more like a nightgown than a shirt. 

You’re too busy inspecting the shirt to notice Sukuna approaching you with a wipe. It’s only when he tilts your head up by your jaw that you realize what he’s doing. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching his brows furrow in concentration as he wipes your face. 

“Removing the rest of your makeup,” he answers nonchalantly. “You’ll kill me if I let you go to sleep looking like a raccoon.” 

Your nose wrinkles in distaste at the comparison, but it doesn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat. He’s gentle. The man who wouldn’t hesitate to steal candy from a baby, is gentle. He listens to your complaints, even when it seems like he isn’t, and remembers them for the future. 

Sukuna freezes as he notices your quivering lips, his eyes widening slightly. He pulls the wipe away from your face, concern replacing his usual stoic expression. “Why are you going to cry, woman?” he asks, the pad of his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. 

You blink away the tears, shaking your head as you gently take the wipe from his hands, removing the remnants of your mascara. Tossing the wipe towards the trashcan, which you completely miss - something Sukuna will handle tomorrow - as he stands before the sink. 

With tired eyes, you watch him as the excitement and fuel from the alcohol dissipates, leaving you feeling as if the next time you close your eyes, you won’t be able to open them again. Sukuna holds out your toothbrush, waiting for you to start brushing before he stands behind you with a comb in hand. He gently runs the comb through your hair, and you watch him through the mirror, smiling as he frowns at each troublesome knot. 

Once he’s done, he steps back, allowing you to spit out the pasty foam. You smack your lips in distaste at the minty flavor coating your mouth. Sukuna places your toothbrush back where it belongs before he brushes his own teeth. You exit the bathroom, eager to go to sleep as Sukuna gets himself ready for bed. 

Lifting the covers, you flop onto the bed, face pressed against the pillow as you relax. You don’t move, even as the bed dips with Sukuna’s added weight. It’s only when he tuts that you shift your head in the pillow to look at him. He watches you with narrowed brows. 

“I think the least I deserve right now is being able to hold you while we sleep,” he complains, his lips set into a hard frown. 

An airy giggle escapes you as you scoot closer to him. No longer dressed, Sukuna is wearing only his boxers as his nighttime attire, something you’re used to at this point. Hooking a leg over his waist, he slots his own leg between yours. You sigh in contentment, your nose burying into the sip of his throat. One hand rests against his chest while the other buries itself under the pillow. 

A low sound rumbles from the back of Sukuna’s throat as his hand rubs your bare back after sneaking inside your shirt. His chin rests against your head. Even though it’s late, he can’t seem to find sleep until you do. The rhythmic sound of your breathing acts as a lullaby, beckoning him to close his and give in to the drowsiness he has been fighting since you texted him.

It didn’t matter where or how late it was, if it was you- he would always answer. Even if it means having to hold your hair back as you puke the next morning, snarling at him as he makes snide comments. Even if it means dealing with your shitty attitude from a pounding headache - he will always be there. 

-

Tag List (open):@kalulakunundrum , @fushipurro

[deeoccasionallyspeaks]

i just know yuuji religiously checks up on you after shibuuya.

he’s the one to come home & break the news to you. everyone else figures you’d rather hear it from him, & he does too. he comes immediately to you and kento’s shared apartment, still in his old clothes but he had the decency to wipe the blood & grime off of his face. solemnly brings his fist to the door to knock twice, knowing he had no choice but to give you the horrible news.

& you kind of already knew before yuuji even got there. kento always kept you updated, shooting a quick text in between exorcising curses. answering your “how’s it going” texts with a thumbs up emoji at the least.

however when you got that “you made life worth living. i love you” text from him, you already knew that was his way of saying goodbye. he just didn’t want to actually say it.

but you were so strong and mature, one of kento’s favorite traits of you. so you knew yuuji delivering the news to you would be harder on him. after all, he’s the one that called you and kento “mom & dad”. he’s the one who came over every sunday for family dinner. he’s the one who helped kento paint the living room a different color to surprise you.

so when yuuji does bring his fist up to knock, you immediately swing the door open greeting him with a sad smile. a look in your eyes that showed yuuji all too well that you already knew.

