#eardrum function

[presswoodterryryan]

The Magic of Hearing: Inside the Human Ear

By Alice Hi friends! It’s me, Alice, and today, Ariel, Mr. Fluffernutter, and I are going on our tiniest adventure yet! Imagine shrinking down to the size of a dust particle and exploring a hidden world that no one ever gets to see up close. That’s exactly what happened when we found ourselves miniaturized and taking a fantastic journey inside a human ear! As we began our adventure, we marveled…

[innalheid]

I s2g ever since that game changer episode kiss from a rose just magically appears in my head. constantly. I WOULD LIKE ANY OTHER SONG PLEASE

[doonthestair]

Addressing an emotion: loudest ever percussive music OR unpublished acoustic demos?

[lilybug-02]

Sam is catastrophizing.

Bug Fact: Their ears may be on their legs, but katydids hear a lot like humans do! Scientists have found fluid-filled vesicles resembling and functioning like eardrums.

V2 First || Prev // Next

Volume 2 Masterpost

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[stareiiez]

You're Mine, Now and Forever

notes: first actually long fic for this fandom, and its giving a slow start. don't worry! it gets better from here. also idk how I feel about this style of writing, it feels off. idk.

warnings: MINORS DNI.

words :3.3k

chapter two

You don't know how it happened, or how much time passed when the first scream ripped through the air and the first bloody body collided with your frantic driving on the express lane outta town. After all, it was just supposed to be like any other day, with you spending your time at work during a slow hour; organizing and reorganizing dresses for what felt like the nth time that hour just so you looked productive. Pop music filtered slowly through the store's speakers and you hummed to the few lines you knew of Chappel Roan's new hit song. The two customers milling around the clearance section chatted to another one of your coworkers across the store, and your manager was at the cash register, scrolling through logs of ordered clothing items to make sure they were in stock in the store's catalogs.

It was a boring day. A lunch break was the motivation for you to continue mindlessly nitpicking at full clothing racks when the first explosion shook the very building. The music stuttered glitching just to accompany the flickering overhead flourescent lights. Then another explosion follows soon after, a deep heavy boom that sinks into the soles of your shoes and rockets up your spinal cord to shake your back molars. Your mouth wants to open, to ask the obvious ' What the fuck was that?" out loud like every stereotypical blonde that questions the bloody scream they heard in the middle of the night in every 90's horror movie. But the chorus of screams and chaos answers your inner thoughts instead. Screams of fleeing citizens running away from whatever danger caused the very ground to shake, and smoke to plume into clouds upwards.

"Stay back, " your manager barks to you and three other women who cower together in a small huddle. She walks towards the still rattling glass doors of the store. A shared fear decorates your faces as you all watch with bated breath; the two sets of wide doors swing open, and your manager steps out into the chaotic mass of running bodies that swarm past her.

Horror paints her face when she sees the source of the destruction. Her head is tilted backward and jaw slack, her amber eyes the size of marbles, she's rooted to the spot. You're surprised she's not knocked off her small feet with every push and shove she endures. "Oh my god." Your ears strain, eyes focused on the way her mouth moves over each syllable with a slow, shocked pace. You're not blessed with reading lips, but you'd like to think that adrenaline fuels your brain enough to make out the word 'Invincible' before the ground shakes again.

This time, the destruction targets your building particularly. One second you're standing and the next, you're knocked on your ass washed away in a wave of shattered glass and minuscule pieces of asphalt and rubble that spray into your vicinity. The outside world, once muffled by plexiglass, screams with sirens, and people running for their lives berate your ringing eardrums. Your front doors are destroyed and buried under brick-and-mortar rubble. Severed limbs stick out this way and at odd angles from the tight crevices of drywall and insulation. The dust makes your eyes water, and you choke on a scream that squeezes your throat something fierce. You like to think you're not consumed by the panic and the trauma of watching your manager and several others get crushed to death in a matter of seconds because Mark has gone off the deep end.

"Come on!" Your coworker's words bark at you. Suddenly she's at your side, in your shocked haze, she managed to be the functioning one out of the rest of your group. Her hands grab onto your forearm and yank all your dead weight to your feet. "We need to leave! I don't want to die here!" Her free hand holds onto the sobbing customer, the other woman accompanying her is missing. Surely buried under the rubble that caved in one corner of the dress store, maybe she was one of the hands that was reaching out from the concrete bloody mess. The thought makes you want to stop and vomit, your stomach curdles with how much stress and adrenaline swarms through your body in nauseating waves.

You follow her, not like you had a choice, she's pulling your trio towards the back of the store and the emergency exit. Her breaths are ragged and half-sputtering between prayers to some god she believes in that your only exit isn't blocked off either. "Stay here, I need to get the keys in the office." Your coworker says, dropping both of your hands. Her face is an ashy pale gray when she turns to give both you and the other woman a once over, checking to see if you're all in one piece and able-bodied enough to book it once she gets the door open. You must look just like her, the expression of unrestrained fear and cement particles dusting your face. Small streaks of blood trickle down your temples and nose bridge, thanks to the shards of plexiglass that rained over you in the third explosion.

You nod, swallowing down acidic bile that bubbles at the back of your throat. Your eyes linger on her small back when she makes a mad dash to the small back office down the hall. When she disappears from your line of sight, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It makes you jump right out of your ashen grey skin. The woman beside you startles as well, her hand clutching at her heart. "Sorry," you manage to whisper, while your hands scramble to the right back pocket of your jeans to dig out your phone. The now cracked touch screen illuminates too brightly, shining a picture of you and Mark Grayson posed in a goofy pose. Your fingers poised in a 'peace' sign, while the male was peeking out from behind your shoulder with his two pointer fingers raised above either side of your head. Your twin smiles look so carefree in the saved contact picture you have of him.

Your thumb taps on the green answer button, and you raise the phone to your ear. Mark's out-of-breath panting sends chills down your spine in some sickly worrisome way. Your name barks through the speaker of the phone, the continuous screams make it almost hard to hear him. "Mark? Mark, what's going on? " You don't even question why the hell he's calling in the first place, isn't he the supposed one murdering and tearing down the city? Isn't that why the people screaming his superhero name saw him wreak havoc?

"No time! Please tell me you're safe. ." a pause, his ragged inhale makes your heart squeeze in time with your clammy palm gripping the phone tighter to your ear. "Please."

"I'm fine." You copy his pause, brows wrinkle in thought. You know you're lying, you're not fine. You're dazed and confused, shaking in your sleek shoes. Your legs are unsteady and becoming more and more unstable, the comedown from adrenaline is going to be a fickle bitch that'll do you in if whatever happening outside doesn't kill you first. "I'm still at work, I'm waiting for the door to get unlocked as fast as it can be."

Even through the grey background noise on the other side of the line, Mark's sigh crackles through the call. You could picture his shoulders just dropping the tiniest inch in relief, that a loved one of his hadn't been hurt or god forbid, even slaughtered mercilessly in the devastation that had been going on. "You need to get out of here." His voice urges, tensely.

"Mark-"

"I'm serious!" His tone jumps, he's barking. Halfway yelling, and you flinch. The woman at your side reacts by recoiling, both of your nerves bouncing off one another like electrons bouncing off the walls of an atom. "You need to get the fuck out of here, find a car-- any car. Don't even think about hiding, you need to drive as far as you can outta here. You hear me?"

You swallow dryly, fingers squeezing tighter. Blood rushes in your ears, you know you can't argue. There's no way to get information outta him now, not when his words are clipped, whatever is happening outside is far more important and drastic than arguing with his girlfriend who's too stubborn to flee for her life without asking stupid questions. You're smarter than that, and he knows it. He's lost far too many things, and gone through too many traumatizing situations than to waste time and not save the people he loves. Your eyes close briefly, counting to three in your whirling hellscape of a mind. You nod like he can even see you. You can sense it's different now. This isn't some closed-off fight between Nolan and his son that trying to stand up to him and not ' ready the Earth' for the viltrumites to come. This is far more scarier, it's drastic and life-shattering. "What about you? People are screaming Invincible is causing this."

"Don't worry about me." Mark says, his tone more gentle than before, "Just run, I can handle them and if anything happens to me? Just know I love you, okay?"

Your breath hitches. You hate how that sounds; you hate the confession on his lips. It sounds more like a goodbye than him admitting his affection for you like he does every day so casually. It feels heavier on your heart, it rattles your bones, and the tidal wave of curdling bile in your stomach roars into a tsunami. You need to vomit. You need to yell at Mark and tell him to not talk like that. You want to tell him that whatever is happening outside can be handled by the two of you together, even if you don't have any powers. Yet, before you can even voice any of those options over the phone, the call ends with a sharp click. You don't know tears are dotting your waterline till you blink so rapidly that a few salty drops cut trails down your ashy cheeks. Gray water stains the front of your shirt, and your phone lowers from your ear. Your grip is loose on the device.

"Got them!" Your coworker calls out, jogging back to you and the other woman; the jangling keys clenched tight in her fist. You don't know if it adds to the hurt your heart is already holding onto when she doesn't acknowledge the distraught on your face. She's more focused on jamming one of the silver keys in the keyhole and twisting it to the right, the satisfying click and rough opening of the door rings in your muffled ears.

The woman shoves past the two of you without hesitation, making a break for it as fast as her forty-five-year-old bones can carry her. She won't make it far, she barely would last surviving running around the bend of the building before the crowd of citizens tramples her half to death in their need to live another minute longer. Any man for themself is a fickle bitch. Your head turns to your coworker as you follow suit, breaking into a jog. She's already following behind, her pace a lot faster. "Stay safe." You call to her when she breezes past. Her silhouette disappears when she blends into the waves of people, fighting against the current so she can get to some sort of safety before she gets crushed to death herself. Her kindness, her stupid jokes, and her natural leadership are all you're going to have to remember her by; if you live long enough to even see her again.

You run a different path, following the makeshift alleyway that's half crumpled down and now smaller in size, your shoes threaten to trip on jutting-out stone and rebar when you traverse too fast. Your heart thuds faster in your chest, brain running a million miles an hour on how to keep yourself from running further and further away from the manic crowds. Alley water splashes at your ankles, sinks into your shoes, and makes your socks stick to your soles. You cringe inwardly, pumping your legs harder till you too start to run. The small alley breaks out into wide open space, and sunlight and smokey skies greet your frazzled complexion. Crashed cars and abandoned vehicles greet you immediately, some are still smoking and burning. Hot oil and melted rubber don't do anything to quell the queasiness you've been fighting this entire day, but there's no stopping now.

Now, you have to leave. No matter who Invincible knock-off is causing this; they'll be busy fighting off Mark and his team. You run along the cracked sidewalk, eyes sweeping over the conditions of the vehicles.

The lessening of people crying for help is eery, the whole city should be shouting from the tops of their lungs. It's like everyone got wiped out in a matter of seconds, or on a lighter note, they're all hiding and being as quiet as possible so they don't die next. You expected to see clogged highways and people running along the highways seeking freedom, instead, there are only deserted streets and cars tipped over on their sides that you brush past in your search for a ride.

Finally, you spot a buggy. A cute little Volkswagon with dents decorating its doors, and still running. Its engine is the loudest thing in the pin-drop silence, even compared to your sneakers pounding on the pavement. You know it's stupid to take the bait, that some conveniently placed car is here while you were in the middle of your search. You like to think you're better than the dumb female lead of a horror movie, that falls for every trick and ploy the killer lays out for her; but you're desperate. You need to fulfill Mark's wish, that you get the fuck out here and run as far as you can. The leather seat squeaks under your weight when you throw yourself inside the car and shut the door behind you. The car's radio crackles with dead static over its speakers, it sends chills up your spine and only adds to the apocalyptic atmosphere your once-busy city has been subjected to.

You're a walking target. The last survivor of your bug colony that trying to outrun the burning magnifying glass held above your head by some sadistic fucking toddler. The realistic side of things is, that you won't live to see the outskirts of the city before the Invincible knockoff crushes you and your car into smithereens. It'll be quick and painless, but you would hate to be another headstone in a graveyard that your family and Mark would have to visit. That's if they can separate your body from twisted metal and leather. With bated breath, you shift the car from park into drive and slam your foot down onto the gas. Clammy hands clench the wheel when you speed down the streets. You weren't prepped to see the mass destruction that greets you with every twist and turn you made. Bodies littered the streets, some in one piece, others most likely ripped into multiple pieces and scattered over the road and sidewalks. Collapsed buildings and homes make you swerve and splash puddles of oil and blood on the car's exterior. Your tires have run over a body part or more not to crash; the squish of flesh being flattened unnaturally is unmistakable in your ears.

"This is so fucked." You whisper under the roar of your pounding heartbeat. The city limit sign seems to grow closer and closer to you once you hit the wide-open highway. The drive through the rest of the city was thankfully quick, and you still were alive and unharmed. It's a miracle.

Your hope swells and stirs in the pit of your stomach like acid-covered butterflies, you're going to make it. You're going to make it! The delirious bubble of laughter peels from your parched throat, you can't help it. However, that laughter dies just as fast as it came. Just when you were going to pass that beloved city limit sign that seems just in arms reach now, your car hits the dark blue blur that launches itself in front of you. Your foot doesn't react quickly enough to hit the brake, but somehow you're violently stopped. Your chest hits the steering wheel, forehead threatening to follow suit if it wasn't for the seatbelt yanking you back just in time to save you from a concussion.

"Well, and who do we have here?" A male voice speaks out, way too calm for your own disorientated liking. "Hey pretty girl, didn't know if I'd see you again."

Again?!

You blink quickly, as a hand rubs at your bruising chest. In front of you, is . . Invincible. His color scheme is the same, black and blue, but he looks different. His ears stick out, and his hair is hidden away by his suit. His smile which you thought was charming and shy, is replaced with a sick stretched look. He bares all of his white teeth at you like a predator intimidating its prey. In your heart you know this isn't your Mark, it can't be. Not with the way he doesn't move a single centimeter of his body, he doesn't even look like he's breathing. The man is so quiet like he's waiting for you to freak out or scream, yet you disappoint him when you don't do either option. Boring, all you do is stare at him. Jaw slightly slacked, brain whirring a million microseconds a minute. His smile, however, doesn't waver. No, not at all; of course his pretty girl has always been smarter than any bimbo bitch that cried out when he flew through their bodies and ripped them to shreds in his hands.

It's what he loves- - no, it's what he was obsessed over back in his world. It was a shame you didn't last long in his care, and now it's like a higher being is rewarding him for his hard work here in your world to plant you in front of him so suddenly. He's glad the others didn't get to you first, who knows who he would have had to kill off his variants to get to you. He rounds to the side of the car so smoothly, your eyes watching his every step. A hand smacks down on the roof of the car, adding to the multitude of dents to its being. His other hand grips the handle of the driver's side door and pulls it off as easily as peeling off a sticker from its page.

He bends at the waist, his face invading your space far too close to your liking. He can smell the waves of fear and the new spike of adrenaline leaking from every pore of your body. Your natural scent mixed in is an addicting concoction that he never seemed to get enough of, you smell the same. You look just like the one in his home world. He hit the jackpot. You flinch at his movements, leaning far back in your car seat.

"Who are you?" Fuck you sound just like her. Your voice exhales so quietly, warmed breath fanning over the lower part of his face. Delicious.

The Invincible doesn't respond, doesn't even emote as much as that smile you start to grow unnerved of. It's unnatural, just like this entire day. Just like you don't know what the fuck even happened to get you to where you are now, staring in the face of a clone of your beloved Invincible.

[anantaru]

two new characters of hsr were confirmed. Aventurine and Gallagher one-night stand?? LIKE??

including. aventurine, gallagher

synopsis. having a one-night stand

cw. [ex]plicit, reader wears a dress, strangers to lovers, semi public (outside the bar, gallagher's part), fingering, car syx, dirty talk, gallagher smells like alcohol but he is not drunk okay he just smells like it HAHA, fem! reader

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + one night stand in the car

hot exhales of air hit your glossed lips, and those erratic movements of your hips, all adjoined to your skimpy dress sticking to your body— you do not think, do not form any thoughts, you only leave it to the lust to guide your figure as you straddle the hips of a stranger.

your lips bruised, thoroughly bitten when aventurine captures them with his heated tongue— he laps across it while grabbing a fistful of your ass to rub you against his erection, practically dragging the moans off the tip of your tongue.

his name, you've never really heard it before yet when you two coincidentally met, it's like he knew exactly what to say in order to have you wrapped around his finger.

and before you knew it, you ended up in the back of his car, driven by desire to taste the handsome stranger with everything you've got. "kinda crowded in here, ugh... whatever, come here," he smirks at you, devilishly, as his hands hold your hips dear and push you closer. you're too aroused to even function properly anymore, both loving and hating the anticipation of almost reaching your climax as the candid scent of his cologne made your mouth water. you grip at his shoulders as his fast rhythm sets in, your heart beat rising when he bottoms out to fuck your cunt faster.

"oh, fuck…" he grits his teeth when you shudder tight on top of him now, rutting your swollen pussy into his cock as moan a slides up through your throat, "i need to keep you just like that," he boldly rasps into your ear, low and urgent with a smirk almost too candid, almost too pure, contradicting his hungry movements, "keep you like this, yeah? hot and desperate and gorgeous until, until… until…"

it's the perfect amount of speed, pressure and thickness, aventurine fucks you like he's known you for years, and his lips taste so poetic, softly licking at them just wasn't doing it. he personally got fond of the joyful lightness that's in your eyes, or the slightest tingling from the exhales of your moans hitting his eardrums as he finds himself becoming addicted to a stranger.

his eyelashes flutter at your heavenly tunes as he looks down between the mess you've made— your arousal melting into shaft as the air gets filled with that of sinful scents, immediately sending sparks of deep enchant through the entirety of your spine.

— ꒰ GALLAGHER ꒱ + one night stand outside the bar

there's no one else on this side of the alley, and the only clatters and chit-chats you could notice were shrill, outside yells and slurred talks coming from drunk people standing outside the bar— yet again, from this particular place, you were alone in the cold night with the pulse of your heightened heartbeat washing over you.

gallagher, the name of the stranger who weirdly enough, took his time to discover your secret places and memorize your curves. the man couldn't possibly stop sliding his warm palms over your skin before covering your chest, it's futile, tickling your collarbones, watching you whine, then trailing his fingers along your neck, looking at how you're swallowing down the budding saliva on your tongue.

he exhales through his parted mouth as you take in the scent of cheap alcohol, wanting nothing more than his big, strong hands to keep touching you like that all night long.

he continues to stroke the planes of your face, marvelling in the gentleness of your features, before ultimately rounding up his inspection to your arms— yes, indeed, he's certain he memorized you entirely, giving you a little hum of appreciation as your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close.

gallagher captures your lips in a melting heat of passion as you lean back against the cold wall, closing your eyes to be carried along by the sensual moments of his traces guiding you.

his large hands on your hips made you shiver— you do not know the man yet they feel so good, they promise yet conceal so much. the loudness of people outside too— or the penetrating talks as you've been hidden behind a wall of golden lust, concealed by an even bigger body towering over you.

it made this situation so much more filthier, hotter and send waves of pleasure to overwhelm you.

the coldness of the wall left an impression on you, a cold hug that was ultimately cancelled by gallagher's warm hands messily pushing your dress up to find your soaked panties.

he doesn't waste more time before he presses two fingers against your clothed folds, slowly getting there. you're moving as one, and the laps of his tongue on your lips were thick like molasses, always licking his pink muscle over your own before reaching down to pull the drenched panties aside, his raw digits now hovering over your hole.

by no means was this something you'd normally do, just hook up with a random stranger— it was altogether too quick, to unpersonal yet somehow this particular night, it was stronger in its pleasure and heat than you've ever known it before.

you open your legs a little to invite him as the muscles in his arms bunch under his skin when he fingers you with two thick digits curled deep inside— although shockingly enough, he's tender and gentle with you, which came as a surprise, testing the waters on your pussy as he scissors your hole and teases your walls with his fingertips.

"that feels good?" gallagher questions whilst watching in awe how you ride his hand for him, the rough pads of his digits pulling the breath out of you as your body tingles and arches into his chest, "yeah.. that's s-so good," you close your eyes, both breathing hard— yet in truth, it was already easy for you to discern a big smile on his face, one of being greatly pleased by your answer while the man was marveling at the smoothness and the lovely muscles of your hole twitching around him.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[eccentricallygothic]

Husband!Robb ‘The Wolf’ Stark | Wife!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, husband Robb Stark, fear kink, power imbalance, doggy style, rough sex, spanking, biting, mirror sex, mention of edging, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

“Is it true?” You were tinkering with some medicinal herbs when the children approached you before they crowded around you. You looked up from what you were doing, and then silently raised an eyebrow in question. “That your husband can turn into a wolf at night?” Your breath ceased for a couple moments, heat coursed through your veins and your consciousness drifted into a series of recollections. 

