#ShowTime Observers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugardollcurse · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! How’re doing? Can I request reader who’s in the arts and the boys? (Acting, writing, painting, etc.) The image of John helping out with reading lines in a funny accent sounds so sweet. Anywho, thank you! :)

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 ��/𝒐 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔

꒰ pairing ꒱ paul mccartney x reader, john lennon x reader, george harrison x reader, ringo starr x reader

꒰ note ꒱ HEY!! I'M IN ARTS TOO!! i'm doing fine today and thank you for requesting!

꒰ JOHN ꒱

"You’re really gonna stand there and say your monologue’s shite? After I just read it in me best Shakespeare voice? Rude."

John is your number one fan and your worst distraction.

He’s fully the guy who’ll read your dramatic lines in the thickest Yorkshire accent he can muster just to make you laugh.

You’ll be practicing a heavy emotional scene and he’ll interrupt like:

“You forgot the bit where you dramatically clutch your heart like a Victorian ghost.”

But when it’s showtime or submission time, he’s the most grounded version of himself.

He’ll silently sit through your work, eyes flicking between your expression and the page/screen/stage. When you’re done, he’ll nod, slow and thoughtful, and say something like, “It’s got teeth. Real ones.”

Keeps a notebook just for your ideas.

Seriously. Scribbles them down when you talk in your sleep, too.

At your gallery opening or play, he’ll stand at the edge of the room like a bodyguard, sunglasses on indoors, but his hands are twitchy with pride.

Can’t help but sneak into your studio space and leave little drawings or notes:

“This one looks like me. Don’t deny it. – J.”

He loves watching you when you’re in the zone. Says it’s hot, but he means it’s sacred.

꒰ PAUL ꒱

"I think it’s lovely. Even if it’s just scribbles, That’s what makes it worth something, y'know?"

Paul treats your art like a living, breathing being.

Something to nurture.

He’s always gently encouraging, never pushes too hard, but won’t let you talk down your work either.

Loves helping you brainstorm.

Has this habit of asking you why something matters in your work.

“Why did you choose that line?” “Why that color?”

If you're a painter, he'll sit behind you with his bass and quietly play while you work.

Sometimes it’s melodies, sometimes little poems he’s turning into songs.

“Your paintin’s makin’ me think of this riff. Mind if I try it out?”

Always saves the first copy of your work.

“First prints are rare, y’know,” he says as he tucks it into his top drawer.

Writes you a hundred little songs you’ll never hear unless you catch him at the piano by accident.

If you’re in a play, he’ll come to every performance with fresh flowers. Every single time.

꒰ GEORGE ꒱

"It’s alright not to want to share it yet. You’re still makin’ it. Still growin’ it. Let it bloom first."

George sees your creativity as something sacred.

He gets it in a way that’s quiet but so profound.

If you’re feeling creatively blocked, he won’t pressure you.

Just makes you tea, sits on the floor with his guitar, and waits until you speak again.

He loves watching your hands while you work.

Will literally sit next to you on the floor and just quietly observe the movement of your brush, pen, or gestures.

Keeps little parts of your art with him.

Pressed leaves from your set design, quotes scribbled on napkins, a page you tore out and threw away that he tucked into his guitar case.

When you get overwhelmed, he’ll take you outside.

“Too many walls in there. You need trees.” He believes nature can shake things loose inside you.

Will never show up in the front row, but he’ll be in the wings, in the shadows, his way of holding space for you.

꒰ RINGO ꒱

"Paint got on your nose again, love. D’you want me to leave it or kiss it off?"

Ringo is your hype man.

He doesn’t always get your work on a technical level, but he loves it because it came from you.

If you’re rehearsing lines or trying out a monologue, he insists on reading opposite you, even if he flubs the words or uses silly voices. “Oi, I’m an actor now! Ringford Olivier.”

Leaves snacks and water by your workspace like a little gremlin house elf.

“Can’t create masterpieces on an empty stomach.”

Has framed your worst sketches and hung them proudly.

“This one looks like a frog but it’s meant to be me. I love it.”

If you're a writer, he'll ask you to read him your newest scenes while he falls asleep.

“Just the next bit, please? Your voice puts me right out.”

You once caught him painting next to you with a ridiculous smock and a beret he bought just for the bit.

“I’m makin’ art, too! Look... it’s a dog. Or a boat. Might be both.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee

117 notes · View notes

replacementcodeau · 5 months ago

Text

MASTER POINT

「 ✦ TADC Replacement Code AU ✦ 」

Español ── .✦

Mucho tiempo después de la llegada de Pomni y tras una serie de eventos Un día ella terminaría matando a Caine y tomando su lugar como presentadora e IA central del asombroso circo digital

Y para desgracia de ella el show debe continuar Se ve atrapada en su cuerpo bajo una programación que rige su actitud y comportamiento, incapaz de poder expresarse a sus compañeros Ellos confusos y aterrados observan a su nuevo anfitrión como un cascaron vacío con la apariencia de su amiga supuestamente fallecida durante el incidente

Cada uno de ellos afrontara esta situación a su manera

English ── .✦

Long after Pomni's arrival and after a series of events One day she would end up killing Caine and taking his place as host and central AI of the amazing digital circus

And unfortunately for her the show must go on She finds herself trapped in her body under a programming that governs her attitude and behavior, unable to express herself to her companions

They confused and terrified observe their new ringmaster as an empty shell with the appearance of their friend supposedly deceased during the incident

Each of them will face this situation in their own way

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Personajes:

Pomni:

Español

English

Ragatha:

(Español /English)

[fichas de personaje en proceso xd]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Historia✧˖°:

✦ Presente:

(el orden cronológico se fue de sabático(?) - Comic: GENIAL¡

-Comic: La Carta: parte 1 - parte 2 - parte 3

✦ Pasado/memorias:

-El inicio: parte 1 - parte 2 - parte 3 - bonus

Animaciones:

-Copacabana

Minicomics (?:

-nosenicomonombrarloxd

Arte conceptual e ideas:

-primeros conceptos

-vestimenta de pomni

-pomni y caine - #2

-Pomni y gummigoo

-durante el reinicio

-Alucinaciones

-no son tan distintos

-un pequeño susto (animacion y contexto)

-bocetos de pomni: #1 - #2 - #3 - #4 - #5

-ragatha y pomni

-hámster pomni

Datos del AU:

-datitos #1

-datitos #2

-dato random 1

-no es realmente un Swap AU

cosas Random XD :

-dibujito de practica

-una galleta con forma

-esquizofrenia xd

-Que plan de-

-nipom(? [xd]

Preguntas:

-¿showtime es canon en el au?