& the boy immediately shivers as a deep breathe he didn’t even realize he was holding escapes his lungs, letting out such a defeated sound. he immediately looks down and shakes his head, unable to look at you- almost as if he failed you.

however he did everything but fail you, and you let him know by wrapping your arms around the boy, finding the back of his head to craddle it. although much younger, his tall frame leans over into your shoulder as he lets the tears & whines leave his body. you silently cry with him, both of you doing your best to comfort one another.

“he was so proud of you, you know?” you whisper, applying more pressure to the comforting circles you were rubbing on his back, “he still is”.

you both stand in silence for a few minutes longer, coming to terms with the horrible reality that kento nanami was no longer physically with you, but now permanently resides in your hearts.

“thank you for coming, yuuji. i wouldn’t want to hear the news from anyone but you”

& the months after that are dreadful. you soon realize your strong personality could only hold you for so long. it gets hard to eat. bathing feels like a chore. you switch from being insolent to sorrowful. & you try to keep it together, but yuuji notices.

you are who he calls ‘mom’, afterall.

so he still comes by even when you send him a passive aggressive text saying you want to be alone. he brings you food and makes you eat it in front of him even if you say you already ate (he can tell when you’re lying). & he listens as you curse at whatever gods for taking your husband away from you. he understands when you break down and tell him you don’t know how to live life without kento.

& he doesn’t try to sell you dreams by telling you it’ll get better. he doesn’t try to make you see the bright side. no, he lets you grieve because, yeah, it’s not fair. no, you don’t deserve that, neither did kento.

but he keeps coming around to let you know that you’re not alone. to make bearing this burden a little easier.

& some more months go by, and yuuji hears the first real genuine laugh from you since the incident when he’s explaining a scene from this comedy movie he recently watched. you’re both sitting at the kitchen table, books strewn across the wood as yuuji came over needing help on a ridiculous assignment gojo assigned. & you both think that maybe things will start to feel better soon.

especially with kento’s framed picture looking down at you both from the wall adjacent.

yeah, things will get better soon.

———————————————————————-

omg i dont even know why i wrote that like why am i crying

[signedkoko]

Howdy! I have to questions, one is that I was wondering if I could be 🎧 anon? Secondly I was wondering if could request Stolas x Reader and like a blurb of reader becoming a parental figure to Octavia?

Stolas X Reader [Romantic]

In which Stolas introduces you to his daughter, and how your relationship with Octavia blooms.

Stolas and you met around the same time as his divorce was going through its first stages

You yourself were getting a divorce and had recommended to him the attorney you had for handling settlements, as well as offered the support of 'hey, at least we aren't alone!'

Later, he ran into you at a formal gala, where you both indulged in getting to know one another; you joked about how your divorces went and updated one another on life

Stolas found you so easy to talk to, and he found himself a lot less stressed when he was able to share his thoughts with someone more level-headed

Your dating life comes slow as you both work around your past and try to forgive yourself for where you've ended up, but it all feels so much easier having someone with you

You are the one to make things official, inviting him to a private dinner where you confess

Even though you told him you'd wait till he was ready, Stolas was ready right then and there and gladly accepted

He is noticeably happier and has much less trouble when Stella tries to ruin his mood

When it comes to his daughter, though, he doesn't want to rush her into meeting you, and you are more than fine staying away from his home until she is ready

Stolas mentions that he is seeing someone and tells her he won't take it any further until she gives him the right of way

When she does ask to meet you, you make sure it's just the two of you and go out for brunch at a cafe you think she'll like

Octavia is also pretty harmed by her mother, so she is very reluctant to open up to you, but she knows she likes you

You are calm, never in a rush, and always go with the flow

She likes talking to you about her parents because you never seem jealous or rude, and meeting up with you eventually becomes a habit

You really win her over when you buy concert tickets and say, 'Accidentally got a second, so you really would love if she could come with you! Oh, wha! Its your favourite band? Mine too!'

You have an amazing time, and Stolas is overjoyed to see her come back chatting you up and excitedly showing off her merchandise

He hadn't seen her like that in so long

Octavia is more than happy to have you as a parent

The first time she calls you mom is an accident

It happens on your birthday when she gifts you a record of the album you both heard at your first concert together

She never stops calling you mom after, though

Author's Note - I love Octavia sm she deserves a NICE HAPPY AND HEALTHY HOME RN!! RIGHT NOW!!! And welcome to the blog anon!! I added you so long ago and I feel so bad for the wait you had to go through,,,plz forgive me,,,,

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Come Out and Play 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom welcomes an old friend back into her life that brings chaos with him.