So many times, so many moments, so many nights. 

Different positions, various spots all over the estate and a myopic vision that you owed to the tears that would stain your face. 

And through that barely functional vision images of your parted panting mouth, bent and flush knees, pulled back head -due to the way your hair wrapped around the pale fingers of your eternal ravisher-, neck and breasts painted in purple fang marks, nipples inflamed from how they had been treated, buttocks covered in handprints and arms compliantly folded on the small of your back. Your form pushing face first into the mattress with breath stifling force before being pulled back with a limb tearing strength in such a rapid unceasing cycle that it caused for the brutish violator bent atop you to appear inhuman as he used you in his monstrous way that you could see through the body size mirror placed on the wall in front of your bed. 

Realization seeped through your brain cells. 

Man.

Man-Wolf.

Wolf-Man.

Wolf. 

The dark mop of messed up curls that graced your dear husband and cruel defiler's head was amess as the loose damp strands flew about, his nose flared to help with his panting, chiseled features stern under the dark coarse hairs of his manly beard, beastly muscles tense as he effortlessly held your submissive figure bent to his pleasure with one hand, the other holding one of your compliant legs up in the air in an obtuse angle, his skin covered in a shadowy brown vell in such a way that your opening that his cock had stretched open nearly to the size of a woman's in labor clenched around the man-creature's monstrous girth. The deafening sound of skin colliding against skin was on the verge of marring your eardrums, his piercing dark blue eyes watching you through the mirror all the while.

They watched you even now from across the room where your dear husband and Lord sat telling the stories of his recent expedition to everyone willing.

There were always hundreds if not thousands of those.

Words didn't always require a necessary exchange between the two of you.

Your cheeks threatened to bubble up from the heat compressing itself underneath them. Your fingers had ceased from crushing the herbs between the mortar and pestle long ago. A hot drop of meek arousal sizzled past your covered opening -which blinked in response- and coursed down the insides of your thighs. Your breath hitched as you laboriously swallowed and licked your lips. 

“Mhm” was all you could let out in your shy state that he had influenced with a mere stare. You looked up at the children before you proceeded to nod your head politely so as to not stir the sanctity of your Lord's presence with too harsh a gesture. The children gasped and whimpered before scurrying off, too young and afraid to say it out loud but in their naive minds extremely terrified for your wellbeing. 

The longer you felt The Wolf staring at you the more you sensed yourself sharing the sentiments of the young ones. 

You bit your lip and dared not look up from your work. 

Because you were always tortured cruelly before your taking solely for the purpose of His Lordship's amusement if the eagerness in your eyes was too visible.

And it was always embarrassingly visible.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Lissamphibia - Anura

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Order: Anura

Common Name: “frogs”

Families: 54 - Ascaphidae (“tailed frogs”), Bombinatoridae (“flat-headed frogs” and “firebelly toads”), Alytidae (“painted frogs”), Leiopelmatidae (“New Zealand primitive frogs”), Megophryidae (“goose frogs”), Pelobatidae (“European spadefoot toads”), Pelodytidae (“parsley frogs”), Pipidae (Pipid frogs), Rhinophrynidae (“Mexican burrowing toads”), Scaphiopodidae (“American spadefoot toads”), Heleophrynidae (“ghost frogs”), Allophrynidae (“Tukeit Hill frogs”), Alsodidae, Batrachylidae, Bufonidae (“true toads”), Brachycephalidae (“saddleback toads”), Caligophrynidae, Ceuthomantidae (“emerald-barred frogs”), Craugastoridae (“fleshbelly frogs”), Eleutherodactylidae (“rain frogs”), Neblinaphrynidae, Strabomantidae (“cloud forest landfrogs”), Centrolenidae (“glass frogs”), Ceratophryidae (“common horned frogs”), Cycloramphidae, Dendrobatidae (“poison dart frogs”), Aromobatidae (“cryptic forest frogs”), Hemiphractidae, Hylidae (“tree frogs” and kin), Hylodidae (“giant Neotropical torrent frogs”), Leptodactylidae (“southern frogs”), Odontophrynidae, Rhinodermatidae (“Darwin’s frogs”), Telmatobiidae, Calyptocephalellidae, Limnodynastidae (“Australian ground frogs”), Myobatrachidae (“Australian water frogs”), Nasikabatrachidae (“purple frogs”), Sooglossidae (“Seychelles frogs”), Arthroleptidae (“African tree frogs”), Ceratobatrachidae, Conrauidae (“slippery frogs”), Dicroglossidae (“fork-tongued frogs”), Hyperoliidae (“sedge frogs”), Microhylidae (“narrow-mouthed frogs”), Micrixalidae (“dancing frogs”), Nyctibatrachidae (“robust frogs”), Petropedetidae (“African torrent frogs”), Phrynobatrachidae (“puddle frogs”), Ptychadenidae (“grassland frogs”), Pyxicephalidae, Ranidae (“true frogs”), Ranixalidae (“leaping frogs”), and Rhacophoridae (“shrub frogs”)

Anatomy: metamorphosis from tailed, gilled, aquatic “tadpole” larvae; adults have no tail; longer hindlimbs than forelimbs; elongated ankle bones; webbed toes; large eyes; adhesive tongues; no external ears, eardrums are either exposed or covered by a skin membrane; smooth or “warty” skin which has a respiratory function and most can absorb water; most species can exude distasteful and toxic substances, as well as secretions to keep the skin moist

Diet: invertebrates and small vertebrates

Habitat/Range: every continent except Antarctica, with greatest diversity in tropical areas; most frogs require humid or damp environments, though some are adapted to survive in arid or cold habitats

Evolved in: Early Jurassic

Propaganda under the cut:

Frog tongues are covered in a two-phase viscoelastic fluid. When exposed to pressure, like when the tongue is wrapping around prey, their saliva becomes runny and covers the prey's body. As the pressure drops, it returns to a thick and elastic state, which gives the tongue an extra grip. Their tongue can be shot out and retracted at great speed, but is not as long as cartoons make it out to be, and is generally about 1/3 the length of the frog’s body, depending on species. Some frogs have no tongue and just stuff food into their mouths with their hands.

Frog eyes are situated on the very top of the animals’ head, and provide binocular vision over a field of 100° to the front and a total visual field of almost 360°. The distant vision of a frog is better than its near vision. Calling frogs will quickly become silent when they see an intruder or even a moving shadow but the closer an object is, the less clearly it is seen. They can also see in colour, even in very low light.

The call or croak of a frog is unique to its species. Frogs create this sound by passing air through the larynx in the throat. In most calling frogs, the sound is amplified by one or more vocal sacs, membranes of skin under the throat or on the corner of the mouth, that distend during the amplification of the call. Some frog calls are so loud that they can be heard up to a mile (1.6 km) away. Additionally, some species have been found to use man-made structures such as drain pipes for artificial amplification of their call. The main function of calling is for male frogs to attract mates. Males may call individually or there may be a chorus of sound where numerous males have converged on breeding sites. Female frogs prefer males that produce sounds of greater intensity and lower frequency, attributes that stand out in a crowd. There are other calls given by unreceptive frogs who have been mounted, calls before a rain, territorial calls meant to drive away other males, and distress calls meant to surprise or disorient an attacker.

Frogs do most of their breathing through their skin, and are able to survive without lungs. The fully aquatic Bornean Flat-headed Frog (Barbourula kalimantanensis) is the first frog known to lack lungs entirely.

Only members of the family Bufonidae are considered "true toads", but “toad” is also generally used for frog species that are terrestrial with dry, warty skin. There are numerous exceptions to this rule. The European Fire-bellied Toad (Bombina bombina) has a slightly warty skin and prefers a watery habitat, whereas the Panamanian Golden Frog (Atelopus zeteki) is in the toad family Bufonidae and has smooth skin.

The Panamanian Golden Frog is critically endangered, and most likely extinct in the wild since 2007. It was filmed for the last time in the wild in 2006 by the BBC Natural History Unit for the series Life in Cold Blood by David Attenborough, with the location of filming kept secret to protect the toads from potential poachers. The two distinct populations of the toad can now only be found in captivity, under a dedicated captive breeding program. They were nearly wiped out mainly due to the introduction of chytridiomycosis. As nothing seems to be able to control or stop the spread of chytrid, the current hope is to breed frogs that are more resilient and resistant to the fungal disease.

Chytridiomycosis is an infectious disease in amphibians, caused by the chytrid fungi Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis and Batrachochytrium salamandrivorans. It has been linked to dramatic population declines and extinctions of amphibian species in western North America, Central America, South America, eastern Australia, Tanzania, Dominica, and Montserrat. Much of the New World is at risk of the disease arriving within the coming years. It is thought to have been introduced or at least spread by imported African Clawed Frogs (Xenopus laevis) which are immune to the disease, and were once used for human pregnancy testing and thus traded in large amounts. The fungus affects the skin of amphibians, which is disastrous for animals which take in water and oxygen through their skin. As the fungus can multiply from one single microscopic spore in a water source, no effective measure is known for control of the disease in wild populations.

The colour of a frog's skin is used for thermoregulation. In cool damp conditions, the colour will be darker than on a hot dry day. The Grey Foam-nest Tree Frog (Chiromantis xerampelina) is even able to turn white to minimise the chance of overheating.

The male Hairy Frog (Trichobatrachus robustus) has dermal papillae projecting from its lower back and thighs, giving it a bristly, hairy appearance. These contain blood vessels and are thought to increase the area of the skin available for respiration. This is particularly useful for the males, as they stay with and guard their eggs until the tadpoles emerge.

Some poison frogs carry their young to place in individual water-filled bromeliads, periodically returning to each individual tadpole to deposit unfertilized eggs for them to eat. Male Darwin Frogs (Rhinoderma darwinii) carry their young in their vocal sac, keeping them safe from predators. Suriname Toads (Pipa pipa) incubate their eggs in pits on their back (if you have trypophobia you probably already know about this, but if not, don’t look it up).

The Pacific Tree Frog (Pseudacris regilla) is the only frog known to produce the onomatopoeic "ribbit" often heard in films.

During extreme conditions, some frogs enter a state of torpor and remain inactive for months. In colder regions, many species of frog hibernate in winter. Some frogs such as the Wood Frog (Lithobates sylvaticus), Moor Frog (Rana arvalis), and Spring Peeper (Pseudacris crucifer) can even survive being frozen. Ice crystals form under the skin and in the body cavity but the essential organs are protected from freezing by a high concentration of glucose. An apparently lifeless, frozen frog can resume respiration and its heartbeat can restart when conditions warm up.

The Striped Burrowing Frog (Cyclorana alboguttata) regularly aestivates during the hot, dry season in Australia, surviving in a dormant state without access to food and water for nine to ten months of the year. It burrows underground and curls up inside a protective cocoon formed by its shed skin.

The Striped Rocket Frog (Litoria nasuta) can leap over two metres (6.5 feet), a distance that is more than fifty times its body length of 55 mm (2.25 in).

The tiny Northern Cricket Frog (Acris crepitans) can "skip" across the surface of a pond with a series of short rapid jumps.

The smallest amphibian, and vertebrate, in the world is the Brazilian Flea Toad (Brachycephalus pulex) (image 2), at 8–8.4 mm long from snout to vent. Brachycephalus species (called “Saddleback Toads”) are so tiny that their vestibular systems are too small for dependable locomotion, and their balance is lost mid-air when jumping.

The Red-legged Running Frog (Kassina maculata) has short, slim hind limbs unsuitable for jumping. It can move fast by using a running gait in which the two hind legs are used alternately. Slow-motion photography shows, unlike a horse that can trot or gallop, the frog's gait remains similar at slow, medium, and fast speeds.

The Purple Frog (Nasikabatrachus sahyadrensis) from southern India feeds on termites and spends almost its whole life underground, emerging only briefly during the monsoon to mate and breed in temporary pools.

Tree frogs are very acrobatic and can catch insects while hanging by one toe from a twig or clutching onto the blade of a reed.

Some frogs in tropical rainforests are specially adapted for gliding from tree to tree or parachuting to the forest floor. One example is Wallace's Flying Frog (Rhacophorus nigropalmatus) from Malaysia and Borneo. It has large feet with the fingertips expanded into flat adhesive discs and the digits fully webbed. Flaps of skin occur on the lateral margins of the limbs and across the tail region. With the digits splayed, the limbs outstretched, and these flaps spread, it can glide considerable distances, though it is unable to take powered flight. It can alter its direction of travel and navigate distances of up to 15 m (50 ft) between trees.

Almost all frogs are poisonous, but their poisons vary. The chemicals involved may be irritants, hallucinogens, convulsants, nerve poisons or vasoconstrictors. Some frogs obtain poisons from the ants and other arthropods they eat, while others can synthesize the chemicals themselves. Some non-poisonous frogs mimic the coloration of poisonous species.

Exudations from the skin of the Golden Poison Frog (Phyllobates terribilis) are traditionally used by native Colombians to poison the darts they use for hunting. The tip of the projectile is rubbed over the back of the frog and the dart is launched from a blowgun. Two other species, the Kokoe Poison Dart Frog (Phyllobates aurotaenia) and the Black-legged Dart Frog (Phyllobates bicolor) are also used for this purpose, though they are less toxic and less abundant than the Golden Poison Frog.

The alkaloid epibatidine, a painkiller 200 times more potent than morphine, is made by some species of poison dart frogs. Other chemicals isolated from the skins of frogs may offer resistance to HIV infection. Dart poisons are under active investigation for their potential as therapeutic drugs.

Illicit drug use by licking the skin of the Colorado River Toad (Incilius alvarius) has been reported in the media, but this may be an urban myth. Typically, the skin secretions are dried and then smoked.

The Han people of China depict a legendary bullfrog, Jin Chan, sitting on a pile of traditional Chinese cash, with a coin in its mouth. According to feng shui beliefs, a Jin Chan charm helps attract and protect wealth, and guards against bad luck. The ancient Egyptians depicted the god Heqet, protector of newborns, with the head of a frog. For the Mayans, frogs represented water, crops, fertility and birth and were associated with the god Chaac.

The Mountain Chicken (Leptodactylus fallax), a frog so named because of its taste, is now critically endangered in part due to human consumption, as well as habitat loss and chytridiomycosis.

Frog populations have declined dramatically since the 1950s. More than 1/3 of frog species are considered to be threatened with extinction, and more than 120 species have become extinct since the 1980s. As all frogs depend on water to survive, habitat loss and pollutants are a significant cause of frog population decline. Other causes are heavy traffic in their environments, increased UVB radiation, the introduction of invasive species, and infectious diseases, such as ranovirus and the aforementioned chytridiomycosis. Environmental scientists believe amphibians, including frogs, are good biological indicators of broader ecosystem health because of their intermediate positions in food chains. The frogs are the “canaries in the coal mine”, and their decline is a signal of possible ecosystem collapse.

[presswoodterryryan]

The Magic of Hearing: Inside the Human Ear

By Alice Hi friends! It’s me, Alice, and today, Ariel, Mr. Fluffernutter, and I are going on our tiniest adventure yet! Imagine shrinking down to the size of a dust particle and exploring a hidden world that no one ever gets to see up close. That’s exactly what happened when we found ourselves miniaturized and taking a fantastic journey inside a human ear! As we began our adventure, we marveled…

[imagine-darksiders]

Angel of Highway 49

Chapter 7 - Guardian Angels.

Summary: You're not the selfless type, but life-or-death is a rare state to be in, and might even draw out your true colours. Optimus won't soon forget it.

Tags: Optimus&Reader, Cave-in, Missile, Explosions, Threat to children, Hurt, Whump, Protective characters, Fear of death, size-difference.

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Perhaps if you had made the effort to run this fast as a child, you’d have been granted that scholarship your parents were always wittering on about.

Then again, until today, you had no idea that it was even possible to heave your body onwards so quickly, and if it weren’t for the cumbersome wellies weighing you down, and the drag of two children being wrenched along in your wake, you’re half convinced you could break some sort of speed record.

The threat of death, evidently, is one Hell of a motivator.

As it is, there isn’t a thought in your head except for ‘run.’ There isn’t a sound in your ears beyond your own ragged, desperate gasps for breath and the tinnitus screaming to a staggering crescendo between them. Everything else is muffled, deemed unimportant by the rest of your biological functions that are urging you to focus on nothing except for keeping one foot flying out ahead of the other.

A muddled cacophony of noise is buzzing against your eardrums like furious wasps. Voices, indiscernible in your confusion, all clamouring over each other. You think one of them must be Miko’s, high and startled, but with her skinny wrist still trapped in your vice-like grip, she has no choice but to hurtle along in your footsteps.

You haven’t even noticed that she’s trying to put up a feeble resistance, scuffing her boots in the dust in an attempt to slow you down. But her effort pales beneath the strength you’ve been lent by your own adrenaline.

In your other hand, you’re towing Rafael behind you like a very disheartened kite, his sneakers flying over the ground as his vastly shorter legs pump furiously just to stay upright.

And finally, from the corner of your eye, you can see Jack’s mop of jet-black hair bobbing along on your right flank, barely keeping pace. His gaze is fixed forwards, jaw set nervously as you charge hell-for-leather at the entrance to the tunnel you’d come in by.

What had once seemed so reminiscent of a hungry, gaping maw stretched open to swallow you whole is now a shining beacon of hope, a pathway to salvation, even if that salvation leads to a crotchety old farmer on the other end of a shotgun.

Deep in the back of your head, there’s a mantra echoing over and over again, repeating its broken notion as your boots stir up clouds of dust from the cavern floor.

If you can just make it to the tunnel… If you can just clear that corner, it’ll be okay. You only have to keep going.

Keep running. Keep running. Running. Run. 

You don’t comprehend, at first, why the air is so suddenly rent asunder by a startling ‘hsssss!’ as of some, immense snake breaking through your muffled hearing and alerting you to a danger you haven’t yet seen.

It’s all the warning you get before a streak of silver screams over your head.

Eyes bulging, you sweep your gaze up just in time to spot the slender object as it hurtles towards the tunnel ahead, a fire blazing hotly under its tail.

You’d know the look of that missile anywhere. It’s the same one that had, until mere seconds ago, been sitting on the arm of the sleek, silvery giant.

There’s no time to think. There's barely enough to act.

Like a pair of lead weights, your heels suddenly come down on the path hard, burying themselves into the dust to fight back against your forward momentum.

Somewhere far behind you, yet not far enough at all, thunders a voice with enough power at its back to bring a mountain to its knees.

“NO!”

Fuelled by a concoction of privily untapped terror and the most baseline instinct to turn your back on impending doom, you let go of the children’s wrists in favour of whirling towards them instead, while at the same time throwing out an arm to catch Jack around his scrawny waist.

He hits your outstretched limb just as Miko and Rafael crash into your torso with two sickening crunches.

But any indignation they might have voiced about the rough treatment is forgotten the moment you wrench Jack in front of you, throw your arms around the trio and duck your head so violently that your chin knocks against someone’s-

B O O M !

You don’t even get the chance to scream.

As soundly as a slug to your gut, all the air is torn from your lungs in the time it takes to blink an eye. The world around you, above you, below you, and beside you is rocked violently on its axis as the missile makes contact with the wall just inside the tunnel entrance.

Agony punches out your eardrums as you’re launched forwards off your feet.

The explosion sends you crashing to the ground over the children, and a blast of suffocating heat sweeps across your body from toe to skull, singeing the fine hairs on the base of your neck and licking at your bare shoulders. Along with the wave of hot air comes a hailstorm of tiny, hard projectiles, rock that’s been blasted apart by the impact and drums at your body like a thousand stinging insects.

For a split second, you couldn’t say with any confidence whether you’re dead or alive. Then the hot, burning pain on your shoulder registers, and your wonderings are put to rest.

If you’d been any closer, you might’ve…

You think you scream then, though most of the sound beyond your own head is muffled and suppressed, and your vision swims as if you’ve been plunged underwater, making it very hard to keep your eyes open. But somebody certainly shouts, in a low yet booming voice that’s almost loud enough to cut straight above the discordant rumbling of a mine’s structure falling to pieces around you,

“-BRIDGE!” it hollers, “RIGHT NOW, DOC!”

You didn’t catch the preceding words.

Things have started to move, like you’re sitting right above the epicentre of an earthquake, but it’s the bodies squirming below you that coax you from your daze.