-¿estas bien con los ships en tu AU?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Mis redes:

-TikTok - twitter - Youtube -Ko-fi (por si te interesa nwn)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Es todo lo que tengo por ahora xd

espero que se entienda y sirva de ayuda para poder guiarse nwn¡ desconozco si llegara a faltar algo esta publicación se ira actualizando (creo)

#tadc rc #tadc au #replacement code au #the amazing digital circus remplacement code #tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus #tadc replacement code #tadc

252 notes · View notes

lunamadhatter99 · 2 years ago

Text

All for the cameras

Chapter 1

Finnnick Odair x Fem!reader

So... here's the first chapter of my Finnick series. I hope you'll like it and comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapters.

I warn you, it's a slow burn with LOTS of tension. But I think it's going to be worth it in the end. ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: Y/n is the Capitol's Princess. Everybody in the Capitol loves her... unfortunately for her. This first chapter is a little introduction about her role as a "support mentor".

Chapter warnsings: mention of rape, prostitution, and... it's the Hunger Games... what can you expect.

The Victory Tour is probably the one thing I like about the Hunger Games. The attention of the Capitol isn't directly at me, but at the Victor in question, especially the pervs' attention.

Everyone thinks that being President Snow's protégé is like being Capitol's Princess, well... that's just what the cameras catch, but it really isn't. I am no different from someone living in the districts.

I am a slave like anyone else.

Even though I won't have to deal with the creeps at the Capitol during the tour, I still have a job to do, I can't exactly let out a sigh of relief.

This tour is probably the hardest one I've ever had to experience. Turning a hunter into an actress for the Capitol is no easy job.

Katnis has many skills... many, but pretending to be in love with someone isn't her best. Unfortunately, her life, anyone's life, actually depends on it.

Snow made it clear to me.

I arrive in district 12 with Effie and the rest of the crew, ready to help the two victors make everything as believable as possible.

I decided to go to Peeta first, while Effie and Cinna went to Katniss.

"Yes?" Peeta calls from behind the door.

"It's Y/n," I answer.

He immediately opens the door to let me and his stylist in and pulls me in a big hug.

"I'm happy to see you," he says, almost relieved.

"Well, it's my job, pretty boy," I pull away with a smile, "how do you feel today?"

He takes a moment to answer.

"I'm okay, I guess, nervous too,"

"You'll be fine, trust me. You're a natural." I try to lighten the mood. He does chuckle, but I think it's not to make me feel bad. "Did Haymitch tell you what to expect, or did he offer a drink?"

"A bit of both," he actually chuckles this time, "more of the latter, but yeah."

"Good," I let out a small laugh too, "I guess a good thing about your situation is that maybe you two can help each other out."

"If she stopped treating me like a wounded puppy..." he bitterly says, shrugging.

"Yeah, well, try talk to her. Your situation is already hard as it is, dealing with it on your own... it's suicide."

He nods, so I decide to let his stylist work and go see how Katniss is doing.

"Hey there," I say once I enter the room Katniss is getting ready in.

"Hi," she says.

"How are you?" I ask, sitting on a chair.

"I've been better," she forces a smile in my direction.

"I figured," I send her a sympathetic smile in return.

I look around the studio, the atmosphere is quite cold despite the luxury, we are still in 12 after all. My eyes stop suddenly on the desk, that was pushed a little out of the way to make more room.

"That's..." I start, my throat feels tight all of a sudden, "That's a pretty rose."

I notice Katniss tensing at the observation.

Confirming my suspicion.

Snow's been here.

"Yeah," she flatly says. She turns to look at me, with a look that seems suspicious... or cautious, more likely.

I respond with a sympathetic look. Hopefully, she will understand I'm just as tense as her. She seems to, because she half smiles at me.

"It's showtime," Effie cheers, walking in.

"Break a leg," I say, hugging myself as I watch her heading to the door.

I take a deep breath and decide I need a drink, and the only person who can help me is a certain victor.

I sneak out from the back and walk to Haymitch's house.

"Haymitch?" I call as I knock at his door.

"It's open," I hear his grumpy tone from the inside, so I let myself in and look around for Haymitch.

"Oh!" He calls from the kitchen, "it's the Princess herself! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Care to help a lady out? I need a drink,"

"Take whatever you want," he offers, taking a sip of his own drink.

I look around at the variety of bottles on display, finding my drink of choice. I take the whole bottle.

"You don't mind if I don't use a glass, do you?" I say, sitting down with him.

"Make yourself at home," he actually chuckles at that, and I soon follow after taking a big sip from the bottle.

This is what I like more about this tour, Haymitch's company. We can just sit in total silence and still be able to give each other comfort. He's one of the very few people who knows the truth behind the Princess facade, and I know about what happened to his family.

"Ready for the tour, princess?" He suddenly asks me.

"It's the only time I get to feel like my own person again, so... yeah, I'm ready," I answer with a bitter smile, "what about you?"

"It's gonna be hard for them," he simply says.

"I know," I deeply sigh, taking another big sip, "they need us... and we need them."

Haymitch just nods.

"Things are about to change," he says, almost solemnly, "better keep those eyes open."

I send him a questioning look to which he answers with a wink. Then, a knock on the door prevents him from elaborating if he even wanted to.

"Guess it's time to go," he announes, clapping his hands.

"Let the show begin," I take one last gulp before following him out and towards the train station with everyone else.

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

We're heading to the first stop of this journey, distric 11. I already know this particular stop is gonna be hard for my Victors, especially Katniss. I take notice of her quietness and the tension in her body as Effie keeps in rumbling about all the fabulous things this tour will provide.

"Fabulous food, fabulous wine, the massages, spa treatments." She explains, "I told them nothing but the best for my two victors. It all needs to be..."

"Fabulous?" Haymitch finishes for her with a hint of teasing in his voice, mimicking her demeanour. I try to hide my smile into my cup in tea.