Characters: Thor, Loki

Note: Two silverfoxes for the price of one

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

You hide away in the room that was once your own. You’re dressed and ready to go but waiting for the chance to flit out. You have a fib ready to go. You’ll tell your mom the landlord called and you had to leave quickly. 

The opportunity hasn’t come yet as the house is lively with noise. You didn’t wake up early enough to get ahead of your mother and her friend. You know he stayed the night; you can see his car through the window. A steel grey SUV with a boxy build. 

As you build your courage, bag in hand, with a plan to dart down and grab your shoes and coat, there’s a knock at the door. Dang. You drop your bag as you mother calls through to you. 

“Honey boo,” she trills, “are you hungry?” 

You huff and cross the room. You open the door only a few inches to see her. You stare back at her blankly. 

“Thor cooked some breakfast for us? Isn’t that lovely?” She preens.  

You weigh your options. There’s not really more than one. If you say no and rush out now, that would be rude. And a free meal isn’t something you should pass up. Not with your rent due. 

You nod and come out into the hallway, “okay, thanks.” 

“Oh, don’t thank me. I know you’ll be polite and let Thor know you appreciate it,” she steps back and waits for you to go ahead of her. “I’m so lucky to have such a good daughter.” 

“Mom,” you grumble. 

“Sorry, I’m just so... happy. I miss you,” she tugs your hair playfully from behind. You feel a little icky as you suspect the true reason for her good mood. Not that she isn’t always chipper. 

“Miss you too, mom,” you throw over your shoulder as you come down the stairs. 

You slow as you near the kitchen, hearing the subtle clinking of dishes. Your mom points you into the dining room and you gratefully accept the detour. 

“I’ll check in on him. I know he was wrestling the coffee machine.” 

You sit at the table as she tromps off into the kitchen. You hear Thor’s timbre and her singsong replies. You can’t make out the words, not until the last. 

“Go, sit,” Thor insists. “I’ve got it all figured out, Seli.” 

Your mother giggles before she appears again. She sits across from you. She’s always been bubbly but she seems bouncier. You’re happy for her. She deserves someone. It’s been so long since your father passed. You always felt a bit guilty for how much she put into raising you. 

“Ah, ladies,” Thor pops in just behind her, “coffee for both? I can always put on tea.” 

You nod and your mom turns, “yes, both of us. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” he grins and your eyes meet for a startling second. 

He stalks back to the kitchen. You wonder if a man his size ever does anything quietly. You tap your fingers on the table as you wait. 

“Hon,” your mom reaches across, “thanks.” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” you insist as you still your hands. 

“I know it’s a lot.” 

“He’s nice,” you say. 

She smiles even bigger, “he is, isn’t he?” 

You nod again. You can’t say you really know him. You just love seeing her so excited. 

“Ah coffee,” Thor declares as he sweeps in, “did we require sugar, dairy?” 

“Black,” you confirm, “thank you.” 

“Just some almond milk for me, please,” your mother replies. 

“As you wish,” he bows his head and backs out. 

It’s awkward. Almost as if you’re at a restaurant. It’s a bit too much but you suppose he feels just as weird staying in someone else’s house. Especially with their daughter crashing on the fun. 

He dips out once more and you squirm in your seat. You just need to get through this and you can go home. It might not be very warm there but it’s your own. 

Thor returns with two plates in hand and the cart of almond milk under his elbow. He sets a plate by your mom, and the milk, then reaches across to put the other before you. You chew your lip sheepishly. 

“Oh, thank you, this is so amazing,” your mother squeals, “and it smells delicious.” 

“Thank you,” you echo softly. 

“Full Norwegian. Smoked salmon, scrambled eggs with my secret ingredient, Jarlsberg cheese, and some oat bread toasted.” He announces proudly.  

“Wow, oh my god,” your mom touches her cheeks. “I never knew you could cook.” 

“Well, I had a few kids, had to learn,” he chuckles boisterously. “Now, please, dig in. I’ll just go get my plate.” 