“Guh! Sh-… unf!” Sluggish and senseless, you brace your forearms against the ground and use what little strength you still have to shove yourself awkwardly onto your side, rolling your weight off the kids and wrenching your eyes open.

It’s darker than it was. Much darker. Dust chokes the air around you, blotting out the light cast by those strange crystals. It’s sucked into your lungs when you take a shallow breath only to near-enough suffocate on the fine particles of grit that try to come down with it.

Sputtering, you feel your stomach clench. Each hacking cough jolts your diaphragm, but at least the noise of your own struggle grows clearer and clearer as the ringing in your ears begins to recede, leaving an uncomfortable ache between them.

As if in a drunken stupor, you blink one eye first, then the other, squinting through the mire to see that Jack, Miko and Rafael are already helping one another to their feet, their motions blurred surreally, but even as addled as you are, you know that if they’re moving, they’re still alive.

Good.

If there is relief to be found however, it doesn’t last nearly as long as it should, because from out of the gloom, a pair of dazzling lights sear into existence, and a monstrous shape moves through the murk towards the kids like a shark through silt, swelling larger as it nears.

And then, the lights turn, veering sharply to the left and out of your eyes as the hair-raising squeal of rubber tyres brings the silhouette to a halt just beside Miko, flinging up dust and stones in its wake.

You have to blink several times to dispel the negative blots seared in your retinas.  

It’s… a truck. A juggernaut on four, heavy-duty wheels. Painted a shade of familiar… military-green.

A pair of neurons connect in your brain with a ‘zap’ and -“No way,” you croak.

Helplessly, you watch the vehicle’s back door pop open, and as you peer inside to catch the hand that must have pushed it open, your blood freezes solid, like hoarfrost forming along your veins.

Empty.

The truck houses no visible person, no face that might debunk the impossible conclusion you’re beginning to draw. Nothing but leather seats and a dark interior that sits devoid of another human being.

‘Would it reassure you to know that this vehicle is operated remotely?’

You clench your teeth, shrinking away from Optimus’s voice as it rises uninvited in the back of your mind.

The residual heat from the explosion is forgotten entirely to make room for the chill that sweeps up your spine instead.

And yet, with a fearlessness you’ll come to envy, Miko is already leaping through the open door and into the truck proper before twisting about to grab Rafael’s shirt, yanking the boy inside after her. They fall in a tangle of limbs across the back seats just as a rock the size of your fist comes crashing to the ground where they’d stood.

“W-wai-“ Reedy, weak, you can’t be heard over a resounding ‘crack’ that splits the cavern’s atmosphere in two.

Jack though, you soon surmise, had either heard you, or spotted you because he’s suddenly crouched down in front of your face, his pupils shrunk tiny in palpable alarm.

“C’mon! We gotta move!” he urges as he grabs at your arm and heaves your torso off the ground in a way that strains the bruise on your shoulder and leaves you gasping deliriously, “Get up! This whole place is coming down!”

And as if to punctuate his point, another rock, this one larger than your head, slams into the dirt just inches to your left. The suddenness plucks at your red-raw nerves and propels you up onto your feet with a shriek, finding clarity in panic.

“You two! Get in! NOW!” a raucous voice urges, belonging neither to the children, nor to yourself, and originating entirely from the grill of the vast, green truck.

Your tongue sticks fast to your palette. Every muscle in your body solidifies when Jack’s grasp on your forearm goes taut and, to your absolute horror, he begins trying to drag you towards the still open door of the vehicle, his trainers skidding awkwardly over the ground.

He may as well be trying to move a brick wall.

So potent is the ice in your blood and the terror dulling your senses that something deep inside you has weighed up the risk of approaching these titans against the risk of staying in a collapsing mine, and whatever it is finds that you’d rather face the latter.

Better the Devil you know, and all that…

“Jack! Hurry!” Miko urges him from the open door, slapping her palm on the headrest in front of her.

Grunting with effort, he screws up his face and promptly throws his weight backwards, nearly yanking your arm out of its socket.

The sudden jolt is enough to give you a start.

It’s safe to say you aren’t exactly thinking clearly, perhaps that’s why you wrench your arm from Jack’s sweaty palms so viciously, his blunted nails leave long, angry stripes down the length of your skin.

But the scuffs are barely a blip on your radar.

You’re too busy staggering backwards with your eyes fixed blearily on the massive truck, as if it’s a predator poised to pounce on you should you find the nerve to blink. It’s wrong, that truck. You just can’t fathom why the children have jumped inside it so readily, despite the cavern collapsing to ruin all around you.

“Get…” you start, croaking on the first syllable and swallowing dryly to try again, “Get out of there!”

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Jack takes a hurried step towards you.

“Jack.”

A monstrous rumble fills the mine, almost as deep as the reverberations themselves as the walls begin to split and the ceiling bows ever inwards.

“Go with the others, through the Ground bridge. Now.”

Urgent without being loud. Authoritative.

Horribly, awfully familiar…

Without warning, a monumental leg comes sweeping over the truck and lands next to the boy, nearly staggering him when it comes crashing to the ground at his side.

For a split second, you’re convinced that a particularly strange stalactite has fallen from the roof.

Tossing a rapid glance between you and the green truck, Jack shouts to be heard over the cacophony of noise, “But, what about-!?”

“Go.”

The boy’s jaw snaps shut as though he’s been scolded, and he spares you one last look, his mouth little more than a tight, reluctant line. Then at last, he blurts out a sound of frustration and spins on his heel, diving straight into the truck and almost landing squarely on Miko.

The heavy, green door has barely slammed shut behind the soles of his trainers before its tyres start to spin, madly gaining traction and peeling away from you as another half-dozen rocks plummet down to bounce off the metal roof with a series of ‘dings’ and ‘clangs.’

Grit and dust and stone is churned up into an even thicker cloud when the truck hares off across the disintegrating cavern, leaving you to face what’s to come by yourself, without even the children here to display your backbone for.

Paralysed, you stare through your tears after the blood-red lights as they fade away into the vapour, distantly aware that one of your arms is reaching out, whether to call them back or beg to be taken with them, you couldn’t rightly say.

The tunnel behind you that had promised escape is now choked with rock, the first route to fail after the missile’s impact.

And ahead of you stands a titanic leg – two legs, now that you look again - obscuring half of your vision, and you don’t dare raise your head to meet the very gaze you can feel boring into your skull like a drill.

There’s nowhere to run.

There’s nowhere to hide.

You’re out of ideas, options, and hope.

Trapped.

It’s a sickening feeling.

Evidently, the giant isn’t content to wait for you to look up.

The infinite pillars of metal bend outwards like knees, two towers of grey and black metal, interspaced by panels of cobalt blue that gleam too brightly in the darkness.

All around you, the Earth heaves a thunderous groan which is followed closely by another ‘crack!’ that rattles the teeth in your gums.

But through it all, through the roar of a cave-in and the shifting of several thousand tonnes of rock, you can still hear a voice from on high as it speaks to you, enveloping your chest in the force of its timbre.

“Do not be afraid…”

A spectacular idea in theory. In practice however…

For one insane, petrifying moment, you wonder if you’re about to see the face of God.

Stumbling another few steps away, you let out a sudden yelp when the heel of your boot catches on a large rock and you’re sent toppling over onto your backside, catching yourself on your palms and inadvertently looking up.

But it couldn't be God. Because you know that voice, the gentle resonance that hums through you from the tips of your fingers to the soles of your feet, as powerful as it is contrastingly placid, not unlike a tranquil brook that hides the most turbulent, treacherous vortexes under its surface.

Bent in half like the joint of a human’s leg, the metal limb hits the ground just a few feet away from where you fell, yet the shudder that rolls through the earth goes unnoticed. You’re too transfixed by the cerulean lights hovering over you in the darkness, twin stars standing side by side in a silver sky.

Your tongue tears itself from the roof of your mouth like stripped Velcro, and a single breath sneaks in past your quivering lips, filling each lung with just enough air that you can utter one, pivotal word.

“…. Optimus?”

The name leaves you in a strained whisper, but it couldn’t ring more loudly in the space between you and the metallic titan, whose strange, blue lights seem to grow inexplicably brighter at your utterance.

No sooner has the word left your mouth however than your brain immediately and vehemently tries to reject the very idea, deeming it far too absurd to possibly be true. It can’t be true. Optimus is just a disembodied voice who drives a truck, which is far more plausible than… whatever this thing is.

The cavern above you suddenly lets out another furious roar as the crack in the ceiling lances several metres straight across its width.

And still you remain stuck fast, gaping uselessly up into the lights that have you pinned like a wolf pins a lamb by its neck.

Leaden arms tremble and threaten to buckle under your own weight, yet they stay locked in place, even when you give them an unenthusiastic twitch. Belatedly, you start to wonder what’ll kill you first; The cave-in, the robot, or a goddamn heart-attack.

Motion. Too close for comfort.

Your eyes wrench themselves from the silvery face and snap down to a massive object near your left flank...

You almost swallow your tongue when you let out a sharp gasp, realising what it is.

A hand. A hulking, obsidian hand – half obscured by the dust – had been inching towards you, still is in fact. Five segments of welded metal stretch from a solid palm, each almost as long as you are tall. ‘Fingers!’ you realise with an awful lurch in your stomach.

It means to grab you.

That thought alone is enough to unlock each of your limbs, and you lurch away from the reaching appendage, belting out a howl of terror -

Which lasts for all of a second before the giant opens its ‘mouth’ and speaks.

“Y/n.”

It hits you like a punch to the chest, far rougher than the knock you received after taking a tumble from Tom’s back. In an instant, you stop trying to get your legs underneath you, falling completely, deathly still, staring hard at the hand that hovers just in front of you, its fingers outstretched imploringly.

With the simple call of your name, your proclivity for rationalising away the coincidences flies straight out of the proverbial window.

There’s no pretending anymore. You’ve heard your name enough times now, spoken in that deep, dulcet voice that you doubt you’ll ever scrub it out of your head.

And then, as if it couldn’t get any worse….

“It’s me.”

The robot’s mouth moulds eerily around the words in its borrowed voice. Two ‘eyes’ like dazzling headlights remain adhered to you, azure burning so brightly through the gloom that they’re growing ever more difficult to look at, yet to turn away feels so much like presenting your spine to a loaded gun.

Your world tilts sideways as something in your brain is thrown off-kilter. A faint spell.

Thankfully, it only lasts for a second before your head snaps upright again and your surroundings find their anchor once more.

Perhaps, you think, it would have been better if you had fainted.

“Forgive me,” the robot continues, hushed but quick and orotund, “I am afraid that explanations will have to wait.”

He – ‘It, it, it,’ you chant – doesn’t give you another second to catch your breath.

In the next blink, the hands surge forwards. One cascades past you at breakneck speed, curving behind your back to keep you from retreating whereas the other moves to cover you like a suffocating roof.

You don’t see the stalactite crash into its knuckles just in the nick of time, glancing harmlessly off the metal instead of your own head.

“No, no! NO!” you bleat, maddened with terror, scrabbling at the ground to drag yourself backwards, but there’s a hand hitting your spine before you can make it a couple of feet, slipping easily under your backside and scooping you off the ground whilst its twin closes in on top of you.

A memory springs up, jarring and unbidden, of the cattle you put through the crush a few days ago, their bulging eyes and helpless lows, how frantically they fought against the metal keeping their heaving heads pinned so Terry could vaccinate them.

They looked scared to death.

You wish you never left that fateful day with your tail between your legs, cowed out by a family who were better off seeing the back of you than they were to live around all of your failures and inertia.

One last broken howl shakes out of your chest as the appendages come together, sealing you in a dark, cramped space between a pair of solid palms.

You just hope that when death comes, it'll be over so quickly, you don't even realise it's happening. 

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

Safety.

Optimus’s EM field sings with that one, crucial note, pulsing outwards in steady beats as it tries in vain to seek out and soothe your own.

He can feel you struggling, limbs fluttering against the insides of his palms as of some small avian creature beating its wings to try and take flight, and his spark creaks mournfully at the understanding that his servos are the cage you’re trying so desperately to escape.  

And yet in spite of his contrition, a wave of unabashed relief still floods the Prime’s circuitry like a balm to overheated plating, and something gentle clicks into place the very moment he has you secured in his hold, something that’s been niggling at his protocols since the night he found you alone on the road into Jasper.

If he had even a nano-second to spare, he might be inclined to selfishly savour the solace of having you close after almost losing you to Starscream’s malice.

The seeker fled before his missile even impacted the tunnel walls, leaping into a seamless transformation and vanishing with the blast of a jet engine, all while the Autobots were distracted by the sudden and horrifying sight of death barrelling towards their charges.

… Optimus hopes the Con realises how lucky he is to have turned tail rather than stick around to see the destruction unfurl. Prime isn’t sure he could have convinced Bulkhead not to rip the spark from Starscream’s chest if the seeker hadn’t removed himself from the equation in such a timely manner.

Primus, Optimus isn’t entirely sure he could have convinced himself either.

But even with Starscream gone, even with all of his focus honing in on you and the children, Optimus still hadn’t been fast enough, nor strong enough to stop harm from befalling you. Despite what his fellow Autobots and the children might think, he isn't omnipotent. He's lost far too many good mechs to ever consider calling himself as such. 

Primes shouldn’t dwell… but this latest failing will haunt him, of that he has no doubt.

He will not soon forget, however, the sight of you turning and shielding the children with your own body at the last possible moment before impact. He makes a note to thank you for that just as soon as he gets you out of here. But for as grateful and proud as he is, he only wishes you didn't have to be in that position at all. He should have been the one bearing the brunt of that explosion. Not you. Never you. 

He can almost hear Ratchet now, scolding him for trying to be a martyr. 

However, Optimus doesn’t have the luxury of penitence, certainly not now, when he has yet to ensure your safety in full.

He’s only traded one danger for another, but even without a Decepticon looming over you, you’re not much safer now than you were when Starscream’s weapon was drawn on you.

So long as you remain in this collapsing mine, your life still hangs in the balance.

And he will not have that.

Sending a wordless, apologetic thrum through the airwaves, Optimus heaves himself to his feet and whirls about, hurtling right into a steady charge across the cavern, following Bulkhead’s quickly fading tyre tracks.

Ahead of him, almost invisible through the tumbling ceiling, shines a vast, verdant swirl of familiar light.

Thank Primus the Wrecker had thought to call in a Ground bridge so hastily. He and the children are long-gone, safe on the other side where they should have been all this time. 

Now, Optimus just has to do the same.

Apertures narrowed to pinpricks, mouth set firmly behind his battle-mask, he launches his actuators into ferocious overdrive and storms towards the Ground Bridge, tucking his servos low against his chassis to further shield his precious cargo.

All of a sudden, a voice crackles to life in his audial. Ratchet’s.

“Optimu-!” But whatever his old friend might have said is cut promptly off with a squeal of static when a sizeable boulder strikes the Prime on his finial, knocking his head sharply to one side.

He shakes off the impact seamlessly, pushing his frame to the limit and never once letting his stride falter. He can hear the cavern swallowing itself behind him, thousands of tonnes of rock plummeting to the ground just where his pedes had last trodden, chasing him across what remains of the space and closing in fast.

Lower and lower, he has to duck as his shoulders are buffeted by the weight of an entire mountain hellbent on making him yield.

The Ground bridge’s light envelopes him like an outstretched hand as he hurdles a collapsed stalactite and reaches the edge of that empyreal glow. He can’t take his optics off it, not even when something whallops him on the back of his neck struts with the force of a thunderclap, not even when his legs buckle and his knees start to dip, and the tiny being in his palms lets out a muffled scream.

Out of time, straddling the precarious ledge between salvation and destruction, Optimus calls upon every vestige of strength he has left in his motors and funnels all power to his legs for one final, critical push.

With a tremendous kick, he hurls himself forwards through the bridge, twisting in the air as he flies over the threshold of the portal. For just a moment, he’s floating on his back, optics wide open to watch the writhing colours dance and spark over his head.

Then, not a moment too soon, the ceiling of light is replaced by a ceiling of familiar, rust-red rock.

When Optimus hits the ground, he hits it hard, nearly jarring his tanks up into his spark-chamber from the colossal force of the collision. Metal screams shrilly over concrete as he slides across the base’s floor for several metres on his back, scraping up his paint and leaving dark scuffs along the ground in his wake.

Yet throughout it all, by the will of Primus or his own self-regulated strength, Optimus’s hands remain steady, neither flexing closed not springing open, rigid and unmoving around your body in a way he prays will cushion you from the worst of the impact.

And finally, everything - the noise, the peril, the spark-stopping alarm he’s been warding off since the start of this whole, horrible affair – it all comes skidding to an abrupt halt when he does.

The momentum of his leap wears off at last, and leaves the mighty Prime laying supine in the middle of the Autobot base, blinking in stunned silence at the fluorescent lights hanging far overhead and listening to the wheels on his pedes spin slower and slower until they come to a stop.

There’s blessed movement in his servos, minute and delicate, and even with the ache in his shoulder struts and the frantic roar of his spark, he can’t resist taking a moment to twitch his thumb inwards with an infinite gentleness, eager to reassure himself of the presence of the human held inside.

Even when he registers the very clear jolt of you pulling away from his encroaching appendage, his relief doesn't waver.

He’s got you.

Of course, as it is so often wont to do, Optimus’s brief second of respite doesn’t last for very long at all.

“What-!?” the clipped, apoplectically incensed voice of his medic begins from somewhere nearby, easing Optimus’s flared nerves as a barrage of ‘outrage,’ ‘frustration’ and ‘concern’ all smack into his field at once, “-In Primus’s good name took you so fragging long!?”

[bluemantics]

Hunk can see wholeness in broken things.

When he was a kid, his mother taught him to cook, and she’d take his hands in her soft, calloused ones and guide him to slice an onion or peel a carrot. Her deep, brown eyes watched every move he made with fondness as he desperately tried to replicate her seemingly perfect technique. He anxiously sat by the stove as she stirred all the ingredients in a big, metal pot. 

After they’d finished, Hunk remembered the anxiety that nestled in his chest, squeezing his heart while he waited for her to take the first bite. She’d dipped her spoon straight into the soup and lifted it gingerly to her lips, a whisper of breath curling over it that blew steam off it in spirals. 

When she tasted it, her eyes lit up, widening with joy that Hunk would carry with him to school and to the desert and to space and back home. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually cooked it alone or that his mom had to work the stove. Hunk had taken all these things and made them something new, something whole. “Wonderful job, my little chef.” She ruffled his hair. 

So, Hunk continued cooking. He found love and pride he could only communicate in food. Little labors of dicing tomatoes, mixing sesame and soy, slathering chicken in herbs and spices, it was all a language Hunk spoke fluently, a way for him to communicate when his tongue failed and his nerves tightened. 

Then, he grew up, and cooking wasn’t enough. It was an escape, but it wasn’t realistic. However, the Garrison was. His mama and mom argued a lot over what was right for him. Mom said he would be fine at home, but Mama disagreed, told her that they should foster the first sign of ambition Hunk was showing.

Hunk wasn’t sure if he’d call it ambition. All he knew was that being a chef hadn’t worked out for Mom, what with her late nights in their dimly lit kitchen, clutching letters she’d failed to answer. His moms had provided so much for him. Being a chef… probably wouldn’t enable him to return on any of that. 

Eventually, his Mama won, and Hunk was set for the Garrison. There, he learned a new language, of tools and tech and cogs. Just like cooking, he was shockingly good at creating something new from all the metal parts and circuit boards. Engineer, though not his first choice, fit him just as well as chef. Teachers fawned over his creations, and his new teammate, Lance McClain, raved about how “dope” and “radical” his projects were. 

Hunk loved his new teammates. Lance was hilarious, totally different from all the people he’d grown up around. He was unafraid to speak his mind and take action in a way that Hunk was envious of. If he’d get his act together in the simulators, Lance would probably have made fighter pilot. Pidge was cool, too, even if he didn’t speak much. 

So, Hunk continued building. He pieced together plans and projects by day and cooked for Lance and Pidge at night. He collected all the parts he needed to make a life for himself in this strange, militaristic place, despite never picturing himself even adjacent to a soldier.

Yeah. Ironic.

Then, Hunk found himself a soldier, fighting a war 9,983 years older than his lifespan. Soldier fit much worse than engineer or chef. He didn’t put anything together on the battlefield, didn’t understand the language of violence or bullets. Every cry of pain was muffled in his aching eardrums. Armor fit him poorly, feeling more like a cage than a defensive wall. Over and over, he looked around, searched for the pieces he could shape together to make warfare understandable, digestible. His teammates seemed to have no problems with it, making strategies and executing missions without doubt or fear. Hunk just had to think, he had to adapt, he had to puzzle, he had to plan, he had no choice, where did it start? Where did it end? What is waiting for him on the other side of this, when the puzzle’s been fixed and the team has— 

The team. That was it. They functioned like a group of individuals. If anything, Hunk knew people. He wasn’t Lance, all hyper-EQ and intense awareness, but he had his own thing: approachability. 