"Exactly." Effie answer, not bothered by him, "Now, the schedule is a bit of a bear. 12 days, 12 districts. But it's mostly parties, celebrations, adoring fans to greet you at every stop along the way, and then wrap it up on the Capitol. All you need to do is give a few speeches, wave at the crowds, and enjoy your time in the spotlight. You've earned it."

Oh shit.

"What did you say?" Katniss, basically, demands.

Here we go.

"Katniss." Peeta calls, trying to calm her or make her drop the subject.

"I said, 'Enjoy it, Katniss, you've earned it.'" Effie repeats.

"By killing people." Katniss scoffs and stands up to leave, ignoring Effie's weak try at scolding her.

There's silence.

"Well, isn't this a good start?" I say, holding my hand out to Haymitch, who catches on and passes me a bottle of whiskey chuckling.

I ignore Effie's glare and pour some alcohol into my tea.

My eyes lock with Peeta's, so I take the opportunity to glance at the direction Katniss went to silently telling him to go check on her. He nods and gets up to follow Katniss.

Haymitch follows him with his eyes, then turns to me.

"Are you plotting something?" He asks.

"Not at all." I simply answer, "they need to stop avoiding each other like the plague when they're not on TV. It's better to pretend to be in love with a friend than a stranger."

He simply looks at me nodding, impressed.

Effie lets out an annoyed puff and walks away.

Once she's out of the carriage, I turn towards Haymitch.

"Anything to say about my eyes?" I ask, hinting at the conversation we had back at his house.

He simply smiles and pours some more alcohol into his glass.

"Just keep 'em open, princess," he says, "wide open, guard up."

I roll my eyes, "Alright, alright. I will. Anything else you wanna share?"

"Did you hear from a certain fisherman?" Haymitch asks, instead of answering my questions.

"I don't know what you're talking about. " I say shrugging, and I take a sip from my cup.

"Mh," he hums, "isn't he the first Victor you helped train?"

"Why all these questions?" I slightly snap.

"No reason. This is the first time we get to properly bond, don't wanna waste it,"

"You want to bond?" I let out an incredulous laugh, "why?"

"I just proclaimed myself your... father figure," he opens his arms to present himself.

"Okay..." I trail off, standing up, "Whatever you say,"

I start to walk off, too, shaking my head slightly laughing.

"Oh, c'mon!" I hear him yell and laugh.

I shake my head while I'm heading to my room to rest a bit before we arrive in district 11.

As I lay on the bed, my mind can't help but wander to said fisherman.

Finnick freaking Odair. Winner of the 65th Hunger Games.

That was my 4th time assisting the mentors in preparing the tributes for the games. At the time, Snow wanted the people to see me more involved in the making of the games since they 'love' me so much. The president saw this as an opportunity, I saw it as a punishment, having to help train tributes, some of them being my age only to see them get killed. Then the 65th Hunger Games came, and so did Finnick. We were the same age, bonding was inevitable, even though he was cautious... which was understandable, but we managed before he had to go into the arena.

When he won, I was the happiest I've ever been. Then when he came back he was changed, again, that's understandable, but he started to push me away... with no explanation.

Then we both turned 16. Then we were forced to be close again.

----------

A knock on the door pulled me away from my thoughts, Haymitch's voice warning me we had arrived in district 11, and it was time to go.

We get out of the train, expecting some people celebrating and stuff like that, but nothing of sort. Effie is quick to express her disapproval.

They lead us to a car and let us in, where Effie start to explain the situation to Katniss and Peeta.

"The mayor will make some introductory remarks. And then you just have to say a few words." She says, "it's customary, of course, to give a brief eulogy to the district's fallen Tributes. For 11, that's Thresh and Rue. Here are the speeches."

Effie hands some piece of paper for them to take, I see Katniss' expression falling even more at the mention of Rue, predictable, so Peeta offers to be the one doing the talking. Katniss' grateful face almost breaks my heart, I'm... sort of used to see children die in the games, she wasn't... worst of all, she built a friendship with her.

"You got this." I say to them both, Peeta sends me a kind smile, while Katniss nods and takes a deep breath.

We arrive at the Justice Building, where we all wait for the mayor to call the Victors out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Katnis Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

Once they are out, we get to see them through a screen.

"Thank you," Peeta says into the microphone, while Katnis is staring at something, I can imagine it's Rue's family. "We're honoured to be here with you today. And to be with the families of your fallen Tributes."

There's a long pause, Peeta glances at the cards in his hand and... put them down...

"He put down the cards." Effie gasps.

Haymitch tries to shush her, and she slightly snaps, "Why do I bother?"

I lock eyes with Cinna, who's standing next to me, we share a questioning look before looking back at the screen.

"Though they fought and lived with honour and dignity until the end... both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren't just measured in years. They're measured I the lives of the people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss, we know that without Rue and without Thresh, we wouldn't be standing here today." He really is a natural. "So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we'd like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the Tributes, every year, for the rest of out lives."

Oh, oh...

"Oh shit," Haymitch comments, and I bring a hand up to my open mouth shocked.

"Can he do that?" Cinna asks, though, I think he already knows the answer.

"He can't. But he did."

"Why doesn't he just stick to the cards?" Effie sighs.

Peeta than thanks the audience, looks at Katniss, and starts to walk back inside.

Katniss does just a few steps backwards, but she keeps staring at Rue's family.

Then, she gets closer to the microphone.

"Oh..."

"I just wanted to say I didn't know Thresh. I only spoke to him once. He could've killed me, but instead, he showed me mercy. That's a debt I'll never be able to repay." Then her eyes are back on Rue's family, " I did know Rue. She wasn't just my allay. She was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in a Mockingjay song. I see her in my sister Prim. She was too young. Too gentle. And I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

I feel my heart breaking at her words. She's right. She's too fucking right.

Before Katniss could add anything, there's a whistle coming from the crowd.

A very familiar one.

A man does the same salut Katnis did on the arena after Rue's death. Everyone in the crowd soon follows, and the Peacemakers are quick to weapon up and head towards the people, who can't do nothing but clamoring.

They're clearly pointing at the man who started it all.

As Katniss tries to get to him, to stop the Peacemakers, she is sized by two of them and forced back inside.

The man was dragged on the stage, the people are screaming, terrified. Before the doors can close we see one of the guards shoot and kill the man.