“We can wait--” 

“No, no, it’s best to have it hot,” he insists, “please.” 

You pick up your fork only as your mother does the same. You use the fork and knife to pick apart the salmon. It really is tasty. You take small bites as your stomach swirls uneasily. 

Thor sits by your mother and wiggles as settles into the seat, “so, literature? What year?” He asks. 

“Oh, um...” you peek at your mom, “I finished last year.” 

“Ah, sorry. I think I misheard. That’s great. All set then. And are we going for another degree or out there is the wonderful world of employment?” 

“Erm, well, I work right now at a temp agency. Desk jobs, mostly.” 

“Oh, very interesting. You probably meet all sorts. See different places,” he remarks. 

“When there’s work,” you shrug. 

“Of course. That’s the catch then,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” you hum. 

“She’ll get there. Remember when we were in school and I worked at that pop up shop? Oof. They had me selling overpriced anti-aging cream. I was nineteen. Imagine.” She chirps. 

“Oh yes, I was lucky enough to work for my father’s firm. Well, luck being a relative term. He is a hard ass but I suppose I turned out alright. Now my brother for the matter,” he chortles and shakes his head. “So, just the one then, Seli?” 

“Just my precious bean,” your mom grins and you cringe. She can be so embarrassing. 

“Ah, I always wondered what it would be like to be an only child. You must be spoiled, especially with her as your mother. She’s always been a horrible enabler,” he nudges her and she guffaws. 

“Me? I would day you are a bad influence,” she pushes back on him. 

You muster a smile. Just to be nice. Then you focus on your plate and the food. The quicker you finish, the sooner you can be gone. Alone. 

💜

“I hope I haven’t run you out,” Thor catches you off-guard as you sit to pull on your boots. You pop your head up and wince. You were going to say bye to your mom before you fled but you just can’t seem to summon your usual invisibility. 

“Um, no, I gotta get back. See if they can fix the radiator.” 

“Radiator? Hm, I used to have a fussy one back in college. Actually, my first home was built at the turn of the century, not this one, and it had some rattly ones as well,” he rambles, much like your mother. You see why they get along. “I could have a look. It’s rather cold out, you wouldn’t mind the ride, eh?” 

“Oh, well, that’s fine. My landlord can fix it,” you tie your boots as you mutter at the carpet. 

“That is so sweet,” your mom strides in and you sit up in surprise. It’s almost as if she was waiting to sneak up on you. “Oh, Thor, would you mind? I really hate her on the bus. Did you hear about last week with that woman and her purse?” 

“Mom,” you drone. 

“I don’t mind at all. I’ve got some running around to do. Can’t be too far out of the way. Besides, I can see you’re keen to have me out of your hair already, Seli,” he chortles. 

“No, no, oh it’s been so nice to have you. Both of you! Have you found a place yet?” She asks. 

“Still nothing,” he answers with a tut. “Mother’s a lot like you though. She likes having me around, better when the kids chance to visit.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to meet them. Won’t that be nice, honey? I think his daughter’s about your age,” she says around him. 

“She’s a year or two back. Still in school,” he intones, “close enough then, eh?” 

“It’s really not...” you begin but see your mom’s smile falter. “Oh, well, thanks, sure. It’s really nice to offer.” 

You stand and both of them smile. “I’ll just get my coat and that,” Thor says. 

He moves around you in the entry way and your mom flutters closer, “oh, honey bun, I’m going to miss you!” She hugs you and rocks you. You’ve never lived in a different city but she acts like she never sees you. “Don’t get in trouble, alright?” 

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Thor jibes as he pulls on his thick flannel coat. 

“Love you, mom,” you murmur quietly. 

“Love you!” She lets you go and pats your head. “You call. Let me know about the heat. Don’t you dare stay if it’s freezing. You’ll catch cold.” 

“Nothing I can’t fix, I’m sure,” Thor insist, “come, I’ve still got a whole list I should’ve done yesterday.” 

You give a wistful look to your mom and a small ‘bye’ before you reluctantly follow after the large man. He holds the door and you step out into the frigid air. You approach the steps warily. He’s still only a stranger to you. 

He frightens you as he puts his hand on your back and dips around you. He reaches the SUV first and opens the passenger door. You look over your shoulder as your mom waves giddily. 