If they were going to be in space for an indefinite amount of time, Hunk would piece together a team.

So he cooked. He made dinners, a place where they were forced to spend time together and talk like normal teenagers. He fed Allura and Coran and Shiro comfort foods during late-night episodes of nightmares.

So he built. He tinkered with his lion, fixed her up while chatting with Pidge and Keith, lending an ear to their worries and their silences alike. 

And when he got tired, he leaned on Lance, who would smile knowingly and say, “Nice work, buddy.” 

Even if war would never become understandable, Hunk would make it quieter during the off-moments. He’d fix something else, with hands passed on from his mom, calloused and gentle.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

White Dog {Blurb}

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: {Y/N}, daughter of a police captain, shows her support of Red Hood in an unconventional way.

CW: Cussing, use of {Y/N}, Reader drinks and gets drunk, not proof read

Wc: 1979

It was raining in Gotham, but in truth, when wasn't it? Rain drummed steadily in your eardrums, as it pelted the windows and roof, your heart seemed to respond to it.

You had never been so nervous. You had coordinated banquets, partied with modern and ancient stars alike, you had met Bruce Wayne as a child and even interviewed with Carmine Falcone himself on behalf of your father.

Even then, your hands still shook with nerves. Being a socialite in Gotham wasn't anything to scoff at, your father was a police Captain and ever since you were young you used his connections to make a mark on the city. People called it charming when you were younger, just an ambitious child who would carry around a recorder and paper at every function your father brought you to, asking a million different questions to a million different people.

People who now saw you as an equal.

Tonight, however, you were exposing yourself for the first time. Years of appeasing people, of working your way to the top, one of your art pieces had been picked up by ‘The Guilder Frame.’ - An art Gallery.

A piece your father hated. After spending the last few years trying to take down Red Hood, dismantle his criminal empire, his daughter comes out with a controversial piece that had the very ground buzzing with gossip.

The painting itself, "Guardian," sat behind you, a vibrant splash of color against the gallery's stark white walls. You were holding a glass of red wine as you spoke with a few people who would come to you about the piece, entertained the occasional reporter, and talk up to a few more higher society guests.

Most people were more intrigued with the statement you were making than the piece itself, flashing photos despite the ample rule of no flash photography. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and it was beginning to feel a bit more like the night was an excuse to raise some heads about darling {Y/N} {L/N} and her defiance towards everything her father had worked for.

You glanced back at the photo with a bit of pride. It depicted Red Hood, battered yet resolved, shielding a small white dog with his body- a stark contrast to the sophisticated art surrounding it. His helmet was chipped down the middle, and where his face would usually sit to the naked eye, you had clipped newspaper articles and quotes, of all the horrible things people had called him over the years. You couldn't help but feel the weight of your father's disapproval as you imagined his stern expression; a protector of the law grappling with the reality of his daughter admiring a vigilante.

One he had dedicated years to capture.

You took a deep breath, the mingling scents of paint, wine, and polished wood filling your lungs as you sat beside your painting, prideful. The murmurs and laughter echoed around you, but your mind was consumed with thoughts of your father's discontent and the risk you had taken in showcasing a piece that celebrated a man he viewed as a criminal. You hadn't spoken to him since the painting was picked up, but he was here.

Here to celebrate you, no matter how his face would twist in absolute disgust when he could glance at the framed art piece.

“Such a daring choice, my dear.” Your thoughts were cut off by a voice, smooth and dripping with faux sincerity. You turned to find a well-dressed socialite, a woman much like you, her smile a mix of intrigue and condescension. “Isn’t it a bit reckless, painting a vigilante as a hero? What would your father say?”

It wasn't the first time someone had asked you that tonight, it wouldn't be the last. Despite your disinterest in carrying on the same conversation, you plastered on a confident smile, determined not to let anyone see your unease. “Art is meant to challenge perceptions.” You hummed, your voice steady and a dazzling smile overtaking your face. “Red Hood is more than just a criminal. He’s a protector in his own way, and my painting reflects that complexity.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of challenge, and moved on to another guest, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You glanced back at "Guardian," the colors were dark and brutal. The reds and blacks bleed into a perfect scene, contrasting sharply with the soft white of the dog, who seemed to glow with innocence amidst the chaos. It was a visceral representation of the duality of Gotham itself- beauty and brutality intertwined, much like your own life.

You took a sip of your wine, letting the bitter taste swirl in your mouth as you tried to shake off the lingering unease. You turned back to the crowd before you spotted your father. It seemed his pride had lost, as he surfed through the crowd towards you. Not a hint of malice in his eyes, and you found yourself a bit excited. This was something you didn't just want to share with Gotham, but with him too.

You straightened your back and flattened your dress, only to hear a voice from beside you.

“Guardian, huh?”

You felt yourself deflate a bit at the question. Turning to face the figure only for your breath to catch in your throat.

A man, much taller than you, with piercing blue eyes and a tuft of white hair peaking from his black curls. Your eyes widened a bit, as you fully took him in. Unlike the people around you, in suits and dresses, glamoured and beautiful, he was in a simple hoodie, hood up to cover his face, and sweats that had a single hole at the ankle.

His presence was disarming, almost comforting, a stark contrast to the polished, pretentious atmosphere of the gallery. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, as if he saw something raw. Not seeing the socialite, the artists, the conversation piece but simply a person.

“Uh, yes.” You stammered, trying to regain your composure. “It’s about the complexity of Red Hood. He’s often painted as a villain, but I wanted to show the other side- how he protects those who can’t protect themselves.”

He stepped closer, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. Stepping around you, his body so close your heart stopped for a moment. He smelt like the rain outside, something a bit more earthy, almost metallic. He smelt nothing like the perfumes and colognes that made your head ache. The ones that drowned out most conversations in the hall.

“I see that.” He chuckled, voice dark and rich with something so dangerously comforting.

“I read your plaque.” He hummed and tapped the metal sign beside the painting that had the same quote from you, word for word. You had almost forgotten it, seeing as everyone else had neglected it, but he seemed to hang on every word. “‘In a city drenched in shadows, sometimes the greatest guardians emerge from the depths of darkness.’ Powerful stuff.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by how he interpreted your thoughts. “Thank you.” You smiled, your voice softening. “I wanted to capture the idea that even those deemed unworthy can still be protectors.”

You walked away from the wall for the first time of the night, standing beside him, and looking up at the painting with him, before glancing at him from the corner of your eye, to see he was already looking at you.

“Forgive my skepticism.” He spoke low, just for you. “You seem to pay him a lot of mind.” He offered before he lifted his finger to point at the white dog.

“Innocence. Is there any innocence left in Gotham?” He questioned and you nodded immediately.

“As long as there is life in Gotham, there will be innocence.” You mused quickly and he furrowed his brow at you. There was another moment of silence, as you glanced back to see your father was talking to Commissioner Gordon. Keeping him busy for the time being.

“What inspired this?” The boy finally spoke to you again, and when you turned this time, his eyes were locked on the painting.

You pursed your lip and bit your cheek. No one had asked you that yet, no one seemed to care more about it outside of the chaos it caused.

“A year ago, I was leaving a pub after a party.” You started, eyes tracing over the white dog in the image. “I was walking back, it was stupid of me but I wasn't more then a block or two from home. I wanted to take a shortcut through an alleyway.”

You took a deep breath, the memory flooding back as you fought to keep your voice steady. You could almost smell the awful stench of liquor on your own breath. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time- just a typical night in Gotham. But as I turned into the alley, I was cornered by a couple of guys. They were aggressive, and for a moment, I thought it was over for me.”

Your gaze drifted away from the painting, lost in the memory. “And then he came. Red Hood. I can’t even explain how it felt to see him. He was like a force of nature, moving with purpose. He didn’t hesitate; he was bloodied himself, knuckles were purple and his body clearly wasn't ready for a fight so soon. But he saw me. He saved me.”

You paused, the weight of your words hanging in the air as you felt a mix of vulnerability and strength wash over you. You had rehearsed this story, this moment, over and over again in your head. Yet it came out nothing like intended. “He fought them off without a second thought. It was like he had this innate sense of who needed help and when. In that moment, I wasn’t just another victim; I was someone worth saving.”

The man beside you watched intently, his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper- perhaps understanding or sympathy. You stretched out your hand, actually touching the painting to trace the bruised skin you spent hours perfecting from your memory. “He wrapped his arm around me, when it was over. But he had this crack, down the center of his mask.”

The man beside you stiffened, and he stared at you with widening eyes. You traced the painted crack and eyed over the slam piece clippings. Taking a moment, you finally turned to lock eyes with the looming figure. “I saw his face.”

His jaw dropped a bit, eyes scanning yours for any proof that you remembered. And by the sly smirk and dazzling eyes, filled with so much admiration for a presumed stranger- “Shit, uhm-”

You couldn't held back a laugh, covering your mouth as it came out a bit too loud. You shook your head and before he could respond, held your hand up to quiet him. Turning to face your father as he made it out of the sea of people. Before you left, you turned to look at him one more time. He seemed to still be grappling with the new information. “You should join me, at the after party.” You offered, pausing for just a moment. “Let me thank you properly.”

And with that, you walked away from him. Greeting your father and starting up a mundane conversation. You could feel it, however, his eyes on you. Turning, you watched as he stared at you. Expression blank but his cheeks a flushed shade of red, looking out of place and confused. You smiled at him and it seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. Quickly fixing the hoodie on his face to disappear into the sea of people.

[tenjikusprincess]

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓽-𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓮

chifuyu x fem!reader authors note: HII i saw @dollrndo speak about this idea and i want to give full credit to them as i did not create this idea. also, if you guys want, i can write this for male readers as well if anyone wants to request it! it was fun writing this, it gave me butterflies SHHH. its all fluff, maybe a grain of salt of angst if u squint really hard. its not proofread so if you see any mistakes, i give permission to point and laugh :> this takes place in the last timeline btww! anyways, i hope u like it!

Scratch, scratch. 

It was 12:03 AM. The exact time your cat decided to stage her nightly rebellion. 

"Please," you groaned, dragging your voice like a ghost haunting your own bedroom, "stop scratching the window..." 

The scratching only intensified, each sound scraping your eardrums like nails on a chalkboard. You grabbed your pillow and slammed it over your head, a feeble attempt to block out the feline fury.  

"I love you," you mumbled through gritted teeth, "but why do you keep going out so late?" 

Eventually, enough was enough. With the grace of a half-dead zombie, you rolled out of bed and trudged over to the window. You opened it with a dramatic sigh, like some weary mother letting her rebellious teenage daughter sneak out for the thousandth time. 

Your cat didn’t even look at you—just hopped down like she had appointments to keep. You muttered a curse, slammed the window shut, and collapsed back into bed. 

And yet... you couldn’t sleep. 

Your brain started spiraling. Where did she go every night? She’d slink off at midnight and return at sunrise, like some secret agent on a mission. Maybe someone was feeding her? Petting her? Letting her watch TV? 

Or maybe... she was cheating on you with someone else. 

With that disturbing thought, you eventually drifted off. 

You woke up around 9:00 AM, expecting the familiar, annoying little scratches at your window. But… silence. 

You blinked at the ceiling, sat up, and looked around. 

No cat. 

A flash of concern rippled through you. Normally she'd be back by now, screaming to be fed like she hadn’t just snuck out and partied all night. 

You rushed through the house like a whirlwind, calling her name with growing panic. No pawsteps, no tail flicking past the hallway, and no smug little face. 

You slumped onto the couch, hair a mess, heartbeat erratic. Where the hell could she be? 

Then—like a badly timed horror movie jump scare—you heard it. 

Scratch, scratch. 

You leapt up and bolted to your bedroom. There she was, like nothing happened, just chilling outside the window with a what are you freaking out for expression. 

"You stupid little—" You cut yourself off as you opened the window to let her in. 

"Where the hell were you!" you hissed as she hopped in gracefully, trotting toward her food bowl like royalty returning from war. 

She meowed like nothing to see here, and you just rolled your eyes. 

But deep down… you weren’t letting this go. 

The next morning was supposed to be productive. You had errands to run, groceries to grab, maybe a coffee to reward your functioning existence. 

You got dressed in your comfiest clothes, pulled your hair into a loose braid, leaving the front strands to frame your face. 

As you headed for the door, your cat suddenly followed you. That alone was strange—usually she was in her little bed, curled up like a loaf. 

"You wanna come with me?" you joked, opening the door. 

To your surprise, she walked out like she absolutely had plans. 

"Hey! No no no, we’re not doing this." You opened the door again. "Go back inside." 

She stared at you, unblinking and defiant. 

When you tried to pick her up, she exploded like a demon from a cat-shaped piñata. 

"Ow—hey! What the—!" you hissed as she clawed at your arms, scratching deep enough to draw blood. She hissed, kicked off your chest, and landed with flair before sauntering off to another apartment door nearby. 

"Unbelievable," you muttered, wiping at your bleeding cheek. 

She scratched the door twice. Like clockwork, another cat appeared, meowing happily. A boyfriend? 

Then... the door opened wider. 

A guy stepped into view. Short black hair, half-asleep expression, undercut messy from bed. He wore a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, slippers slightly mismatched. You locked eyes. 

His widened immediately. 

He took in the sight of you—bleeding, disheveled, holding your face like you’d been mauled by a bear. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice concerned but a little caught off guard. 

You blinked at him. “I—yeah. I’m fine.” You turned and headed for your door, your pride cracking under the weight of this ridiculous moment. 

“Wait!” he called. “I can clean you up! It’s happened to me too, often.” 

You hesitated. Your cat had already abandoned you for her “lover”. You were bleeding, and he was cute. 

You sighed. “Fine.” 

His apartment smelled like vanilla and faint cologne. A cozy chaos. The two cats immediately started chasing each other through the living room like it was the feline Olympics. 

“Sit, I’ll grab my first aid kit,” he said, walking off. 

You sat stiffly on his couch, arms stinging and heart pounding. 

Your cat wandered over and rubbed against your leg like nothing happened. You glared at her. “So now you wanna be sweet?” 

She meowed innocently. 

When the guy returned, he knelt next to you and opened the kit. “I’m Chifuyu, by the way. Chifuyu Matsuno. That’s Peke J.” He nodded toward his cat. “Guessing your cat is…his girlfriend?” 

You gave a tired laugh. “Looks like it. I’m Y/N. And she’s currently single until further notice.” 

He grinned. “Well, thanks for the warning.” 

He started dabbing at the scratches on your arms. The alcohol stung like hell, but you didn’t flinch too hard. Still, he noticed every tiny wince. 

“Sorry, sorry. I know it hurts.” 

“It’s fine,” you murmured, trying not to focus on how close he was, or how good he smelled, or how unfair it was that he was attractive and kind. 

After your arms were covered in more band-aids than skin, he hesitated. 

“…Your face.” 

You blinked. “What about it?” 

“I, uh—there’s a scratch. Near your eye. I should clean that too, if you’re okay with it.” 

Your breath caught slightly. You nodded. 

He leaned in, gently brushing a strand of hair aside. 

His fingers were warm and careful. You closed your eyes. 

The moment was quiet. Charged. You could feel your pulse quicken as he softly wiped away the drying blood. 

His fingertips grazed your cheekbone, sending a strange flutter down your spine. 

He paused, just for a second. 

You opened your eyes—and found his gaze locked on yours. 

Neither of you said anything. 

There was something there. Something unspoken. And it scared you, just a little. 

He swallowed. You blinked. 

Then both of you looked away at the same time, like it never happened. 

“All done,” he muttered, capping the ointment. 

You cleared your throat and glanced at your phone. “It’s already been thirty minutes… I should go. I’ve got errands.” 

He nodded, standing. “Right. Of course. You can leave her here if you want—I don’t mind watching them. They’ll probably just nap.” 

You offered a small smile. “Thanks. Really.” 

You turned to go, hand on the doorknob when— 

“Wait!” he called again. 

You turned, a little startled. 

He stepped forward and reached out. Gently, he tucked a loose strand of hair back into your braid, fingers brushing your temple. 

“There. You looked like you wrestled a tornado,” he teased softly. 

You stared at him, caught off guard by how intimate the gesture felt despite how casual it was. 

“…Thanks,” you said, voice a little quieter this time. 

You turned and walked out, heart thudding in your chest like it had just realized something you were trying to ignore. 

As you reached the stairs, you glanced back once—just once—but the door was already closed. 

Back inside, Chifuyu leaned against it, exhaling deeply. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at nothing in particular. 

Peke J meowed, brushing up against his leg. 

“…What just happened?” he whispered to himself, feeling the warmth of your skin still on his fingers. 

A few hours later… 

You had finished your errands faster than usual—partly because you were focused, mostly because your mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to earlier. 

Not the scratches, not the stinging alcohol wipes or the bandaids that now decorated your arms like little badges of shame. No, it was the way Chifuyu had leaned in so carefully to clean your face. How quiet it had gotten. How strange it felt to have someone else taking care of you, even for a second. 

You kept telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. He was just being nice. He probably would’ve done the same for anyone, especially if their cat was dating his. 

You let out a breath and walked up the apartment steps, a plastic convenience store bag swinging in your hand. You’d grabbed some snacks as a thank-you gesture… but now you weren’t even sure if showing up again was a good idea. 

What if it was weird? 

Before you could overthink it further, his door creaked open. 

Chifuyu stood there, blinking like he hadn’t expected to see you. He was holding an empty glass in one hand and looked like he was on his way to the kitchen. 

“Oh. Uh—hey.” 

“Hey,” you said back, a little stiffly. “Just… came to get my cat.” 

“She’s, uh, still here. They passed out after about an hour of chaos,” he said, stepping aside so you could see inside. 

Sure enough, your cat was flopped across the rug like a melted candle, tail twitching. Peke J was perched like royalty on the couch, one eye barely open in sleepy disinterest. 

“Figured I’d bring snacks,” you mumbled, holding up the bag. “You survived the shift, so…” 

Chifuyu raised his eyebrows and motioned you in with a shrug. “Appreciate it. You didn’t have to, though.” 

You stepped inside carefully, glancing around again. Nothing destroyed. No fur-tornado aftermath. Just a strangely peaceful apartment that smelled like green tea and clean laundry. 

“I wasn’t sure if I should stop by,” you admitted, placing the bag on the table. “Wasn’t trying to be annoying.” 

“You’re not,” he said a little too quickly, then scratched the back of his neck. “I mean… they’re your cats, too. Sort of. I mean—not your cat, obviously. I meant—” 

“I get it,” you said, trying not to smile as you sat down on the arm of the couch. 

He muttered something under his breath about needing more sleep and sat cross-legged on the floor. Your cat rolled over and gave him a tired blink. 

“She’s not usually this social,” you said, watching her. “I didn’t think she liked strangers.” 

Chifuyu gave a small laugh. “Maybe she’s just here for Peke J. I don’t think she even notices me.” 

“You and me both.” 

A silence settled in—not uncomfortable, just quiet. You glanced at him again as he poked through the snack bag and pulled out a small pack of cookies. 

He held them up like a peace offering. “Mind if I—?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Thanks.” 

More silence. More weird, subtle tension neither of you seemed sure how to deal with. 

You fiddled with your sleeve. “So… do you do this often?” 

“Babysit strange cats? No,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “But, y’know, I work at a pet shop part-time. I’m used to fur and chaos.” 

“Ah. That explains the ‘I’ve-got-this’ energy.” 

He shrugged. “I fake it. Works most of the time.” 

You both laughed softly, then fell quiet again. 

For a moment, you just sat there, letting the quiet settle. Chifuyu leaned his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. His cat stretched out beside him and yawned. Your cat rolled over and pressed a paw to his leg like she owned him. 

And still, you felt that weird tension tugging again, not romantic. Not yet. Just… something. 

You stood up. “I should probably take her back. Before she claims this apartment as her own.” 

He nodded, standing too. “Fair enough. She was starting to boss Peke J around.” 

You scooped her up—more gently this time—and held her close to your chest. She didn’t squirm, which was rare. 

“Thanks,” you said. “For everything earlier.” 

“No problem,” Chifuyu replied, rubbing the back of his neck again. “You sure you’re good? With the scratches and all?” 

“Yeah,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’ll live.” 