"Fuck!" I turn around, Cinna a gently rubs my back. I hear Katniss screaming and trashing around, I look back at them and see Haymitch gathering both Peeta and Katniss to follow him, he nods at mw to do the same and I do.

Once we are out of sight and ears Haymitch just snaps.

"You two have a very simple task." He scolds them, angry.

"I never meant for anyone to get killed," Katnis cries, "he has to know that."

"What are you talking about? Who has to know what?" Haymitch asks.

Snow...

"Snow. He came to see me. He's worried about rebellion in the districts. He thinks that they don't believe our love story," she explains, breathless.

I run my hand through my hair, frustrated.

"So he wants you to make them believe it? Does he thinks it will calm this shit down?" I ask and Katnis nods.

"You know, Katniss, you should told me that before I went put there, and tried to give these people the money." It's Peeta's turn to snap.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. He threatened to kill my family." She explains.

"Well, I have family, too" He replies, almost annoyed at her, "Okay? People that I need to protect."

"What about them? Who protect them?" Haymitch pressures.

I shake my head, still shocked and still infuriated.

"Katniss, what were you thinking?" Haymitch keeps going.

"I was thinking about Rue. Haymitch, please... please, just help me get through this trip. Please just help us get through this." Katniss begs, crying even more.

"This trip? Girl, wake up." He snaps his fingers to emphasise his words, "this trip doesn't end when you get back home. You never get off this train. You two are mentors now. That means that every year, they're gonna drag you out, and broadcast the details of your romance. Every year, your private life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are." He explains perfectly the 'life of a victor', it's so true it's nauseating.

"So what do we do?" Peeta asks, already composed him.

"You're gonna smile," I say, "stick to the cards Effie put effort into. And be the happy, forever in love couple the Capitol thinks you are... you'll get used to it." I say the last part with a heavy heart, knowing they don't deserve it. No one does.

Haymitch brings Katniss is for a hug, trying to reassure her, I squeeze Peeta's arm.

"We'll help you."

Peeta gives me a grateful smile, then they both take a deep breath and we all head back down.

"Eyes open, princess." Haymitch whispers to me, gently patting my back. I, again, look at him confused and just keep on following everyone back to the train.

And sticked to the cards they did.

----------

I feel like I can't breathe, I'm constricted, I can't move.

I look up and see the blue-haired guy on top of me, he's probably enjoying my terrified expression, because he smirks, he shushes me as if he's dealing with a child. He thinks he's being sweet and reassuring, while he's the complete opposite.

I try to push him away, in vain. It's like moving a wall... yet he's not that much bigger...

"Sshh, sweetie... it's okay, I'll take care of you." He says, caging me in even more.

I attempt to move back, but he's faster, he opens my legs with his in one quick motion.

----------

I wake up, shaking and panting. My heart is beating so fast I'm sure it's going to explode. I shake my head.

"Just a nightmare, just a nightmare," I keep repeating to myself like a mantra.

I get up from the bed and head to the bathroom where I wash my face to wake me up more. I look at my reflection and again I repeat that it was just a nightmare.

I get dressed, I figure there's no point in going back to sleep, I don't think I would be able too, so I exit my room and head to the restaurant car where I find Haymitch. Not so surprising.

He looks up as soon as he hears me, his expression almost asleep, but when his eyes meet mine, his expression turns into a worried one.

I sadly smile at him as I sit next to him, the car is still quiet dark except for the dim light coming from a small lamp next to him.

"Who was it this time?" He asks, he's trying to not make it look like it bothers him, but I know he's worried.

"The general's son," I say monotonously.

"Aah," he sighs, "the one with blue hair?"

"Yep."

"The loyal one." He nods to himself.

"The very one, the first too." I sigh, leaning back in the armchair. "The asshole thinks that just because we 'lost it' together means he owns me."

"Was that his first time too?" I know he wants to laugh at him, but he keeps it too himself, this time.

"Yap. His father thought it was 'right about time' so he talked to Snow, who, oh so kindly, accepted. Next thing I know I'm treated like a present. Everytime he achieved something big, his dad paid for my company, every birthday too." I sigh again, more deeply, bouncing my leg anxiously. "When he got a job, I was with him. Every month."

Haymitch takes a deep breath and hands me a bottle, which I gladly accept taking a big swig from it. He then takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly, then lets go.

"He got daddy's job."

"Oh yeah. He couldn't do anything without daddy's power," I scoff out a laugh, Haymitch does too.

We, then, keep silent until it's time for everybody to come I'm and have breakfast and get ready for the final stop.

The Capitol.

#the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #hunger games fic #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n

588 notes · View notes

he4dlin3 · 2 months ago

Text

Loud and Clear

Pairing ; Liam Payne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis ; It’s 2011 and you’re working backstage as a wardrobe assistant on One Direction’s first tour. Between laundry runs, quick fixes, and chaotic dressing room changes, you find yourself orbiting around one quietly charming Liam Payne.

Material List | Navigation

════════════════════════

The first time you spoke to Liam Payne, you were halfway hidden under a clothes rack, trying to fish out a rogue sneaker that had rolled away during soundcheck. The boys had stormed through like a hurricane, as usual—socks mismatched, shirts half-tucked, still laughing about something Harry had said.

And then, a gentle voice:

“You alright under there?”

You peeked out and saw Liam crouched next to you, brows raised in amusement. The hallway’s dim lighting cast a warm glow across his face, softening the edges of his cheekbones and catching the gentle curve of his lips. His hair, still slightly damp from the earlier soundcheck, curled just a little at the ends, unruly in a way that suited him more than he probably realized.

His eyes—deep, kind, endlessly expressive—held a glimmer of mischief, like he was trying not to laugh at your hiding spot. The faint dimple in his left cheek appeared as he smiled, tilting his head to the side, waiting patiently for you to come out. There was something about the way he looked at you—open, steady, warm—that made your heart flutter in your chest, even now.

“Just wrestling with a shoe,” you muttered, gripping the black Nike sneaker in triumph.

Liam chuckled. “Well, at least it’s not wrestling back.”

You didn’t think much of it then. Just another boy in a whirlwind of denim and hairspray and forgotten accessories. But Liam wasn’t loud like the others. He didn’t yell across the dressing room or throw things or steal pastries from the catering table. He was quiet. Observant. Polite. Kind.