“Drive safe!” She calls out. 

You turn and grab onto the door. You haul yourself up with your bag, an extra push from Thor along your lower back. You quickly swing into the seat and hug your knapsack. He closes the door without comment. 

You buckle your seat belt as he gets in the other side. You stare ahead as your mom gives one last wave and goes inside. You look down at your lap and pick at the zipper of your bag. The engine rumbles to life and you jolt as he reverses out of the driveway. 

He asks for your address as he idles in the middle of the street. You give it and he keys it into the GPS built into the dash. 

As he drives, you watch the houses pass outside the window. The cold makes the silence crisper. The heater blows warmth over you but you feel a shiver creeping nonetheless. 

“Mm, don’t take much after Selina. Quiet...” he muses. 

You nod. It’s the truth you can’t dispute that. 

“That’s not so bad though,” he says. “It means you put more thought into what you say. My brother can be the same way. Yet, he’ll often say too much.” 

You sniff and wiggle your foot impatiently. You’re burnt out from all the social interaction. You can handle your mom, but with his unannounced visit, you’re feeling yourself wear thin. 

He doesn’t say anything else, almost as if he can sense your reticence. You shrink down next to him. Your eyes threaten to close. You feel the how little sleep you truly got. Maybe you would’ve been better off sleeping in the cold. 

Finally, you get to your building. It would be a solace if he didn’t get out with you. You point him ahead to the building as you fish out your keys. 

You show him inside. You’re not used to the company. You’re always alone. Even your mom’s only been there a few times. You don’t like having her over because she just complains about it being too small. You tell her you don’t want to crowd her but she’s just wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“Brisk,” he says as he follows you down the hall. 

“If you can’t fix it, I’ll be okay,” you say. 

“Of course, but if I can, I’d hate to not look,” he assures. 

You unlock your door and let him in. He enters and stops to pull untie his boots. You do the same before you lead him further in. It feels like a violation to have him in your space. You’ve always been very protective of your bubble. 

He finds the radiator without direction. He grunts as he gets to his knees bracing his lower back, “never get old, mouse, or at least stretch,” he chuckles. “It isn’t fun.” 

He takes out his phone and shines it between the slats and bends further to see. He reaches underneath as you shiver behind him. He feels along and lets out an aha! 

“I think we only need to bleed the radiator,” he twists and something creaks loudly. “Just so.” 

He sits up and looks at you, “may be some trapped air. Easy repair but if you don’t know the little tricks, an easy miss,” he explains, “come, let me show you.” 

He beckons you over and flashes the light toward the small red knob, “this is the bleed. You can twist to release then close it back up.” 

“Okay,” you lean in and squint to see it. 

You lift your head, nearly brushing him with your nose and back up. 

“I’ll close it and give it a bit. Do you have the thermostat here? Or is it central control?” He asks. 

“Um just... on the radiator.” 

“Ah,” he cranks the knob tight then moves to the end of the metal heater. He moves the gauge and the radiator rattles. He puts his hands up. “Think I’ve done it.” 

“Thanks,” you wring your hands in front of you. “That’s... thanks.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He gets up with another grinding grunt and some popping in his knees. “Anything else before I go? Maybe a leaky faucet?” 

“No, no, that’s it,” you say but wince. Your mom would be disappointed in your lack of hospitality. Besides, he did help and he’s her friend. You can’t just kick him out. “Do you like tea?” 

“I love tea,” he smiles, “but let me not presume on you.” 

“It is cold in here. I was gonna make it anyway.” 

“Well, then, if it isn’t any trouble, how could I deny the little mouse?” 

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of physical fight, swearing, hospital, stitches, injuries to ribs and wrist, mentions of thoughts of cheating (i don’t condone), guilt, angst, characters under the influence of alcohol.

The tension between Matt and I hung in the air, a lingering echo of what had almost happened, but it was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling as I unlocked my phone. My phone had one notification - a text from Jess.

“Hey, are you okay? Alex got into a fight..Call me when you can!”

My stomach twisted, and I felt my heart drop. Why am I only hearing this from Jess? Why has no one else tried to contact me? Alex wasn’t the rowdy type, so for him to get into a fight at a nightclub, I knew it was bad.