You headed for the door, and just as your hand touched the knob, he spoke up again. 

“…If she comes back tomorrow, I’ll probably be here. Just saying.” 

You glanced over your shoulder. 

“Got it.” 

You left before it got any weirder. But halfway down the hall, you found yourself smiling like an idiot. 

The next evening 

You weren’t planning to go back. 

You really weren’t. But around 11:58 p.m., when the familiar scratching started, you were already wide awake—waiting. 

She was on schedule, as usual. Your traitorous little escape artist. You stared at the ceiling, listening to her scratch the window, then sighed and pulled on a hoodie. 

“Okay. Fine. Go ahead and cheat on me again,” you muttered, swinging the window open. 

Your cat slipped out without so much as a goodbye, tail swishing smugly. 

This time, though, instead of going back to bed, you slipped on your shoes and followed her. Quietly. You weren't sure why, but you had this weird itch—curiosity, maybe. Or something else. 

You trailed her down the apartment stairs, hugging the wall like a spy. She walked with purpose, confident and careless, until she stopped in front of his door and scratched. 

As if she paid rent here. 

The door opened after a few seconds—and you immediately realized it wasn’t Chifuyu who answered. 

It was someone else. 

Another guy—tall, long black hair, tired-looking. He squinted down at your cat and muttered, “Oh, it’s you again.” 

Peke J meowed from somewhere inside the apartment. 

You blinked, stepping out from behind the railing. “Uh… hi?” 

The guy looked up, startled. “Oh. You must be the girl from yesterday. The one Chifuyu patched up.” 

You gave a half-smile. “Unfortunately, yes.” 

He rubbed his neck. “He’s not here, ran out to grab something.” 

“Oh, okay. I’ll just—wait, my cat—” 

Too late. She slipped in the moment he turned to check on Peke J. You stared at the door, slightly stunned. 

“Wanna wait inside or…?” 

You hesitated. 

The guy shrugged. “Suit yourself.” 

And then he closed the door. 

Rude. 

You stood in the hallway for a minute, unsure what to do—until you heard footsteps. A plastic bag rustling. 

Chifuyu turned the corner, brows furrowing when he saw you just standing there. 

“Y/N?” 

You blinked. “Your friend just closed the door on me.” 

He gave a tired, amused smile. “Yeah, that sounds like Baji.” 

He stepped past you, knocked once—loudly—and the door reopened just as fast. 

“You let her in but not her actual owner?” 

“She was faster,” Baji mumbled, wandering back into the apartment without a second glance. 

Chifuyu rolled his eyes, then looked back at you. “You wanna come in?” 

You paused again, then nodded. 

“Only because my cat broke in.” 

“Sure,” he said, hiding a smirk as he opened the door wider for you. 

Inside, things felt different. Not in a bad way. Just… more alive. There were extra shoes by the door now, another jacket on the back of a chair. You figured Baji must crash here a lot. 

You sat on the edge of the couch while Chifuyu went to put the plastic bag in the kitchen. “He your roommate?” 

“Something like that,” he called over his shoulder. “He shows up, eats my food, and argues with Peke J.” 

You smiled a little. “Sounds healthy.” 

He came back and sat a few feet from you, this time careful to give you space. “Didn’t think you’d be back.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t sleep.” 

Silence fell between you again, but not quite the same kind. Not tense. Just… watchful. 

Your eyes drifted toward your cat, who was now shamelessly sharing Peke J’s water bowl like she’d moved in permanently. 

“She’s ridiculous,” you muttered. 

“She’s loyal,” Chifuyu countered. 

You gave him a look. “Loyal? She scratched me up like I was a threat to her love life.” 

He laughed softly, and the sound made your stomach flip again, the way it did the first time. You hated that it happened. Hated that it didn’t stop. 

You cleared your throat and looked down at your sleeves. 

“I’ve been thinking about maybe keeping her inside. Like, for real this time.” 

Chifuyu’s expression dropped just slightly. “Oh. Yeah, makes sense. Probably safer.” 

“Yeah.” You tugged your sleeve down, glancing over at him. “You’d miss her?” 

He shrugged, looking anywhere but you. “Maybe.” 

You both sat in that moment for a beat longer than necessary. It hung there between you—something unspoken. Tangled in hesitation and quietness. 

Finally, you stood. “I should go before she decides to stay the night again.” 

Chifuyu nodded slowly. “Do you… want help carrying her?” 

You gave him a dry look. “If she claws me again, I’m sending you the hospital bill.” 

He grinned. “Fair.” 

He picked up your cat with practiced hands, and to your complete shock, she didn’t fight him. Just looked mildly inconvenienced. 

You opened the door as he handed her over. 

“Thanks,” you said, shifting her weight in your arms. “Again.” 

“Anytime,” he replied, then paused. “You coming by tomorrow?” 

You blinked. “Depends. Is she?” 

He smiled faintly. “Probably.” 

You nodded. “Then… maybe.” 

And with that, you walked off into the quiet hallway, your heart beating too fast for how calm everything had been. You didn’t look back. 

But if you had, you’d have seen him standing there—just for a second longer than necessary—watching you leave. 

The next evening, you hadn’t meant to stay long. Honestly. 

You were just going to watch your cat for a few minutes, maybe chat a little, then go home and try to reclaim what was left of your night. 

But hours slipped by weirdly fast. One moment, you were poking fun at your cat for flopping dramatically onto Chifuyu’s rug like she owned the place, and the next, you were curled up on the couch with a blanket tossed lazily over your legs, watching a dumb documentary neither of you could follow. 

Your cat and Peke J were passed out near the foot of the couch, practically glued to each other, traitors. 

“I should go,” you mumbled, yawning and glancing at your phone. The screen was blurry, and you had to blink a few times to register the time. 2:47 a.m. “I didn’t mean to stay this long.” 

Chifuyu, half-dozing against the armrest, blinked awake. “You can crash here if you want. You’re, like… two doors down, but still.” 

You snorted. “Two doors away and you think I can’t make it.” 

“I’m saying you look like you can’t make it.” 

He wasn’t wrong. You were already halfway horizontal; the blanket tucked under your chin and one slipper dangling off your foot. Your body felt heavy, warm, and way too comfortable for someone who was just “visiting.” 

“I guess five more minutes wouldn’t kill me.” 

Those five minutes turned into thirty. Then you were out cold. 

“Damn, Chifuyu. You moving fast these days?” 

Chifuyu’s eyes cracked open to the sound of Baji’s voice. His face was still half-smashed into a throw pillow, his hoodie wrinkled and his hair sticking up at angles that defied physics. For a second, he had no idea what Baji was talking about. 

Then he remembered. 

You. 

Still sleeping on the other end of the couch, your arm curled around your cat as she snoozed peacefully against your chest. Peke J was snuggled up near your feet like you were part of the furniture. 

Chifuyu sat up a little too fast. “Shut up.” 

Baji smirked from the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee like it was a microphone. “I leave for one night and you’ve got girls falling asleep on the couch. Should I get out or just get earplugs?” 

“She fell asleep,” Chifuyu muttered, rubbing his eyes. “It wasn’t planned.” 

“Ohhh, it wasn’t planned,” Baji repeated with mock seriousness. “Sure. Just like how the cats weren’t planning a secret romance.” 

Chifuyu rolled his eyes, but his ears were already red. 

“You’re making it weird.” 

“I’m making it weird? You tucked her in, didn’t you?” 

Chifuyu didn’t answer. Which said everything. 

Meanwhile 

You stirred awake to the soft sound of someone laughing in the next room and the slightly uncomfortable pressure of a cat tail on your neck. You blinked slowly, then sat up with a confused squint, only to realize you were still on Chifuyu’s couch. 

Oh crap. 

You glanced around quickly. No one else was in the room. The blanket was still over you. The cats were gone. Your heart thudded a little harder than it needed to. 

Just as you stood up and tried to quietly straighten your hair, Chifuyu walked in holding two mugs. He paused mid-step when he saw you standing awkwardly with your blanket half-draped over your leg. 

“Oh. You’re up.” 

You nodded slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I—uh. Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pass out.” 

“It’s okay,” he said, offering one of the mugs. “I figured if I tried to wake you, your cat would murder me.” 

You laughed softly, still feeling weirdly off-balance. “She’s protective.” 

“She’s terrifying.” 

The pause that followed was light, but it buzzed with something unspoken. You were both doing it again—feeling that something, that pull neither of you wanted to admit was there. 

You looked down at the coffee. “Thanks for this… and, you know, not kicking me out.” 

Chifuyu shrugged. “You live two doors down. I figured it wasn’t kidnapping.” 

You chuckled. “That’s true.” 

He watched you for a second, like he was working up the courage to say something else. But then Baji popped his head around the corner. 

“Oh look, the lovebirds are caffeinated now.” 

“Baji...” Chifuyu almost snapped. 

You nearly choked on your drink, turning away so they wouldn’t see you try not to laugh. 

“Just saying,” Baji added with a smirk, “Next time, at least warn me so I don’t walk in on a romantic sleepover.” 

“It wasn’t—! I swear—!” 

You set the mug down and grabbed your cat, who was sitting nearby cleaning her paws like none of this was her fault. “I think it’s time for us to go.” 

Chifuyu shot Baji a death glare and followed you to the door. 

As you stepped into the hallway, you looked at him one more time. “Thanks again. Really.” 

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “Anytime. And… if she sneaks back again tonight, you’re welcome to come grab her.” 

You nodded, biting back a smile. “I might just do that.” 

As you walked down the hall to your own apartment—just two doors away—you couldn’t help the weird flutter in your stomach. 

It wasn’t love. Not yet. 

But maybe... it was starting to feel like the beginning of something. 

Two Weeks Later, it became a routine. 

A weird, unofficial, unspoken routine. 

Your cat would scratch at the window around midnight, and you wouldn’t even fight it anymore. You’d open it with a dramatic sigh and mutter, “Go on, love of my life,” as she jumped down like a little four-legged fugitive. Sometimes you’d stay by the window just long enough to hear the faint sound of another scratch two doors down—followed by a quiet laugh or the low creak of Chifuyu’s apartment door. 

And some nights… you followed her. 

At first, it was just to make sure she didn’t kill Peke J. But over time, it turned into something else. 

You and Chifuyu started talking more. Sometimes it was in his apartment. Sometimes in the hall. Other times you’d both meet outside with mugs in hand like a pair of old neighbors in the suburbs. You learned he liked black coffee but hated bitter chocolate. He learned you cried when watching animal rescue videos, and you learned he didn’t know how to fold a fitted sheet to save his life. 

One night, he knocked on your door at 11:43 p.m., holding up a tangled sheet and wearing a pitiful expression. 

“Help.” 

You laughed so hard your cat came running to check on you. 

Now, it wasn’t one specific moment that changed everything. 

It was a million little ones. 

Like how he started keeping your favorite tea in his cabinet. Or how he’d pull your cat into his lap without saying anything, like she was his too. Or how you both started sitting a little closer on the couch when you watched movies together, knees brushing, elbows bumping—but neither of you moving away. 

It felt normal. Familiar, maybe even too familiar. 

It was late one night. You’d both spent the evening rewatching a movie you claimed to hate but secretly liked because Chifuyu made it more entertaining with his commentary. 

You were sprawled out on the couch, head tilted back, laughing at something he said. Your cat and Peke J were curled up in the corner, long passed out. Chifuyu had moved to sit on the floor, leaning back against the couch near your legs, his hand absently playing with the hem of your sleeve. 

It was comfortable, quiet. 

And then, it happened. 

The power went out. 

There was a soft click, and the entire apartment was swallowed in darkness. The TV, the lights, everything—gone. You let out a startled, “Oh—” and sat up quickly. 

Chifuyu cursed under his breath. “That was... not me. Swear.” 

You both sat in the dark for a second, blinking uselessly. “Well,” you said softly, “this is cozy.” 

Chifuyu laughed. “You okay?” 

“I’m good, just blind.” 

He reached for his phone and turned on the flashlight, setting it on the coffee table. The glow lit up his face in soft amber, and you looked at him—really looked at him. His hair was messy, his eyes reflecting the glow like candlelight, and his hand was still resting near yours on the couch. 

You didn’t mean to stare. 

But he didn’t look away either. 

Something shifted. 

Neither of you moved. 

You felt it—like a quiet inhale the world forgot to exhale. Like something was waiting. 

He finally spoke, voice lower than usual. “You ever feel like… something’s been happening slowly, but you’re just now noticing it?” 

You blinked, unsure if he was talking about the power outage or— 

“I mean,” he continued, fingers now just barely brushing yours, “this. You and me. It’s not just because of the cats, right?” 

Your stomach flipped. 

You looked down at your hands. “No,” you said quietly. “It’s not.” 

There it was. 

The quiet confession neither of you meant to say, but couldn’t keep in anymore. 

He smiled softly, almost in disbelief, like he was waiting for the moment to shatter. 

But it didn’t. 

You didn’t jump into his arms. He didn’t kiss you. It wasn’t a movie ending. 

But it was real. 

A moment that felt like finally. 

“I, uh…” you chuckled awkwardly, brushing hair behind your ear. “Didn’t think you noticed.” 

“I did. I just… figured you didn’t.” 

You shook your head slowly. “We’re both idiots.” 

Chifuyu laughed, the tension breaking just enough for the air to feel breathable again. “Yeah. Definitely.” 

And still—neither of you moved. 

You just sat there, in the soft flicker of flashlight glow, your cats curled up nearby, and for the first time, everything felt understood. 

Mutual. 

Unspoken—but finally, known. 

Just as the moment settled into something tender and quiet, the lights flickered—once, then twice—and then surged back with a soft electric hum. The TV clicked back on with the paused movie still frozen on screen, and the lamp in the corner bathed the room in a warm yellow light. 

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted. 

The soft mystery of the darkness was gone, replaced with clarity that felt way too bright and a little too real. 

You both blinked at the sudden light. 

Chifuyu looked away first. 

You slowly retracted your hand, the one that had been inching toward his without fully realizing it. 

He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Guess the power wanted to kill the vibe,” he joked, forcing a little laugh. 

You gave a tight smile, heart still doing acrobatics. “Yeah, it’s got great timing.” 

Silence again—but this time it felt heavier, like neither of you knew what to say now that the spell had broken. 

“I should probably get going,” you muttered, suddenly all too aware that you were in his apartment… in your pajama pants… with your hair all frizzy from the couch. 

“Oh. Yeah,” he said quickly. “Right. Of course.” 

You stood and glanced over at your cat, who was still fast asleep curled up with Peke J. “She’s knocked out.” 

“She can stay here. If you want,” he offered, rubbing the back of his neck again—his nervous tic, you were beginning to notice. 

You hesitated, part of you wanted to leav, put space between whatever that moment was and the feelings it brought up. 

The other part of you… didn’t. 

“…I’ll stay too. Just for a little while. In case the power cuts again,” you said, voice quiet but steady. 

Chifuyu looked surprised—but not unhappy. “Sure. Yeah, makes sense.” 

But instead of going back to the couch, you sat on the floor again, this time leaning against the side of it. He joined you, a little further away than before. 

The silence was louder now. 

More tense. 

You both avoided looking at each other for a while, watching the movie like it was a boring documentary. You couldn’t focus, not really. 

Eventually, though, the exhaustion won.... 

I mean, you didn’t mean to fall asleep. 

You certainly didn’t mean to lean against him while doing so. 

But somehow, somewhere between one scene and the next, your head had slipped against his shoulder, and your body had curled slightly into his side. His arm had looped around you—protectively, almost like instinct. 

You both slept that way until morning, when a loud knock startled you awake. 

Your eyes blinked open to see sunlight pouring through the window. You were still curled into Chifuyu. His arm was still around you. 

Before you could process it, another knock came—louder. 

“Yo, Chifuyu! You alive in there or did your cats eat you?” 

You flinched, whisper-shouting, “Who the hell—?” 

Chifuyu groaned, rubbing his eyes. “That’s Baji, he lives close by.” 

The door opened. Just like that, no shame. 

You panicked and tried to sit up, but Chifuyu was already in the process of doing the same—and your heads knocked together. 

“Ow!” 

“Shit—sorry!” 

“What the hell is this?” Baji’s voice rang out, amused and thoroughly entertained. He walked in, holding a convenience store bag and a bottle of iced tea. He looked between the two of you—your flushed faces, the arm that had just pulled away from your waist, your tangled hair—and grinned like the devil himself. 

“Well, well, well. Didn’t know the cats had arranged a sleepover for the humans.” 

“It’s not like that,” you both said at the same time. 

Baji looked at Chifuyu, deadpan. “You’re blushing.” 

“I’m not,” Chifuyu mumbled, standing up and dragging a hand through his hair, flustered and tired. 

You wanted to disappear into the floor. 

Baji just smirked. “Whatever you say, lover boy.” 

Later that day, something felt... different., not in the good way. 

You weren’t sure what changed. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe it was Chifuyu going quiet after Baji left, maybe it was you suddenly overthinking everything—how close you’d gotten, how easy it was to fall into that closeness. 

You didn’t stay long after waking up. 

You said goodbye, scooped up your cat, and left quickly, leaving Chifuyu in the doorway with a weird expression on his face. 

Neither of you texted that day, or the next. 

Not even when your cat scratched at the window at midnight like usual. You opened it, but this time, she hesitated before jumping. 

Even she felt it—the distance. 

It had been almost a week since you stayed over at Chifuyu’s. 

A whole week of carefully avoiding each other—like you hadn’t literally fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder, like you hadn’t practically melted when he touched your face, like Baji hadn’t caught you both looking way too cozy on that couch. 

You were annoyed. Mostly at yourself. Maybe a little at him, too. 

Not that you’d admit it. 

Your cat, however, had no time for your emotionally stunted nonsense, because tonight? Tonight, she came back with battle scars. 

She jumped through your window at 7 a.m. as usual, but this time she was limping slightly and meowing with absolute fury. You sat up instantly, panic gripping your chest. 

“What the—what happened?!” 

You crouched to check her paw, and that’s when you saw it—tiny claw marks along her side, like she’d gotten into a fight. You immediately felt the kind of adrenaline only a cat parent knows. 

No hesitation. 

You stormed out of your apartment in your hoodie and socks, scooped her up, and marched two doors down. 

You didn’t even knock properly—more like pounded. 

Chifuyu opened the door, half-asleep, hair sticking up in five different directions, shirt slightly wrinkled. 

“Y/n…? What’s—?” 

“She’s hurt.” 

His expression snapped into full alert, blinking hard as he focused on the cat in your arms. “Wait, what?” 

“She’s got scratches. Claw marks. Your cat fought her.” 

“Peke J would never—” 

“He did! Look!” You held her out. “I know you haven’t trained him to be a criminal but I swear to God if she clawed my cat because you’re too emotionally constipated to text me back—” 

“…What?” 

You froze. 

Oh no. 

Oh no you did not just say that. 

You opened your mouth to backtrack, but Chifuyu was already smirking and squinting his eyes—sleep still in them but amusement winning over. 

“So this isn’t about the cat.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You kinda did.” 

“Your cat clawed mine, that’s the main thing here.” 

“You literally brought up texting.” 

You groaned, clutching your cat closer. “Can I just come in? I need to see Peke J before I accuse her of felony assault.” 

He stepped aside without another word. 

You walked in like a storm cloud. Peke J was lounging on the window sill like a villain. The moment he saw you, he stretched and hopped down to walk toward your cat. 

The two stared at each other—then, without warning, rubbed heads like nothing happened. 

“…Are you kidding me?” 

Chifuyu sighed. “I think they just had a lovers' spat.” 

“Don’t call it that,” you said, already feeling your cheeks warm. 

He looked at you, really looked this time. You felt the shift again, like something unspoken was pulsing between you both. 

And then he spoke—quietly this time. 

“You were right, though. About the texting.” 

You looked at him, surprised. “I was?” 

“I didn’t text because I didn’t know how to act normal after that night. I didn’t want to make things weird.” 

“Well,” you gestured between the cats. “We already passed weird.” 

“…Yeah.” 

There was a pause. Not awkward, just heavy with words neither of you had figured out how to say. 

Chifuyu scratched the back of his neck again. “Look. Do you want coffee or something? I feel like we should talk without the threat of feline violence hanging over us.” 

You hesitated—but nodded. 

You sat on the couch again. Same as before. But this time, he didn’t sit far away. 

This time, he sat beside you. 

And neither of you looked away. 

A few days later, it started simple enough. 

You were both sitting on his couch again—cats passed out on the rug like they didn’t just cause yet another domestic incident. You could already feel something off in the air. 

He wouldn’t meet your eyes. 