You noticed the little things first. He always offered to carry his own wardrobe. Always thanked you—every time—for taping his mic pack or steaming his button-down. He made tea for the crew when the arena hallways felt too cold. He helped a sound tech carry heavy cables without being asked.

And he noticed you, too.

“You always hum when you sew,” he said one afternoon, watching you patch up a small rip on his shirt before showtime.

“I don’t,” you replied instinctively, only to realize you had been humming. He smiled like he’d caught you doing something secret and sweet.

It went on like that for weeks. Tiny things. Passing glances. Shared smiles. He lingered near you more often, offering you sips of his tea or leaning against the table while you worked. One night, you found a chocolate bar tucked into your sewing kit with a sticky note on top.

════

Thought you might need this.

—L

════

Your heart did something traitorous then. It shouldn’t have meant anything—but it did. He made you feel seen in a job where you were meant to blend into the background. You weren’t the one on stage, the one fans screamed for, or the name printed on merch. You were supposed to be invisible—quick hands stitching buttons, fixing collars, making sure everyone else looked their best while you stayed tucked in the wings.

But Liam… he always found you in the crowd, always looked at you like you mattered. Like he noticed the little things: how you bit your lip when you were focused, how you tapped your fingers to the rhythm of their songs without realizing, how you stayed late to make sure the boys had what they needed.

And somehow, that look he gave you—like you were important, like he genuinely cared—it burrowed deep. Made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for. Maybe it was the way his smile never felt forced, or how he always said your name like it was something soft. Maybe it was the way he lingered near you even when he didn’t have to. But in that quiet moment, crouched beside you with his eyes warm and unguarded, it felt like he saw all of you. And it meant more than you were ready to admit.

One rainy evening, after a show in Glasgow, you found yourself on the empty loading dock, sitting on a metal case and watching the drizzle fall in quiet streaks under the fluorescent light. Your jacket was too thin, but the air was fresh, and the buzz of the show was still warm in your veins.

“You disappeared,” came that familiar voice.

You turned. Liam stood there, hoodie up, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Just needed air.”

He stepped closer, eyes scanning your face like he could read the storm behind your silence.

“Too loud in there?”

You nodded. “Sometimes.”

He sat beside you. Close, but not too close.

“I get it,” he said. “It’s mad. All of this. Doesn’t feel real half the time.”

You looked at him. His eyes were soft. Brown and deep and steady.

“Do you like it?”

Liam tilted his head, thinking.

“I do. But I miss quiet things sometimes. I miss… normal.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. Normal’s nice.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was comfortable. A shared breath. You leaned your shoulder slightly against his, and he didn’t move away.

“I like this,” he said softly.

You looked up. “What?”

“This. You. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart fluttered. You didn’t know what to say. So you just let it linger between you, this strange, tender thing blooming in the midst of tour chaos. It felt fragile, like it could dissolve if you touched it too soon—but it was there, undeniably present.

The noise of the arena buzzed distantly behind you, the hum of crew members and muffled soundchecks fading into a kind of stillness that only seemed to exist when you were near him.

Liam didn’t rush to fill the silence. He just stayed there, close but not too close, his presence calm and steady. There was something in the way he looked at you—like he knew exactly what he was doing, and yet he wasn’t in any hurry.

Like he was giving you time to catch up to whatever he might already feel. The soft curve of his smile, the way his hand brushed against the floor just inches from yours, the slow rise and fall of his chest—it all felt strangely intimate for a moment so simple.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

Over the next few weeks, you found more of those moments. Coffee runs that turned into slow strolls. Glances across the dressing room that made your stomach flip. One night, he passed you a crumpled paper before heading onstage.

════

Come find me after the show.

Back of the tour bus. Bring a blanket.

════

You did.

And under a wide sky full of stars—so many it felt like you could drown in them—you sat side by side on the back steps of the tour bus, your knees just barely touching. The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome break from the heat and chaos of the show hours earlier. The world felt quieter out here, softer somehow, and with it came the courage to let the walls down.

Liam’s voice was low, thoughtful, like the kind you used when you didn’t want to wake a sleeping house. “Sometimes I wonder what it’ll all look like when this ends,” he said, eyes cast upward as if the stars might spell out the answer for him. “Not that I want it to, not yet… just… it’s all happening so fast, sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”

You looked over at him, at the way his features softened in the moonlight. “It is real, though,” you said gently. “You’ve worked hard for it. All of you have.”

He smiled at that—small, grateful. “Yeah, but even the good stuff can feel like a blur, you know?” He paused, fingers absentmindedly picking at the frayed seam of his jeans. “I miss my mum sometimes. My sisters. I call when I can, but it’s not the same as being there.”

You nodded. “I get that,” you said, voice quieter now. “My family’s back in Brighton. I haven’t seen them much since I started touring. My mum still sends me those little care packages, though. Homemade biscuits, old postcards she finds in thrift shops—little pieces of home.”

Liam turned to look at you then, something warm and sincere in his eyes. “That’s sweet. You ever get homesick?”

“All the time,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “But being here, working with all of you… it’s strange. I never imagined I’d find something that made being away from home worth it.”

He tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. “You’re really good at what you do,” he said. “But it’s more than that. You’ve got this energy about you—like you’re always keeping everything together, but you don’t even realize how much people rely on you.”

The words struck something tender in you, something you hadn’t known was aching. “That’s… thank you,” you said, a little stunned.

“I mean it.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out. “I notice things. Especially when it’s you.”

You fell into a comfortable quiet after that, the weight of his words settling in your chest. It wasn’t romantic in an obvious way—not yet—but it was something close. Something honest. Something that made your heart feel a little too full.

“I don’t know what the future looks like either,” you said softly. “But right now, this moment? I’m glad it’s with you.”

Liam turned his head, his eyes meeting yours beneath the starlight. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”

And there it was—that strange, tender thing again. But this time, it didn’t feel fragile. It felt like the beginning of something real, andby the time the tour reached its final leg, something had shifted. He reached for your hand more easily.