Matt was already reading his own texts, his brows furrowed as he processed the information. “Shit.” He muttered, glancing at me with concern. “Alex got into a fight with one of his teammates. They’re saying he’s hurt.”

Panic set in, “His teammate?” I thought as I tried to piece together what could have happened. I rang Alex’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. My heart pounded in my chest, every worst case scenario flashing through my mind.

“We need to go,” I said, my voice trembling as I stood up. “We have to find him.”

Matt nodded, already grabbing his keys. “Emily said they’re at the hospital. Come on, I’ll drive.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur, my mind too consumed with worry to register much of what was happening around me. Matt stayed focused on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tight. I could tell he was worried too, even though he was doing his best to stay calm for my sake.

When we finally pulled up to the hospital, I spotted Emily standing outside, her phone pressed to her ear. She was pacing, looking more annoyed than worried, and the sight made my stomach turn. I knew Emily wasn’t perfect, but seeing her so detached at a moment like this made me question everything.

The closer we got to Emily, I realised she was just as drunk as she was at the party and it wasn’t the time for another one of her outbursts.

“Matt what took you so long, I’ve been here for ageeeeeesss.” Emily said, crossing her arms while stumbling her balance to one side. “They won’t let me see Alex yet. They’re still checking him out or whatever.”

Matt’s expression tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “Let’s just go inside and wait. I’m sure they’ll give us an update soon.”

We walked into the hospital together, the smell of sanitizer hitting us immediately. The stark white lights made everything feel even more surreal. The waiting area was half empty, a few people scattered around, their faces etched with worry. We found a quiet corner to sit, the tension between us palpable.

“Do you know what happened Emily?” I asked.

“I have no idea, one minute we were all dancing, the next thing punches were been thrown.” Emily replied, visibly upset.

As we waited, Emily kept glancing between me and Matt, her suspicion growing with every second. “ Wait, did you two come here together?”

“Yeah,” Matt said quickly, his voice steady as he lied. “I picked her up on the way here, figured it would be easier since Y/n needs to be here too.”

I glanced at Matt, grateful for the quick cover, but I couldn’t help feel the tug on my heart. I wasn’t too sure if she believed what Matt said, but before she could press further, a nurse approached us.

“Are you both here for Alex too?” she asked, her eyes on Matt and I.

“Yes,” I said, standing up quickly. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable.” the nurse said, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “The doctors are finishing up with him now, but he should be able to go home tonight.”

I nodded, relief washing over me. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

“Just one of you for now.” The nurse said, glancing between us. “You can all go in once he’s moved to a recovery room.”

“I’ll go! I’ve known him the longest.” Emily said quickly, as she jogged down the hallway bare foot, her high heels sat on the chair next to us.

Matt and I exchanged a look, but I couldn’t bring myself to argue. This was Alex, my boyfriend - the person I was supposed to care about more than anyone. So why am I not the one walking down that hall right now.

We sat back down, the silence between us heavy with unspoken thoughts. I couldn’t shake the image of Alex, hurt and in pain, and yet my mind kept drifting back to the situation with Matt earlier, and the way we’d almost… I shook my head, trying to focus on the present.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, his voice soft as he reached out to place a comforting hand on my arm.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’m just worried. I can’t believe this happened.”

“Alex is tough. He’ll be fine,” Matt said, but there was something in his tone that made me wonder if he was trying to convince himself as much as me.

We lapsed into silence again, waiting for the nurse to return. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn’t have the energy to check it. Instead, I leaned back in the uncomfortable ER chair, my thoughts spinning in a million different directions.

What had happened to Alex to make him snap like that? And why did I feel so guilty sitting here with Matt, even though I knew we hadn’t done anything wrong?

Shortly after she ran down the hall, Emily came back, looking more irritated than concerned. “Alex said he wants you in the room with him instead.” she said with a sigh. “Well I would like to think my own boyfriend would prefer me to be with him.” I thought to myself.

I nodded, standing up again. “Okay, I’ll go see him.”

As I went to walk down the hallway Emily had come from, the nurse reappeared, motioning for us to follow her.

"He's ready to be discharged, you can all come in." She said with a gentle smile.

Emily, Matt, and I exchanged a brief glance before we trailed after the nurse down the quiet hallway. When we reached Alex's room, I felt a strange mix of emotions - relief that he was okay, but also a deep unease right in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t quite shake.