“So,” he began, clearing his throat. “About the other day…” 

Your stomach tightened. “Yeah?” 

“I think we should keep it chill,” he said, too casually. “Like… friends.” 

You blinked. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, I mean… it’s probably for the best, right? You’ve got stuff going on. School. Work. And I’ve got—” 

“Oh, don’t give me the you’ve got your life, I’ve got mine speech. What is this, a break-up from a relationship that never started?” 

Chifuyu looked at you, eyes wide, caught off guard by the way you snapped. 

“I’m just trying to be reasonable,” he said, defensive now. 

“No, you’re trying to protect yourself from feelings you already have,” you shot back. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” 

He stood up, pacing a little. “So what—you want me to just admit I like you and risk ruining everything?” 

“You think not admitting it isn’t already ruining things?” 

The room went dead silent. The air between you practically sizzled. 

He turned slowly, eyes darker now. “You think I don’t want this? That I haven’t been thinking about it since the first night you showed up bleeding from your cat looking like you were sleep-deprived and still looked beautiful?” 

Your breath hitched. 

He kept going, stepping closer, voice lower. “You think I haven’t replayed that night? You falling asleep next to me? The way you looked at me when I touched your face?” 

You stared up at him, heart thundering, completely frozen. 

“I’m scared, y/n,” he said, softer now. “I’m scared because I actually care.” 

You didn’t even think. 

You stood up and pulled him down into a kiss, it was desperate, like you were both trying to say everything without speaking. 

His hands found your waist. Yours tangled in his hair. 

When you finally broke apart, breathing heavy, you didn’t move away. His forehead pressed to yours, both of you still catching your breath. 

“Still want to be friends?” you muttered, a half-smirk tugging at your lips. 

He let out a breathless laugh. “Screw friendship.” 

You laughed too, forehead still touching his. 

Suddenly, the sound of something crashing down the hallway made you both jump. 

“Was that the cats?” you asked, looking toward the noise. 

“Probably destroyed my bathroom again,” Chifuyu sighed. “Peke J thinks the sink is a jungle gym.” 

You leaned into him, arms still loosely around his neck. “We should probably check on them.” 

“Right now?” he said, looking down at you with that unreadable look again. 

Your fingers curled slightly into his hoodie. “Later.” 

He kissed you again, slower this time, sweeter. 

Neither of you said it yet, but you didn’t have to. 

It was there—in the way your hands held each other like you were afraid to let go, in the silence between the kisses, in the way your cats continued to create absolute havoc in the other room like they knew this was exactly where you needed to be. 

The sunlight was already spilling through the blinds by the time your eyes blinked open. 

Your head rested against something warm, steady. 

For a moment, you didn’t move—just let the soft hum of the morning fill your ears. The faint breathing next to you, the tiny purring noises of two satisfied cats curled up on the edge of the couch, and the distant chirping of birds outside. 

You tilted your head slightly and saw Chifuyu fast asleep, his hoodie bunched up at the collar, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely across your waist. 

Your heart gave a little jolt. 

The night before came rushing back in hazy flashes—the arguing, the kiss, the tension finally cracking open. You’d both talked for hours afterward, voices soft and low, legs tangled together, like neither of you wanted to ruin the fragile thing that had bloomed between you. 

At some point, sleep had just… happened. You hadn’t meant to stay. Hadn’t even realized it was that late, just like previous times. You shifted a little, trying not to wake him, but his arm instinctively pulled you closer. Your breath caught. 

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled, voice scratchy from sleep. 

You looked up to find him watching you with barely open eyes and the tiniest smile. 

“Couldn’t move without waking you,” you whispered. 

“Didn’t want you to move anyway.” 

Silence settled again. You could feel his heartbeat under your hand. Yours was trying to match its rhythm but failing miserably. 

“I should probably go,” you said eventually, but neither of you moved. 

“Probably,” he echoed. 

Still, no one moved. 

Your hand brushed the hem of his sleeve. “Last night was…” 

He opened his eyes all the way. “Yeah.” 

“Not what I expected.” 

“Same,” he said. “But I don’t regret it.” 

You nodded, then added quickly, “Me neither.” 

He exhaled, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. 

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he admitted, voice quiet. “But I know I don’t want to pretend like I don’t feel anything.” 

You looked at him then—really looked at him. He was tired. Soft. Honest. A little nervous. 

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you said. 

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly your foreheads were touching again, just like last night. No pressure, no rush. 

Just warmth. Comfort. Realness. 

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, gentle and unhurried. 

“You can stay a little longer,” he murmured, saying the same as always. 

You smiled. 

“I think I will.” 

And with that, you both settled back into the quiet—cats curled at your feet, morning light warming your skin, and something brand new hanging between you. 

Not labeled. Not defined. 

But undeniably there. 

Then, a few days later, it started with a text. 

chifuyu ❤️: “Wanna get ramen with me tonight?” 

You stared at your phone for a full minute before typing back. 

You: “As in a date?” 

chifuyu ❤️: “Only if you say yes.” 

You told yourself it was just ramen—nothing to stress over. Just “friends” hanging out… but you knew it was different this time. The way Chifuyu had texted you, the way he’d been acting—it wasn’t just casual anymore. 

You tried to brush it off, but when he showed up at your door, looking effortlessly cool and a little bit nervous, it all hit you. Your heart was doing its thing—racing, thudding, skipping beats you were trying to ignore. 

“You look good,” he said, looking you up and down, his voice a little rough. 

“You too,” you replied, trying not to smile too much. “Ready to go?” 

Chifuyu rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze lingering on you a second too long. “Yeah. I mean—yeah, let’s go.” 

The ramen shop was packed with people, the sounds of sizzling broth and chopsticks clinking filling the air. You slid into the booth across from him, trying to seem casual, but there was this electric tension between you that you couldn’t ignore. 

“So,” you began, tapping your chopsticks against your bowl, “we never really talked about last night.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s there to talk about?” 

You leaned forward, eyes locking with his. “You know what I mean.” 

Chifuyu shifted, his hand reaching for his water glass. “Look, y/n, I—” 

“Chifuyu.” You cut him off, voice firm but soft. “We kissed, we talked. We’re not pretending anymore, right?” 

He froze, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You think I’m pretending?” 

“No,” you said quietly. “But I think you’re scared, and I get it. I am too.” 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your words settling between you. 

Then, he spoke. “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of what happens if I let myself feel this… feel you.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. “Feel me?” 

His eyes never left yours, the raw honesty in them sending a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, like I don’t know how to keep this from becoming something… bigger than we expected.” 

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” 

His lips curved into a small smile. “I think it’s the best thing.” 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation, but you both knew that this moment was different. The kiss, the tension—it hung there in the air like a promise neither of you could ignore. 

As you walked out of the ramen shop, the crisp night air hit you both like a rush, and suddenly it felt like everything was on the edge of something. He stepped closer to you, almost instinctively. 

“I want to do this right,” he said, voice low and steady. “I want to be with you. I want to try.” 

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with everything he’d just said. This wasn’t just a kiss anymore. This wasn’t just a “let’s hang out” situation. This was it. 

You stopped walking and turned to face him, the neon lights from the nearby shop flickering in the distance. Your chest was tight, but your words came out clear. 

“I want that too. I’ve wanted it for a while, Chifuyu.” 

You could see the relief in his eyes, the softness he hadn’t allowed himself to show until now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. 

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning down as if he was afraid of scaring you away. “So we’re really doing this?” 

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to close the gap between you. This time, the kiss was slow—tender, like the weight of everything you were both feeling could finally settle in the space between you. 

When you pulled away, you were both breathless, smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths. 

“I guess we’re doing this,” you whispered. 

“I guess we are,” he replied, his voice soft but confident now. 

And just like that, the tension between you cracked, replaced by something softer—something real. 

The night wasn’t over, though. As you walked together under the streetlights, still laughing about how you’d both somehow ended up drenched in rain, it felt like the beginning of something new. Something that wasn’t perfect or easy, but something that felt right. 

“I’m glad we did this,” he said, taking your hand in his, fingers lacing together naturally. “Ramen’s good, but this? This is better.” 

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, it is.” 

And for the first time, you weren’t worried. You didn’t need to know where it was all going because whatever happened, you were in it together now. 

“You know,” you teased, leaning into him a little, “next time, we’re bringing an umbrella.” 

He laughed, pulling you closer. “Deal.” 

You didn’t need anything else. Just this, just him, and that was enough. 

A few months had passed since everything had shifted between you and Chifuyu. The routine had settled into something comfortable. Most weekends were spent at his apartment or yours, and the cats—Peke J and your cat—had become inseparable. Watching them snuggle together, it wasn’t just the cats growing closer, but you and chifuyu too. 

Tonight, you were sitting on the couch, half-watching a new show, when you heard the familiar sound of your cat meowing. Looking over, you saw her walk over to chifuyu’s lap and nudge his hand with her head. 

“Hey, come on, you’ve got to pay attention to me too,” you teased, tossing a pillow at him. 

But chifuyu just smiled, his hand already reaching down to pet your cat. "She’s my girl now too, y/n." 

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t surprise you. That was what happened, right? Over time, the cats got closer, and so did you. It was one of those things you’d laugh about, but deep down, you knew. They weren’t the only ones getting closer every day. 

You reached for his hand, feeling the comfort of the routine, of him being here. The connection between you was undeniable now, deeper than you’d imagined when this all began. It didn’t need to be perfect. It didn’t need to be complicated. It was just right. 

After a long moment, chifuyu turned to you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “You know, we’ve never really said it…” he started, his voice quiet. 

You met his gaze, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, but I think we both know.” 

He hesitated, then squeezed your hand. “I love you, y/n.” 

Your heart skipped at the words, warm and sincere. A smile spread across your face as you leaned in slightly, his hand still in yours. “I love you too, Chifuyu.” 

It was simple, just those three words, but they carried all the weight of everything you’d shared and everything you were still discovering. There was no grand moment or elaborate confession, just the two of you, right here, where you both belonged. 

The cats—already inseparable—curled closer to each other after yours had jumped off of chifuyu, their content purring filling the silence as you and Chifuyu sat side by side, hands entwined. The world outside was far away, and in this moment, everything felt perfectly in place. 

[cyberrose2001]

TFP Optimus with a goth and metalhead reader. Reader is female. Fluff.

TFP Optimus x Fem!Goth/Metalhead!Reader

Heyy so this was pretty cute to write. I had come up with a couple different ideas but I went with something simple and took creative liberty. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: None, Fluff, reader is human.

Word Count: 1,259

'There's no escape from the thoughts inside my head,

Dark days has taken the best of me,

I can't go on like this.'

Sliding the volume bar up, you relax into the stained lounge not currently occupied with kids bickering for player one. They can be pestering at best. However, you love them a lot, especially Miko. That little rockstar has wiggled her way under your skin more than you would've liked. You can't count how often she's come to you with a new metal song she wanted to destroy your eardrums with, in a good way, much to the chagrin of the rest of Team Prime.

So when your fellow metalhead friend goes home with a big smile on her face and the second guitar she's broken this week, you take the opportunity to relax with your own music. With added earbuds, of course.

'Can you turn back time,

To change what you have done?

To shape who you become?'

Shutting your eyes, you let the rolling drums and metallic melodies flood your senses, the lyrics soothing you better than any therapist you could throw money at.

'DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUUUUU-'

Tap tap.

"GAHH!"

After nearly giving the base a new emergency exit via a Y/n-shaped hole through the roof, you rip off your earbuds to glare daggers at exactly who tapped you on the shoulder in your mid-maladaptive daydreaming.

A very concerned, slightly mortified Optimus Prime stares at you right back.

You have now exceeded your yearly quota for embarrassment in the span of five seconds.

"Oh! Optimus, sorry I-" You fumble for your phone that went airborne to the other side of the lounge, quickly pausing your music and clearing your throat, "Sorry, is there something I can... do for you?"

Optimus recovers from your sudden outburst and clears his vocalizer, "Nothing to be concerned about," He pauses, "I think... but I couldn't help but overhear music coming from your small device."

"Oh, these?" You show him your earbuds, heavily used and on its last string of wire, "Yeah, that's what they're used for. Personalised music only you can listen to from, called earphones."

"Ah, a device that recognises its user," Optimus says confidently, "Would it still be functional if another were to use it?"

"Uh, no," You hold back a soft chuckle. Optimus may be an eons-old robot, but it seems he still has much to learn about human culture, "I phrased that wrong. It sends music directly into your ears. Not only does it sound better, but it's more... respectful to the people around you."

Optimus seemed to understand that, nodding and leaning in to get a closer look at the magical, elusive earphones, "Hm, I see. How interesting, I am not sure if Cybertron ever had these."

You're unsure if you should explain the crucial 'ear' part, but then again, you also had some things to learn about Cybertronians.

"Maybe," You say, giving him an unsure smile, "Would you... like to try them out? I'm not sure how they will fit because, y'know, ears."

The mech perks up at your offer, seeming interested in something other than having a candle-lit dinner and wine with his datapad.

"If you allow me," Optimus holds out a servo, "I would be grateful for the opportunity."

God, he's so sweet. It's like you asked him to accompany you to a high school dance, except it's not. He wants to try out earphones.

"I am sure they will be fine. My comlink had previously been modified to accommodate external inputs."

You smile sheepishly. That's a good enough answer and one you were hoping for. You move from the lounge to step onto Optimus' outstretched servo, and now you realise that you've never actually been held by Optimus. You know he's big, but suddenly becoming inches close to his faceplates and getting a feel for the mech's true size has your mind spinning.

And this piece of heavy metal that holds you like a delicate flower is about to experience true heavy metal.

Optimus studies you for a moment longer, and his optics finally get a proper, up-close look at your unique style, "You look quite... different from the others. Before proceeding with this 'personalised' experience, may I ask why?"

That shouldn't have made your face flush, but it did. Questionable choice of wording, but he's right. You do have a different style even compared to Miko. Instead of colourful streaks of pink and the brash early two thousand' get-up, you chose to adorn yourself with all-black clothing and absolutely no bold colours in your hair. Even your make-up, black lipstick, and harsh eyeliner that would make a Christian mother weep. Optimus would undoubtedly question why you chose a different way of representing yourself.

"Well, I'm sure it's strange to you," You begin, trying to ignore how high off the ground you are, "But it's another way for humans to express themselves. It's more of an aesthetic of sorts, but a way of life for others. I guess you could compare it to Cybertronians choosing their alt modes."

Optimus nods, absorbing the new knowledge like a sponge. For some reason, that was easier to explain than the earphones.

"Ah, so it is a distinct way to present yourself to others—an identity of sorts. We Cybertronians are quite limited in our own modifications, partly due to the war." The mech reaches his other servo to your hair, toying with the ends to admire the softness, "I do not find that strange at all that you would choose to modify yourself this way. It's rather endearing and unique; I admire that about your species."

"That's..." Your cheeks flush once again as you watch him play with your hair, "Kind of sweet." You give him a soft smile, touching his servo near your head. He makes eye contact with you, and that's when your breath hitches, and you clear your throat, "But it's not just clothes or... or other mods we can use - we can use music too."

Optimus nods his helm in familiarity, "Yes, I have become aware of that. Miko can be quite the musician." You're unsure if he's saying that to be polite or if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, I've been trying to teach her, I promise." You chuckle softly, as does he. You continue, unconsciously gripping his servo, "But music is the pathway to the soul, at least for me. It can help me think and even untangle my emotions or just let them be and only soothe. It helps me live in the moment. Like a... a therapist, if that makes sense."

The Prime seems to have connected the dots, "That is why you spend most of your time resting on the couch listening to your music?" Optimus realises his impudence towards you earlier when he startled you, "I see. I apologise for interrupting your therapy earlier; that was rather brash of me."

God, no, he is exceeding unprecedented levels of sweetness now. His optics' soft, apologetic look nearly obliterates you, thinking he had legitimately interrupted a therapy session.

"No, no, Optimus," You suppress a laugh, "It's okay, really. It's a figure of speech. It feels like therapy. Sometimes it's better."

Optimus exhales a gentle sigh, "Apologies. You humans have such expressive figures of speech I have yet to catch onto."   

"It's alright. Now, speaking of therapy." You try to hide your ever-growing affection for him and retract your hand, holding up one end of the small earbud, "How about that personalised experience?"

[ghostxrose]

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Summary ~ You thought it would be just another night at work until your eyes met the crimson ones of Pro Hero Dynamight..

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW 18+ Content, Charaters are in their 20s, FemStripper!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, porn with some plot, oral sex, face riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, WC 9k, idk what else to tag

Note ~ Hello Lovelies! I hope you all enjoy this spicy lil fic I've got for ya here! I'm still not all that good at writing smut stuff so don't expect too much of me, haha. I do want to give a quick thank you for all of the hype I got for this fic from my Sneak Peek post, so thank you Lovelies! Anyway, I'll let all you fiends get to reading! <3

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the back door to the nightclub you work at from the driver’s seat of your car. You weigh the pros and cons of going inside and clocking in for your shift while you sip on your first Red Bull of the night. It’s not that you hate your job or your coworkers, it’s just that feeling that everyone gets before walking into work. That feeling of “ugh, I wanna go back home and be lazy” that settles over you until you shove it away and force yourself to get out of your car. With your bag slung lazily over one shoulder you lock your car, then head for the door that you’ve been dead-eyeing on and off for the last 30-ish minutes.

Once inside the nightclub, you make your way to your dressing room. The bass from whatever song whoever is on stage right now has chosen thumps through your eardrums and chest. You absentmindedly nod your head to the beat as you enter your dressing room. You close the door behind you and lock it, then walk over to the vanity. Setting your bag down, you grab the tablet sitting at the corner of the vanity countertop from its charging port and sit down. You log into the nightclub’s app and clock in before clicking the “songs” tab within the app.

Once it loads up you scroll through the list of suggested songs but none of them really call out to you or feel right for the vibe you create when you get on stage. You tap the search function then get to typing and looking up songs to add to your list for your sets tonight. As soon as you’ve lined up a pretty nice selection of six songs you submit the list, then shut the tablet off and begin prepping yourself for your first set.

You touch up your makeup and loosely curl your hair. After laying out both outfits you brought for tonight, you decide to flip a coin to see which one you should wear first. Heads is for the lacy dark purple bra and thong set with a pair of black open-toed stilettos - simple but still a favorite amongst crowds. Tails is for the slightly more intricately designed deep wine colored bralette and g-string set with dark red cross strap, heeled sandals - another crowd favorite because of the way it’s slightly more.. sheer as far as materials go.

You toss the coin into the air with a small but knowing smirk because you know that it really doesn’t matter what outfit you wear. What people really show up for are the feelings of dark attraction that the physical traits of your Quirk stirs up inside them. Attraction that makes them feel as if it’s taboo or maybe even dangerous to tamper with, but they enjoy the thrill either way.

Your Quirk is called Hellspawn, but you’ve never viewed it in a negative light. Your Quirk is the product of generations of similar Quirks possessed by both sides of your family. You’ve been taught your whole life to be proud of your Quirk and its traits, no matter what people might say or think. You confidently show off your demon-like horns, wings, fangs, and tail every day.

The coin lands on heads so you put on the dark purple outfit and stilettos, taking your time to make sure everything goes on just right. With one final glance in the full length mirror in your dressing room you smile at your reflection, then turn to leave and head backstage. As you walk through the back hallways of the nightclub you begin to feel excitement and adrenaline thrum through your veins. Just because this is a job doesn’t mean that you don’t have fun when you’re up on stage.

“There’s my girl! How’re ya doin’ tonight, Luci?” Sakura, the nightclub’s manager and owner, cheerfully greets you when you get backstage.

“Ask me that after my set,” you say jokingly. “Better yet, when you see me raking in tons of bills just assume that I’m feeling pretty good!” You add on with a smirk.

“Mmm, always love your confidence, Babes! Alright, now get out there and kill it like you always do!” Sakura says with a wink, then focuses back on whatever she was working on her tablet.

You smile to yourself, amped up by the vibes within the club and your rising confidence, and begin stretching to warm your muscles up for your first set of the night. More adrenaline, and the caffeine from your energy drink, hits your veins when you hear the ending of the last song for whoever is on stage and you wait for your stage name to be called.

“Alright everyone, can I get a round of cheers for our lovely Siren?! Don’t worry, they’ll be back a little later!!” Hikari, tonight’s DJ, says after hopping on the mic.

“You all are in for a real treat now, though! Please help me in summoning our resident hot demon-babe to the stage; Lucifer!!” A wild smile pulls at your lips as you take in the crowds hyped up cheers from the other side of the curtain. “Get your sexy ass out here, Luci!!” Hikari excitedly calls for you and you let out a giggle before taking a step forward.