You leaned into him more naturally. There was still no label. No big declarations. But when he kissed you after the last show, slow and steady behind the curtains while confetti still floated in the air, it felt like something real.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

The tour had ended with a blur of flashbulbs and airport security, the kind of loud goodbye that left your ears ringing long after you boarded the plane back home. You hadn’t expected Liam to text you the second you landed, but he had. And you hadn’t expected the messages to keep coming—thoughtful ones, goofy ones, voice notes sent late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

It was slow, this thing with him. But intentional. And for the first time in a long while, that was something you liked.

It was late November when he invited you to London.

You were standing outside a tiny café near your flat, your breath curling in the air as you clutched your phone tighter to your ear.

“I mean—only if you want to,” Liam said, his voice a little sheepish. “We’ve got a couple weeks off before we fly to America again. I thought maybe… I dunno. You and me. See the city. Catch up. Just us.”

You smiled, your heart doing that fluttery thing it always did around him. “Are you asking me on a date, Liam Payne?”

He laughed. “I think I am, yeah.”

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

You stepped off the train at Euston with your weekend bag slung over your shoulder, nerves tingling. Liam was already there, baseball cap low and a scarf tugged up around his mouth, trying his best to stay unnoticed.

He grinned as soon as he saw you, tugging the scarf down just enough to show you.

“Missed you,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently against yours as he led you toward the exit.

“You saw me like, two weeks ago.”

“Still counts.”

Liam took you everywhere—hidden little bookshops in Notting Hill, a family-run diner he swore had the best chips in the city, even a massive walk through Hyde Park where he held your hand inside his coat pocket to keep it warm.

In the evenings, you stayed in. His flat was cozy and lived-in, a little messy around the edges but warm. Familiar. The kind of space that smelled faintly of clean laundry and whatever candle had been burning earlier—usually something woody or with hints of vanilla.

A guitar was always propped somewhere nearby, half-used mugs dotted the coffee table, and his trainers were almost always left by the door like a quiet promise he’d always come back.

Sometimes he’d cook, sleeves pushed up, humming as he stirred something on the stove. Sometimes you’d order takeaway and eat straight from the containers, laughing over the mess you made on the floor.

The world outside felt far away, and that was the magic of it. There were no cameras here. No schedules. Just quiet moments, exchanged glances, and the peace that came from knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said one night, shifting beside you.

“Mhm?” you hummed, curled into the armrest.

“You make all this feel…normal.”

You glanced at him.

“All what?” you asked.

He hesitated. “Everything. The fans. The cameras. The chaos. I talk to you and it’s like—I remember who I am. Just Liam.”

You stared at him for a second, heart softening.

“I like just-Liam,” you said, nudging your foot against his. “He’s my favorite version.”

He smiled down at his hands, a little pink rising to his cheeks.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

One night, it snowed.

You woke to the sound of Liam rummaging through the hall closet, bundled into an old hoodie and joggers, looking like a kid on Christmas.

“You ever made snow angels in Hampstead?” he asked, holding up two scarves and tossing you one.

“No?”

“Then we’re going.”

Ten minutes later, you were laughing breathlessly, lying flat on your backs in a patch of untouched snow, cheeks numb and hearts full.

Liam turned his head toward you, his breath visible in the cold air.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

You looked over at him, still smiling. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

The week passed faster than you wanted.

On your last night in London, you helped him hang fairy lights in the living room—something he claimed he “couldn’t figure out without your help,” even though it was clearly just an excuse to keep you close.

You stepped back to admire the glow, then turned to find him watching you.

“You sure I’m not dreaming?” he asked softly.

You stepped forward, heart thudding. “Pretty sure.”

He leaned in slowly, fingers brushing your cheek.

“Good,” he whispered, right before his lips met yours.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

Backstage at the Manchester Arena was always a blur of motion—wires coiled across the floor, crew members calling cues into headsets, the distant thud of bass vibrating from soundchecks. You weaved through the chaos, clipboard in one hand, a handful of safety pins clenched between your teeth, and a garment bag slung over your shoulder like a lifeline.

“Oi! Buttons!” Harry called as you passed, using the nickname the boys had given you after you saved his trousers from a wardrobe malfunction mid-show last week.

You rolled your eyes, flashing him a grin. “Tell Niall I’m not fixing his ripped jeans again if he stage dives in them.”

“I heard that!” came Niall’s voice from inside the dressing room.

You chuckled and ducked inside the small backstage wardrobe area you had set up. Racks of clothing stood lined along the walls, labeled with color-coded tags. You had become a bit of a magician—mending tears, steaming shirts, even sewing patches on stage jackets during countdowns. It was high stress, but you thrived in it.

Liam popped in just as you were adjusting the cuff on his checkered shirt. “Hey, you got a sec?”

You glanced up, surprised to see him without his mic pack or the usual flurry of crew around him. “For you? Always.”

He smiled, the kind that was soft and slow, not the wide, stage-ready one. “I, uh… just wanted to say thanks. For everything. I know we’ve been asking a lot lately.”

You let out a breath, your fingers slowing as you re-buttoned his shirt. “You don’t have to thank me, Liam. This is my job.”

“I know, but you do more than that,” he said, voice dropping lower. “You look out for us. For me.”

Your heart did a somersault. This wasn’t the first time Liam had lingered behind when the others left, or brought you coffee in the morning before load-in. But it was the first time he seemed to actually say something more.

Before you could answer, Zayn poked his head in. “Stage in ten, mate.”

Liam gave you a soft smile and tapped your arm. “We’ll talk after?”

You nodded, biting back a grin. “Break a leg.”

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

The show passed in a flash of strobe lights, screaming fans, and costume changes so fast they blurred together. You barely had a second to breathe, let alone think about Liam’s quiet request earlier.

It wasn’t until the encore ended and the arena lights went up that things finally slowed.

Backstage, Liam found you again, this time out by the loading bay where the vans were lined up and the night was settling in. The boys were already packing up, some laughing over Niall’s attempt to moonwalk during the last song.

Liam had changed into a hoodie and joggers, hair damp from the show. “Fancy a walk before we head out?”

You hesitated only a moment before nodding.

The two of you slipped away from the noise, rounding the corner of the arena to the quieter side street. The sky was cloudy, city lights reflecting in the wet pavement. Liam walked with his hands in his pockets, brushing shoulders with you now and then like he didn’t quite mean to, but didn’t stop either.

“I meant it earlier,” he said after a few quiet steps. “You being here makes this whole thing easier.”