Alex was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, his wrist wrapped in a sling and bandage covering the cut on his forehead. His face lit up when he saw us, a crooked, drunken smile spreading across his lips. Despite everything, he looked like a little kid who had just been given out to but was happy to see all of us.

“Thereeee she issss.” He slurred, his voice thick from the painkillers and the alcohol still infused in his system. He tried to stand but swayed slightly, prompting the nurse to steady him. “My dream girl, I’m so glad you’re here.” Alex said as his gaze landed on me. He reached out and pulled me into a hug, his arm wrapping around my shoulders.

“Of course, Alex,” I said softly, stepping back slightly as he released me to sit back on the edge of the bed. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

I knelt down beside him, my heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable. “What happened?”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured, “Got into it with one of the guys. So stupid, it shouldn’t have happened.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes glassy as he tried to focus on me. “You’re the best, you know that? The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He leaned in to kiss me, his lips finding my forehead. I couldn’t help but notice how Matt’s expression darkened out of the corner of my eye. I glanced at him, catching the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

After letting us have our moment, the nurse gave us a rundown of Alex’s injuries - a Grade 2 wrist sprain, a few bruises ribs and a small cut on his forehead that required stitches. Recovery time is 4 weeks. They’d given him something for the pain, which explained his current state, and informed us after a bit more paperwork, we were free to leave.

Matt kept focus on us despite Emily yapping in his ear. “4 weeks recovery time? Thank god you’ll be good as new just in time for Barcelona!” Emily exclaimed in relief.

Matts eyes were dark with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. He seemed to snap out of it when Alex turned to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

You’re a good dude, Matt,” Alex said with a grin. “Thanks for getting her here. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Matt nodded, his face plastered with a neutral look, though I could sense the tension beneath it. “No problem, man. Just glad you’re okay.”

The nurse handed Alex his discharge papers, and now that everything was finalized, we could leave. Matt stepped forward to help me get Alex to his feet, his arm gently sliding around my boyfriend’s back to support him making sure he wasn’t putting pressure on Alex’s ribs in the process. As they stood, Alex winced, so I moved closer, ready to catch him if he fell.

“Thanks, Matt,” Alex mumbled, his head lolling back against Matt’s shoulder. He turned his blurred gaze to me, a dopey smile spreading across his face. “I’m so glad we’re all here. Together.” He reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek before he pulled me in and leaned in to kiss my forehead again. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The kiss, meant to be tender and affectionate, felt like a sack of rocks sitting in my stomach. I’m standing in a hospital room, holding my boyfriend up, with someone who I had thoughts of kissing tonight. The whole scene felt surreal, like we were all playing parts in some fucked up drama that none of us had signed up for.

Emily took Matt’s keys off his waistband and walked ahead of us all, ready to unlock his car and open all the doors for us. Emily took the passenger seat as I sat in the back with Alex. As we drove back to our apartment, Alex’s head laid back against the seat, his eyes half-closed. Emily was asleep with her head resting against the car window. I sat in silence, my thoughts racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened tonight. God if Alex had have just come home everything would be different. Everything would be fine.

When we finally pulled up to our building, Matt helped me get Alex inside while Emily trailed behind, groggy from her 20 minute nap. As soon as we got him to our bed, Alex was out cold, his breathing deep and even. Emily sighed, brushing a hand through her hair, clearly exhausted.

“We should get going,” she said, glancing at Matt. “I hope you’re okay Y/n. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

Matt nodded, his eyes meeting mine briefly before he looked away. “Yeah we should get going. You should get some rest Y/n.”

Emily gave me a quick hug, her perfume lingering in the air as she pulled away. “Take care of him, okay?” she said, her voice softer than before.

“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t worry, I will.”

As Emily left to walk back to the car, Matt lingered in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me. “If you need anything… you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Matt,” I said, offering him a small, tired smile. “I appreciate it. For everything.”