Pulling back the curtain you slowly walk further onto the stage, emerging from a cloud of smoke and into the dark-neon lights shining onto the stage. You smile and wink over at Hikari in the DJ’s booth and she blows you a kiss making you giggle a bit. Looking back towards the crowd you sway your hips as you walk, your eyes half lidded and a sultry, fanged smile on your face. Your body getting into the flow of the music from the first song of this set. The bass produced from Obsolete Ritual makes you vibrate when it hits and it’s a rush that fuels the amped up fire within you that you’ll never get over.

Getting up to the pole at the end of the catwalk, you wrap your hands around it and walk in a slow, teasing circle despite the song’s tempo having sped up. Your eyes scan over the crowd, running across the familiar faces of regulars and lingering for mere seconds over new faces. For reasons unbeknownst to you, your gaze gets stuck on one new face in particular.

Sharp, crimson eyes connect with yours, the stranger’s handsome face set in a scowl. ‘The hell is he scowling in a stripclub for? If he didn’t want to be here, then why did he come? Or maybe he’s just mad that Siren’s set ended? Whatever, buddy, try to enjoy the show.’ You think to yourself as you pull your gaze from Grumpy Hot Guy and officially begin your routine.

As you bend, twist, and dance your way through Obsolete Ritual, Veins, and Descending you find that Grumpy Hot Guy’s eyes never seem to leave you. His scowl remained but his eyes seemed to burn more with every movement of your body. When you finish your set you have to force yourself not to look at him as you spread your wings and bow to the crowd.

The weight of his eyes on you grows heavy as you help the club’s “Money Grabbers” rake in your earnings. Purposefully ignoring him you smile, giggle, and thank customers as they stuff more bills into your lingerie as you work to grab cash from the floor of the stage. You move to head offstage once all of the money has been gathered when you’re stopped by a tug on your tail. You let out a yelp, then quickly turn around to hiss at whoever the perv is that committed the action. A security guard is already handling the guy but he still has the nerve to shoot you an unsettling and creepy smirk. You hiss anyway, then roll your eyes as you stand and quickly leave the stage.

“Christ, are you okay, Luci?? Fucking hate pervs like that bastard! He’s being thrown out as we speak, so don’t worry! How’s your tail??” Sakura frantically asks, immediately mother-henning you as soon as you’re backstage.

You let out a soft giggle and give her an appreciative smile, “I’m fine and so is my tail, but thank you. Handsy people are very annoying but I can handle it and I’m fine.” You say reassuringly and Sakura lets out a relieved breath, then looks you in the eye with a smirk.

“Ugh, what’s with the look, Sakura? Did I really make that much from the set?” You question with a slightly bored look.

“Way off base with the guess there, Babes! Seems like we may have a few heroes in the house tonight, literally! I was watching the cameras when that creep grabbed your tail and I saw a few customers try to get to you, one in particular seemed especially pissed. Any guesses as to who they could be before I tell you?!” Sakura explains with a playful glint in her eyes.

“You know I hate guessing games,” you say in a forced bored tone that hopefully masks your itching curiosity.

“Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Luci! Anyways, Pro Heroes Cellophane, Chargebolt, Pinky, Red Riot, and Dynamight were rushing to be your knights in shining armor! How crazy and exciting is it that a few Top Ten Pros are here at my nightclub?! Wild, right?!” Sakura reveals and you mentally kick yourself for not piecing together that Grumpy Hot Guy with the crimson eyes and spiky blonde hair is Pro Hero Dynamight.

“Uh, yeah, that is pretty crazy.. Uhm, I’m gonna go clean up and get ready for my next set, see you back here in an hour.” You say in a slight daze, the shock from Dynamight not being able to keep his eyes off of you clouding your mind.

“Mhm, gonna go make yourself extra pretty for the Pros, huh?” Sakura says with a devilish smirk.

“Sakura, please, I’m hot enough as it is. If I got any prettier customers would start dropping dead.” You say matter-of-factly after you’ve turned to walk away, hoping that Sakura didn’t see your blush. Sakura bursts out laughing behind you telling you to not kill her sources of income. You wave a playfully dismissive hand in the air before disappearing down the hallway back to your dressing room.

Once you’ve locked your dressing room door you let out a long exhale. You had run into a few of your coworkers on your way back to your dressing room and had to reassure every one of them that you were okay. But not only that, you were reminded again and again that there are Pros out in the crowd tonight via your coworkers gushing over their favorites within the group that came. Apparently a couple of your coworkers are major Dynamight fans and you tried your best to keep your cool when they wouldn’t shut up about how hot he is.

Even now, sitting at your vanity touching up your hair and makeup, you swear that you can still feel his burning gaze on you. Thinking about every time you made eye contact with him during your first set stirs something up inside of you and your reflection shows the blush you can feel heating your cheeks. As you change into your second outfit of the night you can’t tell if you’re nervous or hyped to get back on stage.

As soon as the straps of your heels are tied you make your way towards the mini fridge in your room. You grab the small bottle of Grey Goose and a small can of Red Bull from inside the fridge, then a shot glass from the top of the fridge. Sitting back down at your vanity, you pour yourself a shot and crack open your Red Bull. Downing the shot, you give it a second to settle before you pour a second. After shooting the second shot, you put the Grey Goose back and start drinking your Red Bull.

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of liquid courage, right? It’s just to help me through my next set after that creep touched me.’ You reason with (aka lie to) yourself as you look over yourself in the mirror.

A little over five minutes before you are to be called onto stage again, you make your way backstage. The shots you took earlier have succeeded in helping you feel like the confident and powerful Queen of the Underworld that you are. A cat-calling whistle pulls your attention over to Sakura and she gives you a smirk.

“Thought I told you not to kill my customers, Babes! Gah damn, you look hot! Trying to impress some certain Pro Heroes out there?” Sakura exclaims with a shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “Being hot is part of the job, Boss. I don’t need to impress anyone but myself.” You say as you suppress a blush and look at your nails.

“Damn straight, Babes! Preach! Ugh, sometimes I’d really kill for your level of confidence.” Sakura says in all of her dramatic flare.

You giggle and shake your head as you blow her kiss, then turn towards the curtain. You exchange smiles with Siren as they walk through the curtain to head back to their room and wait for your cue.

“Everybody, shh shh, quiet down for a moment,” You hear Hikari say over the club’s speakers and you wonder what she has planned. You stifle an excited giggle and bounce a bit with anticipation.

“Oh, sexy Queen of Darkness, please grace us with your presence!” Hikari half chants, half moans into the mic, and you have to cover your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Lucifer, hear us and show yourself! We’re on our knees, begging! Get out here you little vixen!” Hikari dramatically cries out and you do your best to not laugh your ass off at her antics.

With smoke clouding the view of the curtain you slip through carefully so you don’t disturb it. Suddenly, you flare your wings out and let your eyes glow, your arms held out to your sides a bit as you slowly walk forward. Spotlights slowly crawl towards you and up your body until you’re illuminated and you flash an “evil” grin at the crowd.

“Oh yeah, baby!!” Hikari dramatically moans out as she starts the first song of this set.

A laugh leaves your mouth and a genuine smile pulls at your lips as you walk to the pole at the end of the catwalk. Each of your steps deliberately heavy so that your breasts and ass bounce to the beat of Hot Demon B!Tches Near U as you walk. You briefly lock eyes with Dynamight and in all of your confidence (liquid and natural) you wink at him before grabbing the pole and getting to dancing.

HDBNU and the second song Slayer are full of fast paced moves and ass shaking, money seemingly raining down like confetti. So caught up in keeping time with the song, you had blurred out the crowd. It wasn’t until the first base drop of your last song, Fill The Void, that you noticed something slightly startling.

You had your back against the pole and slowly slid down it. Your arms stretched above you gripping said pole and your legs spreading as you sank to the ground. Your breathing hitched a bit when your eyes connected with burning crimson, the owner of the eyes standing at the front of the crowd at the edge of the stage. You did your best to hide your surprise but of course Dynamight noticed and he sent you a small smirk.

You smirk back at him, accepting an unspoken challenge of sorts, slowly and sensually standing back up. Wrapping your legs around the pole you do a few tricks before you slowly slide down, feet hitting the floor once more. Swaying and moving your body to the music, you get to the front of the pole where you sink to the floor once again, this time getting on your hands and knees.

You bite your lip seductively and slowly crawl towards the crowd, your tail slowly swishing side to side and your eyes glowing. You stare Dynamight right in the eyes as you crawl and mouth the last few words of the song. You stop about half a foot from the edge of the stage and gently roll onto your back, arching it and sensually running your hands down your body. As the song comes to a close, your eyes glow significantly brighter, you let out a puff of blue-colored fire.

When the song finally ends, you stand up and bow, blowing kisses and smiling at the crowd. You cast one last glance at Dynamight and find that he looks slightly stunned. You smirk, then turn to make your way off of the stage, hips swaying the entire time. Getting backstage, your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible and Sakura definitely notices.

“Christ, Luci, I’m gonna have to call every ambulance in Tokyo after that performance! Shit, I think I’m even having heart palpitations! You fucking killed it out there, Babes!” Sakura exclaims, one hand fanning her face and the other on her chest.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush!” You say, feigning embarrassment, but ultimately giggling.

“You know who's blushing? Everyone out there who just jizzed their pants!” Sakura says, sending both of you into a laughing fit.

“But for real, great work! Now go grab a snack, get changed, and help out the other servers on the floor, please!” Sakura loosely orders with a bright smile.

“Yes, ma’am!” You say with a mocking salute and smile, then head to your dressing room.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Once you’ve changed into the club’s server outfit, aka a top that is basically a bralette paired with what could be the shortest skirt in the world, some cheeky panties underneath, and knee high stiletto boots, you make your way out to the bar.

“There she is; the girl who always makes me regret not bringing an extra pair of underwear!” Ruby, the bartender for the night, playfully exclaims as you walk up to the counter.

“Thought you knew better by now!” You say with a laugh and Ruby rolls their eyes with a smile.

“Alright, Love, here’s a tray of drinks for the group over at VIP table three. I don’t know if Sakura told ya, but the VIP section will be yours tonight.” Ruby says as they carefully slide a serving tray full of drinks towards you.

“C’mon, Rue, of course she didn’t tell me. Do I ever work any other section?” You comment with feigned annoyance and Ruby laughs.

In reality, you love working the VIP section. It’s always full of rich people with too much money to spend and they always tip very generously. It certainly helps that you flirt your ass off whilst serving but everyone does that.

Picking the tray up with the skill and grace you’ve perfected over the years of being in this industry, you send one last smile and wink to Ruby before heading for the VIP section of the lounge. You smile at patrons as you move through the crowd, giggling and thanking them for the compliments they give about your performance. While you truly do love your job, customer service could still be considered a performance and you are flawless at it.. Until you make it past the roped off entrance to the VIP lounge and see the group at table three.

Virtually unnoticeably, your steps falter and you’re thankful that the club's ambience is fairly dim as you take in a steadying breath. Mentally reasserting your confidence, you paint on a cool and flirty smile as you walk over to table three. Your thoughts run through your mind, filling you with the tiniest bit of dread, ‘Of fucking course it’s them.. I mean, they are Pro Heroes, why wouldn’t they be in the VIP lounge.. For fuck sa-’

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Lucifer, or Luci for short, I’ll be one of your servers tonight. I have your drinks here, but let me know if you need anything else.” You say as you set the tray down on the table, your voice coming out impressively even and a bit sultry.

“Yeah, uhm, I’m gunna need your number,” Chargebolt drunkenly slurs out, a dopey smile on his face and hearts practically in his eyes, as he grabs his drink from the tray.

You giggle at his attempt at hitting on you, having to keep from full-on laughing when you notice Dynamight’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye. You smile gently at Chargebolt, “Sorry, babes, but I don’t give my number out to strangers.” You say with a sympathetic pout as you try not to join the rest of the group in their laughter.

“I’m not a stranger, I’m Chargebolt aka Denk- OW! Man, c’mon, you don’t gotta hit me!” Chargebolt whines as he pouts at Dynamight while rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry about him! He hits on anyone who breathes his way! Thanks for the drinks, Luci!” Pinky giggles out over Chargebolt’s whining, said man still on the receiving end of Dynamight’s murderous glare.

“No problem! I’ve got a few other tables to serve but I’ll check back in a little bit!” You say as you pick up the now empty tray and step back from the table.

You hear the rest of the group thank you as you walk away, Dynamight’s grumbled and gravelly ‘thanks’ sending a wave of heat through your body. ‘It should be illegal for someone’s one-worded, grumbled response to sound so sexy, what the fuck?!’ You mentally curse as you walk up to one of the other tables.

The hours fly by quickly as you wait on each of your tables. Every stop at the Pros’ table met with flirty quips from the group, minus Dynamight. In fact, he hasn’t even looked at you the whole time you’ve been off-stage. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t just a little disappointed, but you shove it down to keep your sultry and flirty persona up. You flirtatiously thank the group at VIP table five as you stick the wad of bills that is your tip from them into your bralette and blow them a kiss as you walk towards the bar.

“Hey Ruby, you got the time?” You ask, exhaustion leaking into your tone.

“A little past one. You’re off at 15, right?” Ruby asks as they wipe off a glass. You nod, relief settling over you as well as exhaustion. It was a good shift but you are so ready to go home.

“This tray is for three, right? I’ll take it to them before I head back to my room.” You say, picking the tray up with a bit of a huff.

“Don’t act like you’re doing any favors for anyone, you just wanna see the Pros one last time before you leave.” Ruby teases with a smirk and you feign offense.

“Or I just want to reem them for tips, but go off I guess.” You playfully bite back, then giggle as Ruby raises an eyebrow at you.

Despite your exhaustion setting in more with each minute passing, you quickly make your way to the table of Pros. Pouring the last of your energy into your customer service persona, you set the tray of drinks down on the table and smile at the group.

“Hey Heroes, it has been an extreme pleasure serving and meeting all of you but it is now the end of my shift. One of our other servers will take over for me, I hope that you all enjoy the rest of your night!” The well-rehearsed spiel leaves your mouth with a pleasant tone and warm smile.

“I know I’ll be back if only to watch you dance again,” Pinky says with a flirty smile and wink that makes you giggle.

“Thanks for being so amazing!” Red Riot says with a bright smile as he hands you a fat wad of cash. You feign surprise as you take the cash and thank them all as you shove it in what little space you have left in your bralette. You spare one last glance at Dynamight and suppress a frown when you catch him looking very intently at his phone. You say your goodbyes, then rush to drop the empty tray off at the bar before heading back to your dressing room.

Changing back into the sweatpants and sweater that you arrived to work in, you feel the bone-deep heaviness that comes with being tired. You throw your hair up into a messy bun and slip your shoes on, then clock out from the tablet in your room. Slipping your bag onto your shoulder you leave your room and head for Sakura’s office to pick up your earnings from the night.

“Hey Boss, I’m outta here,” You announce from the doorway of her office.

“Alrighty, Babes! Here’s your check, you made pretty good bank tonight! Might be a little more than usual, awesome job!” Sakura beams as she hands you the envelope with your check in it.

Taking the envelope and putting it into your bag, you smile tiredly at her, “Thanks, Sakura. See ya later.”

“You want an escort to your car? I can call one of the bouncers back.” Sakura offers like she always does.

“Nah, I’m good. You already know that I’m the scary creature that lurks in the shadows.” You joke as you activate your Quirk a bit causing your eyes to glow while you shoot her a fanged smile. She laughs at your antics then bids you goodnight and you begin your walk to the back door of the club.

You step out into the chilly night air and are nearly blinded by a set of headlights coming from a car parked in the spot right in front of the door. You put your hand up to shield your eyes from the bright ass headlights and try to see who may be in the car. Suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and an anxious chill shivers down your spine. From your peripherals you see a hand reaching toward you and you try to move out of the person’s reach. Unfortunately, you’re a tad too late and they are able to grab your wrist and pull you towards them. You come face to face with the creep from earlier and your stomach drops as fear begins to course through you.

“Finally, some alone time with the demon-whore herself. Ya know, I’m a real big fan of yers. Wha’ do ya say we go back to my place and commit some sins, baby?” The creep-ass perv drawls out with a sick smile and your fear quickly turns to anger.

“Fuck off, you corny-ass pervert!” You growl out and you jerk your wrist up to your face, letting out a small breath of blue flames aimed towards the creep’s arm.

“Fucking bitch!” The degenerate of a man roars out as he yanks his hand away, continuing to curse from the pain.

You take the opportunity to whirl around and rush back into the club, locking the back door behind you once you’re inside. The door begins rattling from heavy banging against it and you can hear muffled shouts coming through from the man. You stand there shaking and trying to think of what to do now when you hear the footsteps of someone running towards you. Squinting through the dim lighting you nearly cry at the sight of Sakura and Pinky.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asks, her years of being a Pro making her voice come out steady even though she just ran here, and you nod shakily.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Luci! I should have checked the cams before sending you off! Fuck, I’m so stupid!” Sakura cries into your shoulder after pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s not your fault, Sakura, it’s okay.” You whisper, your voice coming out strained as you try not to cry, and hug her back.

The three of you jump at the sound of an explosion coming from outside the door, and Pinky pushes you both behind her. You all stand there quietly for a few moments until Pinky’s phone goes off. She answers it quickly and you’re only able to catch her end of the call, “Yeah... She’s fine... Ugh, gross, what a bastard… Okay, thanks Red!” She finishes, then hangs up and turns around to you and Sakura.

“Are you sure that you’re okay? You don’t need to be checked out by a doctor or anything?” Pinky questions as her eyes roam over your form to visibly check for any injuries whatsoever.

“No, no, I’m okay. I just want to go home.” You quietly assure the two; Pinky cautiously believes you but Sakura is still suspicious that you’re hiding any sort of pain. A loud bang on the door makes both you and Sakura jump while Pinky just lets out a sigh.

“Unlock the door, dammit!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door and Pinky takes it upon herself to fulfill the demand.

The door swings open to reveal Dynamight, the dim lights from inside the club and the street lamps from outside the only things illuminating his figure. You can still tell that his face is scrunched up into something angry even with the poor lighting if the way he is grumbling about the “fucking creepy pervert” is anything to go by.

“Good job taking down that creep, Blasty!” Pinky cheers with a smile and a thumbs up.

“Shuddup,” Dynamight says with annoyance laced in his tone, but Pinky just laughs it off as she walks past him.

“Miss Sakura, if you could come with me? The police may want to see the security footage or get a statement from you.” Pinky says from her paused position in the doorway.

“Of course! Text me when you get home, Luci! I mean it, like, as soon as you pull into your driveway!” Sakura demands with a stern look on her face as she moves to catch up with Pinky.

“I will,” You promise with a small smile and send her a wave as she leaves.

A few moments of silence pass as you and Dynamight just stand there, an air of awkwardness beginning to settle in before you speak up, “Thanks for.. arresting that guy.” You say quietly, looking at him with a small smile.

“The guy had a pretty bad burn on his arm when we showed up.. Any idea where it might have come from?” Dynamight asks in a low and even tone, his sharp crimson eyes looking into yours.

Your smile drops and panic churns at your stomach, “I-I.. it was self defense! I-I didn’t know what else to do, h-he wouldn’t let go of me!” You fearfully begin defending yourself, only just now realizing that you used your Quirk unlicensed to harm somebody. Your heart begins to race and your breaths start to stutter, mind racing over the fact that you broke the law.

“Calm down, I was just curious. As far as the cops are concerned they think I did it, so you’re in the clear. Even if they do find out it was you, it’s legal if it’s in self defen- Jesus christ, take a deep breath, it’s okay!” Dynamight’s voice raises a bit when he notices you beginning to hyperventilate.

You turn away from him and make your way towards the wall, leaning against it to steady yourself. You close your eyes and take some deep breaths in hopes of calming down. After a minute, you open your eyes and look at anything except the hero in front of you when you turn back around.

“I’d like to go home now, if that’s okay? Or do I need to speak to the police?” You meekly ask as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“I’ll tell them that you’ll go down to the station tomorrow. The security cam footage should suffice for tonight.” He says and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you nod your head.

“Well, thanks again.. Goodnight, Dynamight.” You mumble as you move toward the door to leave.

“I’ll follow behind you.. to make sure you get home safe.” You hear Dynamight’s rushed and raspy words from behind you making you stop in your tracks.

“That’s not necessary, really.. Should you even be driving? You’ve been drinking all night..” You ramble out after you turn around to face him, your heart thundering in your chest when you find that he’s right there. 