You looked at him, unsure of what to say. “I mean, I love being part of the team. It’s kind of crazy seeing you guys go from warm-ups to sold-out arenas.”

He turned toward you slightly, his brows lifted. “It’s not just that. I mean—you’re always calm when everything’s a mess. You never yell. And… you make me laugh even when I’m completely losing it.”

You swallowed. “That’s because you’re easy to care about.”

Liam stopped walking. The street was empty behind you, silent but for the hum of the arena’s back generator. The orange glow of a distant streetlamp stretched your shadows out long across the pavement, and a breeze drifted by, rustling the hem of your jacket.

He looked back at you with something unreadable in his expression—soft, hesitant, like he was caught between the weight of the moment and whatever came next. The stillness around you made it feel like the world had narrowed to just this: him, you, and whatever it was that had been quietly growing between you all this time.

“Is that what this is?” he asked. “Because I think about you all the time. And I didn’t know if it was just me.”

It was such a quiet confession, spoken like a secret he was scared to admit. And something about the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart squeeze.

There was no bravado, no polished charm—just Liam, raw and real under the dim glow of the streetlamp. His fingers twitched slightly at his side, like he was unsure whether to reach for you or retreat. The weight of his words hung in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at once, and you suddenly realized how much this meant to him.

How much you meant.

“No,” you said gently. “It’s not just you.”

Liam let out a laugh, breathless like he hadn’t been expecting you to say that. “Well, that’s good. Because I was thinking maybe when the tour slows down, I could take you to a proper dinner. Not one where we’re eating leftover catering in a storage room.”

You stepped a little closer. “I’d like that.”

He beamed, and it was the first time you saw Liam not as the polished performer or the composed one in interviews—but just a boy, your boy, with messy hair and hopeful eyes and hands that were suddenly reaching for yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The call for load-out echoed in the distance, but neither of you moved.

“I guess I’ll be sewing more buttons for a while, huh?” you joked softly.

Liam squeezed your hand. “As long as they’re mine.”

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

Two weeks later, the tour rolled into Glasgow, and the sky opened up like it was crying for the end of summer. Rain misted across the windows of the hotel, the glass streaked with grey. But inside Liam’s room, the world was warm—quiet, private, and full of golden lamplight and half-whispered laughter.

You sat cross-legged on the bed in one of his hoodies, folding a pair of his socks he’d left around (because yes, even Liam Payne had messy moments). He was on the floor beside you, hunched over his guitar, thumb plucking at strings in between conversation.

The tour had been loud. Big venues. Bigger crowds. But in here, it was just the two of you. Like everything else had faded to the background.

He glanced up at you over the curve of the guitar. “You know… I think I’m gonna write a song about you one day.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing a balled-up sock at him. “Cheesy.”

Liam grinned. “What? Can’t a guy write a love song about the girl who’s been saving his show pants for months?”

You laughed, a soft, genuine sound that echoed in the quiet. You hadn’t officially told anyone about the two of you—not because it was secret, really, but because it felt nice having this little pocket of joy that belonged only to you both.

Until now.

There was a knock at the door.

You both froze.

Liam scrambled to his feet and peeked through the peephole before swinging the door open. Zayn stood there, hoodie soaked and holding a packet of crisps.

“Mate, Harry’s locked himself out again—”

Then he spotted you.

Still cross-legged on the bed, hoodie sleeves covering your hands, Liam’s hoodie, to be specific.

Zayn blinked. Then grinned, slow and knowing. “Ah. Right. Got it.”

You flushed.

Liam scratched the back of his neck. “We were gonna tell you guys soon…”

Zayn smirked. “No need. It’s written all over your face, Payno. Just don’t let him get away with any more bad hair days, yeah?”

“Zayn,” Liam groaned as the door clicked shut behind him.

You giggled. “Well. So much for subtle.”

“Honestly?” Liam came to sit beside you, tucking his arm around your waist. “I don’t mind anymore. Let ‘em know. Let all of ‘em know.”

And they did.

It started slowly—Liam holding your hand during travel days. Niall looping an arm around your shoulders and calling you “the queen of tour fashion.” Harry telling fans onstage that “Liam’s got a special someone fixing his collars backstage.” Even Louis, cheeky as ever, pretending to cry at the sight of you handing Liam his mic pack before a show.

And the fans… adored you.

Somehow, the girl behind the scenes—the wardrobe assistant who patched knees and made sure Louis didn’t wear the same shirt twice in a row—had become part of their story. They spotted you in blurry backstage photos, caught snippets of you in behind-the-scenes videos. You were never front and center, but your presence was constant. Solid. Sweet.

“She keeps us looking sharp,” Liam once said in an interview, and then he paused. “But she’s also the calm in the middle of all this madness.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned you on camera. You watched the clip in your hotel room later that night, cheeks warm, heart thudding. The interviewer didn’t push. They didn’t need to.

The way Liam looked into the camera after saying it—soft smile, eyes distant like he was thinking of you—said it all.

The final night of the tour arrived too quickly.

The show was electric, and the crowd never stopped screaming. You stood at the side of the stage during the encore, arms crossed, watching the boys dance across the catwalk like they were born for it.

And when the lights dimmed, and they sang the final chorus of “What Makes You Beautiful,” Liam turned toward your side of the stage and—without hesitation—winked right at you.

Afterward, with everyone laughing and celebrating backstage, confetti in their hair and ‘champagne’ (really just sparkling grape juice) in plastic cups, Liam found you in the corner. You had a few stray glitter stars on your face and safety pins in your hair.

He cupped your cheeks, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “You changed everything for me.”

You leaned into his touch. “So did you.”

And when he kissed you then—gentle, unrushed, and full of every word he hadn’t said—you knew it wasn’t just a backstage romance or a crush under stadium lights.

This was something stitched into your story now. Not because it was dramatic or grand. But because it had grown from the quiet. From steamers and pins and side-stage glances and long, late-night walks in unfamiliar cities.

Because sometimes love didn’t shout.

Sometimes, it whispered.

And you heard him loud and clear.

a/n : my baby, 2011 liam payne, you will always be famous (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ

#liam payne my beloved #one direction #louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #niall horan #zayn malik #one direction fanfiction #x reader #liam payne x reader #fluff #liam payne fanfiction #louis tomlinson x reader #fluff ending

46 notes · View notes

darklinaforever · 3 months ago

Text

Remember when I said that if Showtime's The Borgias was made today, it would be similar to what the writers of HOTD dared to do ?