He nodded, hesitating for a moment as if he wanted to say more, but then he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a sleeping Alex. I looked down at him, his face peaceful in sleep. I had almost crossed a line tonight. But for now, all I could do was focus on the present. I pulled the duvet over Alex and lay down next to him. I checked my phone, remembering I felt a notification while I was sitting in the hospital. It was from Jess again, but the message had been deleted.

a/n : this isn’t proof read properly, it’s 8am and i’ve been working on this since 5am with 3 hours sleep <3 jet lag is reallllll i’ll fix anything that needs to be fixed later

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf

*can you pls lmk if you actually got tagged in this, this shit isnt tagging most ppl idk why

[andypantsx3]

andie's wips for gaza — ˖˚˳⊹

hi all! i'm not sure if this is something anyone would be interested in but i'm giving it a shot. i have a little capacity to contribute to fics for gaza's option to sponsor a wip. below are a couple of my wips i think i can realistically deliver all or most of before end of year, divided into current wips + a few smutty one shots i hope you might be interested in. if any more of my time clears up i can add more & let y'all know!!

i'm setting the threshold at the standard rate of $1 donation per 100 words, any extra would be sooo incredibly appreciated but obviously not at all required! notes on how this will all work below my wips.

update 5/29 — ˖˚˳⊹

All of my WIPs have been fully funded! I am so deeply grateful to everyone who donated and/or helped spread the word. I promise to work hard and write fics that live up to just how much this means to me. If you still have capacity to donate, I encourage you to check out the other authors participating and help fund their WIPs too. Thank you so much; your generosity means the entire world to me.

current wips — ˖˚˳⊹

something in the water : todoroki shouto x reader

As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems. — estimated remaining wc: 3 chapters @ 3k each (9,000 total words) — donated wc: 9,000/9,000 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 3,800/9,000 words

ready or knot : todoroki shouto x reader

Todoroki Shouto is so unsettlingly beautiful, you’re certain he has to be an omega. That is, until a chance encounter with a pushy alpha reveals you were incredibly mistaken—and the surprises don’t stop there. Shouto's suddenly mystifying behavior adds another layer of complexity to an already confusing inter-agency investigation. It would be so much easier to figure things out—and suppress your growing feelings—if only Shouto would stop being so strangely attentive to you... — estimated remaining wc: 5 chapters @ 2.5k each (12,500 words) — donated wc: 12,600/12,500 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 200/12,500 words

new wips (smutty one shots) — ˖˚˳⊹

title tbd : midoriya izuku x reader

When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. contents: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, fluff — estimated wc: 2,500 words — donated wc: 2,500/2,500 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 300/2,500 words

loads of fun : todoroki shouto x reader

After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he catches you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. contents: nsft, pro hero au, domesticity kink, gn + afab reader established relationship, fluff, emotional sex — estimated wc: 2,500 words — donated wc: 2,500/2,500 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 2,800/2,500 words completed!

filling in : bakugou katsuki x reader

A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent goes missing, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki. contents: thee classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar bakugou, soft dom bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush — estimated wc: 3,000 words — donated wc: 3,000/3,000 words fully sponsored! — progress tracker: 300/3,000 words

notes — ˖˚˳⊹

rate: $1 (USD) donation per 100 words, any extra would be sooo incredibly appreciated but obviously not at all required!

how it works (you): send me an ask with the wip you're donating towards and a screenshot of your donation to any fund from this list, a charity of your choice (please make sure it's verified), or my preferred one here! please do not send the same screenshot to multiple authors, and please make sure any personal information is scrubbed from your screenshot as i will be supplying @ficsforgaza with the proof of your donation!! i will aim to update the donated wc section of each wip in this post so there's not overlap in what people are donating for.

how it works (me): i will log my progress below each wip (the progress tracker section of each) & will commit to updating that count weekly. i will work in the rough order of donations received, by adding that number of words to each wip. this also means that for $5 i could add 500 words but not publish until the chapter or oneshot is completed, so please be aware of that!! my goal is to at least publish every single word people have donated for by end of year, but obviously things can happen & i will provide updates if anything gets in the way of that!

if you have any further questions please let me know!! i've never done something like this and it's very probable i've left something unclear lol.

lastly i'd like to thank you in advance for helping out if you can, but no worries if not! i also know times are tough and money is tight, and i'd encourage you to check out the other writers on @ficsforgaza's list of participants when published to see if you'd rather spend your money on one of their wips (or their custom requests!) before selecting mine!! the money goes towards a good cause either way.