“I only had a couple drinks, plus I’m not weak like Dunc- Chargebolt, I can handle my fucking liquor. I’m gunna go get my car, do not leave this parking lot until I get back here.” Dynamight firmly demands before rushing off toward the front of the building.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you shake yourself out of it and make your way to your car. You get in, hitting the lock button as soon as your door closes, and start it up. You spend a few minutes queuing up songs until you hear a honk from next to you. Nearly pissing yourself, you send a glare to Dynamight for scaring you but he just rolls his eyes and motions for you to go.

With a little bit of hesitancy in your gut, you back out of your parking space and begin your drive home. Looking at the routes on a map, it’s not a very far drive, but traffic always turns short trips into longer ones. Periodic glances at your rear view mirror tells you that you’re not the only one annoyed with the traffic. A small giggle leaves your lips every time you see Dynamight puff his cheeks with a huff or yell at some dick speeding past the both of you.

Finally, you arrive at your house, clicking the button on the gate opener and waiting for it to open fully before pulling up into the drive. Dynamight follows right behind you, pulling up next to you but just sitting in his car. You wonder if he’s going to watch you walk into your house then you wonder why he’s doing this at all. ‘There’s no way the Dynamight does this with even half of the victims he helps rescue..’ You think to yourself as you pull out your phone and tap the call function on Sakura’s contact.

The conversation is short and as soon as you hang up you turn your car off and gather your stuff, then get out. You barely register that Dynamight has gotten out of his car before he’s walking toward you. You look between him and his off car with a confused expression on your face.

“You gunna close the ga-” Dynamight starts but cuts himself off when he sees that the gate to your driveway has automatically started closing, the allotted time you have it set to stay open if you don’t close it yourself having run out.

“I didn’t realize you’d even be getting out of your car..” You comment quietly, and albeit nervously, as you make your way to your front door.

Silently, you take your keys out of your bag, placing the magnetic fob on its spot just above the doorknob. The lock makes a small beep and the keypad above the spot for the fob lights up. You sneak a glance behind you to see if Dynamight is looking but his back is to you as he seemingly surveys the driveway. You quickly type in the code for the lock and a chime rings through the air as the door unlocks. You push the door open a bit before turning around to Dynamight, unsure of what to do or say.

“Uhm, so-”

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” He cuts you off with his question as he turns to face you and his eyes scan over your body as you blink up at him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine..” You say, a little bit shocked by his behavior, and he just nods his head as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

A moment of silence fills the air between you two before you blurt out, “Why did you do this? Made sure I got home safe, I mean. You.. you barely even acknowledged me after my performance at the club, and it’s a pretty well-known fact that Dynamight doesn’t really follow up with those that he rescues, let alone escorts them home..”

Dynamight’s jaw clenches and irritation fills his handsome features, and you have to remind your body that right now is not a good time to be getting aroused. His eyes meet yours and promptly melt you with their heat, whether it’s from irritation or something else you don’t know.

“Because, dammit..” He starts, dragging a hand through his hair and letting out an exasperated sigh, his eyes flicking to the ground and glaring at the cement.

“Strip joints aren’t my thing. They’re too fucking loud, there’s too many damn people, and I’ve never had any interest in watching people twirl around on a pole.” He continues, but gets interrupted by the scoff you defensively let out.

But he continues on before letting you get a word out, “But it was stupid Pinky’s birthday and that’s what she wanted to do, so I was dragged into going. I sat at that damn table hating every second until.. Until you got onto that fucking stage. And I know, I know, you probably hear this shit all the fucking time but dammit there was just something about you. I couldn’t tear my damn eyes away from you.”

You’re not sure when it happened but suddenly he is so close to you, crimson eyes sending a blazing heat through your body. Your breath hitches when you catch a whiff of his cologne and your panties are starting to feel much more damp.

“There’s some sort of lust factor to your Quirk, right? There has to be because I never feel like this towards anyone right off the bat,” He rasps out, his voice quieter than before and husky.

“Feel like what?” You whisper, playing the dumb-innocence card heavily as you stare into his eyes.

“Like I wanna fuck you until you’re nothing but a drooling mess cumming on my cock,” He rasps out huskily, his face mere centimeters from yours.

You can’t take it anymore, something in you just snaps and you’re smashing your lips onto his. Your moan mingles with his groan as your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands quickly find purchase on your hips and his fingers dig into the fabric of your sweats as he pulls your body impossibly closer to his. The kiss, if one could call it that, is aggressive with sharp canines nipping each others’ lips and tongues fighting for dominance.

In the midst of your devouring of each other, he backs you into your house, kicking the door shut behind him. You absentmindedly hear the chime of your door locking itself over the rush of blood in your ears and Dynamight’s groans. Your bag ends up crashing to the floor and you both somehow manage to haphazardly kick your shoes off.

You both stumble down the hallway as you lead him to your bedroom, pieces of clothing almost literally torn from each other’s bodies littering the floor as you go. By the time you fall back onto your bed, you’re both in nothing but your underwear. Dynamight stands at the edge of your bed seemingly entranced as you drag your hands along your body up to the front clasp of your bra. You slowly and sensually unclip the bra, making a show out of taking it off even though the Hero’s focus is solely on your tits.

His eyes then meet yours and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks, his voice rough with lust but you hear the slight hesitance.

“I kissed you, didn’t I? Listen, I know I’m a stripper but I don’t usually fuck the patrons, I simply have no interest in it. I want this, I need this, and I’m clean if that makes you feel better. Plus, I’m on birth control, so please Dyn-”

“Katsuki. If we’re gunna fuck then you at least get to call me by my fucking name.” He bites out with fake annoyance, rolling his eyes as he shoves his underwear off.

You smirk up at him, toying with your breasts and moaning his name, just to test it out on your tongue and goddamn is it delicious. His eyes darken yet seem to glow at the same time like a whole new level of lust flowed over him, and you give him your real name.

“So, Katsuki, are you gunna fuck me til I’m a drooling mess cumming on your cock or am I gunna have to call Charg- shit, ahh, fuck-” You try to taunt him but are quickly cut off when Katsuki is suddenly on you, mouthing at one of your breasts while his hand kneads and squeezes the other.

He grinds his hard cock on your clothed pussy, right on your clit, the friction of it all making you pant and moan underneath him. Your hands sink into his hair, your claws scratching against his scalp and pulling more groans from him. He gives both your breasts equal attention, biting and sucking and leaving hickies in the wakes of his lips. His kisses begin to travel down your body until his hot mouth is sucking and licking over your already soaked panties.

It’s a slow kind of torture when he finally decides to drag your panties down your legs and off of your body. Needy whines and breathy begs leave your mouth as he uses one hand to slowly drag your panties down your legs while the thumb of his other hand rubs torturously slow circles into your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.. You that needy for my cock, baby?” He husks out as he settles on his stomach between your legs.

“Y-yes, ah, been wet since, fuck, since my second s-set when, a-ah, wh-when y-you were by th-the stage,” You barely manage to get out between the slow stripes he’s licking up your pussy.

He sends you a cocky smirk before fully diving into your wetness and one of your hands flies to his hair while the other grips the sheets. He drinks you up like a man dying of thirst; going from sucking your clit and flicking his tongue against it to dipping lower and slipping his tongue in and out of your slit. Every ministration pushes you closer to that edge and you can’t stop your body from squirming as moans fall from your lips.

An idea manages to slip into your pleasure-addled mind and you pull at his hair to get his attention. This only results in what could only be described as a growl leaving his mouth and vibrating against your clit, nearly sending you. You fight off your impending orgasm as much as you can manage and try to use your words instead, “K-Katsuki, w-wait! I-I wa-wanna ride your face!” That gets his attention immediately, making him pause mid-lick to lean back a bit and give you a wild smirk.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” His lust-laced voice carries through the room as he shuffles around to get into position.

Once he’s comfortable, his lust-darkened and excited eyes catch yours, a devilish smirk sitting on his lips. You send him your own fanged smirk and carefully climb over his body, the shuffling of limbs resulting in your body facing your headboard as your pussy hovers over his mouth. His hands come up to grip your thighs as you slowly seat yourself onto his hot and waiting mouth. A half moan, half gasp leaves your lips when Katsuki immediately gets back to devouring you and one of your hands buries itself in his hair.

You let yourself drown beneath the waves of pleasure for a moment or two before forcing some clarity into your mind. You smirk down at him and his ministrations falter a bit as you trail the tip of your tail down his torso. He questions your action with his eyes until they widen a bit out of surprise as your tail slowly gets increasingly closer to his cock. His groan vibrates against your clit as you wrap your tail around him and his eyes flutter a bit.

You start jerking his cock slowly, your hips moving in sync, and both of your moans start filling the room. Katsuki becomes more aggressive with his licking and sucking, his tongue delving into you every now and then as you grind against him.

“Hah.. ah.. I-I’m g-gunna f-fucking.. cum..” You pant out between moans, your grip on his hair tightening as the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm begins flooding you once again.

“Fucking hell.. Cum, then, baby. Cum on my fucking tongue.” Katsuki’s muffled command is followed by another groaned out curse, his hips bucking a bit off the bed as you continue to jerk him.

“Aah, Katsuki,” His name comes out as a high-pitched moan as your orgasm hits you. Your pussy clenches around his tongue as you double over, your free hand sinking into the mattress next to his head. He tongue-fucks you through it as your eyes squeeze shut and your nails scrape against his scalp. In your bliss, you hear and feel him let out something between a groan and growl, and you’re not sure if it’s from pain or pleasure.

He continues swiping his tongue against your pussy as whines from overstimulation leave your mouth. Something more begins building in your abdomen and you forcefully lift your hips from his face to keep from potentially drowning the man beneath you.

You're both panting as you stare at each other with the same look of feral lust in your eyes. The moonlight shining in from your window making it look like his eyes are glowing and you feel just a bit envious over how fucking effortlessly attractive this man is. A playful smirk pulls at your lips when you squeeze your tail around his cock and he lets out an unintentional moan. Suddenly, in a blur of motions, you’re flipped onto your back with Katsuki hovering over you, his lips still shiny with your cum.

“Ya know, teasing isn’t nice.” Katsuki comments huskily with a smirk as he grinds his cock against your wet pussy, his tip catching your clit with every stroke.

In an instant his lips are on yours, swallowing your whines and moans. He holds himself up with one arm while the other leaves its position from beside your head. His now free hand runs down your body until he gets to your pussy. His fingers rub at your clit a bit before moving further down where he slips a finger into you. Your moans go up in volume as one finger becomes two and his lips suck hickies into the column of your throat. Your body begins to writhe a bit as his fingers brush over your g-spot and his teeth nip at your hot skin.

Soon enough two fingers turn into three and the tsunami-size waves of your next orgasm crash against the poorly built dam you’ve built. All the while, Katsuki just swallows all of begging and pleading for him to just put his cock in you already. His hot, hard cock that is currently weeping pre-cum all over your thigh.

“I-I think I l-learned my lesson ‘bout teasing, Ka-Katsuki! Oh fuck.. J-just put it in!” You demand when his mouth goes back to sucking more marks into your shoulder.

“Demanding little slut, flip the fuck over.” Katsuki commands after he pulls his fingers from your pussy.

You flip yourself onto your stomach, ass up in the air and tail swishing sensually slowly behind you. You look back at him with a smirk that quickly falters when you meet his gaze dead-on as he licks your cum from his fingers. A cocky smirk pulls at his lips when he finishes and uses that same hand to smack one of your asscheeks making you cry out. Pain and pleasure tingle up your spine and your pussy continues to leak.

“Yeah, kinda figured you were a pain slut by now. Only fitting for someone with a demon Quirk, huh?” Katsuki husks out following another smack to your ass.

Finally, without any further commentation, the fat head of his cock nudges its way between your pussy lips. He enters you slowly, groaning as you pant through the welcomed invasion of every inch of him. When his hips finally meet your asscheeks you understand why he had taken his time fingering you. Of course, you had noticed that his cock is big but you weren’t quite prepared to feel this full. There isn’t a single complaint that runs through your pleasure-melted brain, though. Only praises intermingled with moans fall from your mouth when he gives an experimental thrust.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” Katsuki grits out as he sets a steady pace, moving in and out of you while his hands grip your hips.

“So.. fuckin’.. good.. s-so.. full..” You moan out as you push yourself back on his cock, absentmindedly wrapping your tail around one of his wrists.

The room becomes hot and stuffy, the smell of sex and Katsuki’s cologne on every breath you breathe in. Your eyes are half-lidded, wanting to roll back, and your mouth hangs open as Katsuki begins drilling into you. You nearly cum from the sight of him throwing his head back and groaning at how your pussy squelches and clenches around him.

His cock hits your g-spot over and over, making that overwhelming feeling inside you unbearable. You don’t get anything other than a high-pitched moan out of your mouth as your second orgasm crashes into you. Your eyes roll back as you squirt all over Katsuki’s cock and pelvis. You become a babbling, drooling mess as he fucks your through your orgasm, his pace somehow getting faster. His exhales become grunts and growls as he pounds into you, his hands now gripping you so tightly that you nearly cum again thinking about the bruises they’ll leave.

“Fuck, I’m gunna fucking cum!” Katsuki groans out, his thrusts beginning to falter slightly.

“Ah, please cum, a-ah, pleasepleaseplease,” You mindlessly beg as you cum on his cock again.

“Sh-shit.. I-I.. fuuuuck,” He stutters out as he thrust hard into you one last time before stilling. You moan softly as warmth fills you, your eyes shutting from all of the bliss and pleasure you felt throughout the night.

Katsuki is hunched over you for a moment just trying to catch his breath before he kisses your shoulder and straightens up. He slowly pulls out causing both of you to groan, then he collapses onto the mattress beside you. You lower your hips down to the bed and stretch your body a bit before shuffling over to lay on his chest. With his eyes closed, Katsuki wraps an arm around you and begins lightly rubbing your lower back. It’s a peaceful and calm silence between the both of you, the only sounds being both of you breathing and your house’s A/C kicking on.

“There’s no lust factor,” You say quietly, your chin resting on his pec as you look up at his face.

Katsuki cracks an eye open and tilts his head to peer down at you in confusion, “What?” He rasps out.

“My Quirk, Hellspawn, is just demon traits. I don’t have any succubi traits or powers, so there’s no lust factor to my Quirk.” A teasing smile plays on your lips as you explain.

Katsuki is silent as he glares down at you, his face unamused until his lips twitch and a chuckle escapes him. You let out a few giggles yourself and Katsuki runs a hand down his face.

“Well, shit, there goes that explanation. If you’re telling the truth, that is,” He says as he gives you a look of feigned suspicion.

You gasp with feigned offense as you sit up a little, “I would never lie to a Pro Hero such as yourself! What’s the matter, Mr. Dynamight, you don’t believe in lust at first sight?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at your bad pun.

Katsuki groans as he rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ, ‘lust at first sight’? I can’t tell if that's the stripper in you talkin’ or the succubus.”

“I’m not a succubus!” You exclaim as you playfully push him, a laugh leaving your mouth as you stare down at his smirking face.

“Where’s your bathroom, Succubus? We both need a damn shower,” Katsuki asks as he sits up.

His question feels like it’s muffled in your ears as thoughts of not wanting this to end flood your brain. You wonder if he wants this to be a one night stand. If he’ll get dressed, then ask you to not tell anyone about what you two did tonight. If maybe he doesn’t want the fact that he slept with a stripper to get out and ruin his grand reputati-

“Hey, we gunna get this shower over with so we can sleep or what?” Katsuki’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “I’ll help ya change the bedding and shit after we get done ‘cause I’m sure as hell not sleeping in the puddle you made.” He says with a teasing smirk. You blink dumbly for a moment, then move to stand up to lead Katsuki to your bathroom.

‘He’s spending the night? Maybe he doesn’t want this to end just yet, either..’ You think as you step into the warm water of your shower, Katsuki stepping in right behind you. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you back flush against him, being mindful of your wings. He sighs as he kisses the crook of your neck and you lean back into him, closing your eyes and just enjoying the moment.

Note ~ Welp, there we go, Lovelies! This was a fun fic to write even though I'm not familiar with the workings of a strip club. I did recently watch the movie Hustlers and felt a bit more confident about what I was writing, haha. Hope it was a good read and y'all stay tuned for more fics! Love and appreciate all of you, Lovelies! <3

Divider Credit ~ @tsunami-of-tears

[not-neverland06]

If requests are still open, how about headcanons of Heisenberg with a reader that is a fifth lord. Reader's Cadou allows them to manipulate sound (radio) waves, and go as far as sonic scream. No pressure or rush, just curious on your interpretation :)

Karl Heisenberg x GN!reader A/N: This is only the second time I’ve done HC’s and I’m still struggling to get a grasp on them. Thank you for the request, your prompt was interesting to think about. This is a little short, so if I didn’t give you what you wanted let me know and I’ll try again.

He really doesn’t give a shit about you at first

Unless you go out of your way to catch his attention he’s treating you the same as he treats the rest of the family

Whatever your powers are, he’s gonna assume you’re just as bad as the rest of them and dismiss you

You have to actively make him notice you

It wouldn’t take a lot, maybe one snide comment towards Mother Miranda and suddenly you have value

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You scoffed, glaring down at the horde of Miranda’s worshippers that had surrounded the old church. You’d just been passing through town, picking something up from the duke before heading back up the mountain. 

Heisenberg happened to be there at the same time. You weren’t sure what his deal with the Duke was but it seemed to be complicated. His head perked up as you glared at the villagers. “What’s your problem?” He muttered, tone bitter. 

You nodded towards the villagers, “They are. All their Mother Miranda bullshit, I’m sick of it.” You walked back towards your lair, the old radio tower up in the mountain. It was the best place for you to be with the way your powers functioned, your strongest point. 

He watched as you went, staring at you contemplatively and wondering how he’d missed that hatred in your eyes. 

When he and Alcina start to argue, Miranda will just look at you and you’ll let out a scream so loud bits of drywall fall from the ceiling

It’s painful but it’s effective, you’re essentially used as a mute button when things get out of hand

You tend to avoid the others, keeping quiet and to yourself

When Miranda had first experimented on you, your experience with the sound waves had been less than pleasant

Learning to control them was difficult. The first time you spoke after waking up from her little experiment, you’d blown out your own eardrums. 

Even after you finally harnessed them, you figured that it was better to just be quiet. The times you did speak you kept your voice below a whisper. 

“You don’t talk a whole lot do you?”

You shrugged, “Only when I have to, really.” You sat in his workshop, mostly against your will. He’d invited you to dinner, though it felt like more of a command, and you’d tried to get him to make the journey up the mountain to you. 

He’d, of course, refused because he was a stubborn bastard. You didn’t even want to sit down anywhere, there was oil and blood on nearly every surface. And if it wasn’t covered in that, it was sticky with dried lycan drool. 

At least Moreau managed to keep his quarry clean.

Heisenberg hadn’t stopped staring at you since you sat down, it was starting to bug you.

You don’t normally speak with your family, mainly because you don’t really care for any of them. Having his attention on you was disturbing.

He sets his fork down on his plate and gives you an odd look, “How do your powers work, anyway?”

It was easier to show than it was to explain. You focused on the large pile of metal scraps on his desk and opened your mouth. The noise was nearly silent at first, a high pitched ringing that you questioned if you were actually hearing. 

Then it got louder, the ringing clear now. It was painful to anyone outside of the focused stream of sound waves, but it was lethal once you stepped into the stream. The metal shook, vibrating loudly against his desk. A few toppled over, the rest exploded in a violent display of clashing metal shards and sparks. 

Heisenberg clutched his ears, a small stream of blood leaking from between his fingertips. You want to apologize to him. You’ve always had a little difficulty controlling your powers in such close spaces. 

But he doesn’t look mad, he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain. Instead he’s grinning widely at you, something glinting in his eyes that had you feeling on edge. 

He sees the uniqueness of your powers, the untapped potential for violence and how helpful someone like you could be to his cause

He waters the seedling of resentment you already hold towards Miranda and helps it grow

He whispers words of hate and anger into your ear until you’re just as passionate about taking Miranda down as he is

You two work together, using your odd understanding of radio and sound waves to improve his soldat designs 

Slowly, your loyal followers from the village start to abandon you and move to different lords. Your connection to Heisenberg has soured your influence among the sheep in the village, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

Your status as a lord meant little to you when you had him

He’s intrigued by your powers and loves to experiment with them, but more than anything there’s something soothed inside him because he’s no longer alone

He’s grateful for the support you provide when he feels like he’s just stagnant in his progress taking down Miranda

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Resident Evil Village, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.