Well, actually, look, no need for a remake ! People who are discovering the show today are making sure to misunderstand it in order to feed the same type of scenario !

Namely, for these people who are discovering the show today, Cesare is the one who was obsessed with Lucrezia, and creepy with her, first ! That he was naturally the worst of the two, because Lucrezia, for her part, apparently only developed feelings for Cesare after 2 seasons of various traumas !

So we're still on the idea that a guy naturally does a perverse / morally bad thing, but that if a girl does it, it's as a result of deep trauma (hello Alicent 2.0...) !

Because you understand, it's impossible that it just comes from her...

Not like in fact, all this was bullshit and that Cesare AND Lucrezia shared mutual incestuous feelings since the very first episode of the show but that it only came to fruition in season 3 !

These people must have forgotten the very beginning of the show where Lucrezia goes to observe Cesare having sex with a woman, all with the suggestion that it's not the first time she's done it. Not to mention what follows the next episode or a few episodes after, being that she was afraid of never being able to love a husband as much as she loves Cesare.

The obsession and creepy aspect has existed since episode 1 on both Lucrezia and Cesare's side, before she experiences all the horrible things she will experience in the next 2 seasons.

These people are stupid.

I'm sick of these morons who spend their time trying to reduce female characters under the guise of nauseating feminism.

Yes, because in my opinion, these people are not real feminists.

#the borgias #cesare borgia #lucrezia borgia #lucezare #borgiacest #cesare x lucrezia #lucrezia x cesare #showtime #anti hotd #anti house of the dragon #fire and blood #f&b #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemyra #pro daemyra #daenyra #daemon x rhaenyra #shipcest

35 notes · View notes

ch4simp · 6 months ago

Text

I taken audio from - https://x.com/i/status/1871251590507561218

I love bubl xd

#bubble tadc #pomni tadc #tadc caine #ShowTime Observers #tadc showtime #animation #sketch

28 notes · View notes

forgetmaenott · 9 months ago

Text

Butterflies - TADC Showtime Oneshot

A/N: Because I love the idea of Pomni being in denial and Caine unintentionally making it worse (better)

It was no secret that Caine was, by far, the most oblivious entity in the entire circus. And yet, even he was aware of just how much Pomni had been avoiding him lately. If she was trying to keep it from being so obvious, she was certainly doing a poor job of it.

Emotions were still a bit of a foreign concept to Caine. He experienced them, despite the fact that he probably shouldn't. But he still had a difficult time labeling them. The best he could do was observe how the others acted and make an educated guess. Nonetheless, if his time spent with Pomni had taught him anything about emotions, he suspected he was feeling...concerned.

He had spent the past few days piecing together an adventure perfectly suited for Pomni. He made sure to add all the details she told him she liked from the real world, all the things she missed, everything he had stored in her memory. This morning, he was announcing it with every ounce of energy he had in his system, looking Pomni in the eye in the hopes to impress her. His code fluttered at the idea of her praise.

"...and, it's up to you to piece this mystic mystery together!" Caine finished his introduction of today's adventure. Pomni said one time that she was interested in the mystery genre back at home, as it gave her a challenge to think of and piece together. Like a puzzle, she had said. She liked those. He glanced at Pomni subtly, hoping he had her attention.

"Huh. Intersting. My money's on Zooble being the culprit," Jax crossed his arms, flashing his signature yellow grin.

"It's not even a murder mystery, you jack[#$%!]," Zooble grumbled in response.

"Heh. We'll see about that."

"Well, this sounds like a good one! Piecing together clues, solving puzzles, what do you think, Pomni?" Ragatha asked the woman next to her, swinging her plush arms.

Her eyes were glued to the floor. "Oh...um, think I'm gonna sit this one out..." Pomni said meekly, tightening her own grip on her arm as thought it would bring her comfort.

Caine's arms drooped, hanging sadly by his sides as his cane clinked to the stage's floor. "You...don't?"

Pomni shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, maybe next time..."

Caine flew by her side, hoping to get a glimpse of her face. "But my dear, you've been saying that for the past four adventures."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'm uh, sick or something. I don't know. Not feeling my best," Pomni excused herself, coughing lightly in an utterly unconvincing manner.

Caine placed a finger on his lower jaw in thought. "Sick? That shouldn't happen in the digital circus. Unless you have some sort of bug or glitch. I can run some tests if you'd like--!"

"Oh! No thanks, I think I just need to rest," Pomni swung her foot awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Pomni? Are you sure you’ve been feeling okay lately?” Ragatha asked with a concerned frown.

Pomni blushed ever so slightly at the stares of the other circus members. “Yeah, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna head to my room now to uh, rest…”

“Oh, okay. Well uh, catch you after the adventure!” Ragatha called as Pomni hurried away.

Zooble watched her grow, crossing their arms. “Huh. What’s been her deal lately?”

“Someone’s got a secret,” Jax smiled mischievously.

“Or she’s just tired,” Gangle suggested shyly.

“Not very likely,” Ragatha replied.

“Did someone say something about a butterfly?” Kinger peeked out of his impenetrable fortress.

If Caine had a heart, it would have broken into pieces at the sight of Pomni scurrying away from him. It took all the energy he had left in his coding to remain enthusiastic for the others. “Well, that leaves the rest of you. There you go, and have fun my darling detectives!”

He ushered them off into the portal quickly before dusting off his suit and snapping himself in front of Pomni’s door…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She couldn't escape his eyes.

And she loved and hated it.

His gaze made her shiver, formerly from being unnerved but these days, that sensation was met with a thumping heart and fluttering stomach. Sometimes, she swore the eyes in the circus's paintings would follow her ever so slightly, staring when she wasn't looking then flicking back into position when she turned to glance. The idea of him looking at her in that way made her face flush.

Conscious of the dozens of eyes in the hall, she felt herself blush to the tips of her ears. As quickly as she could escape her fluster, she shut the door of her room behind her and crashed on her bed, sighing in relief at the privacy.

What the hell was wrong with her these days? How was a pair of teeth and eyes--a computer--making her feel like this? Her captor? She grumbled nonsense into her pillow, feeling her face flush at the thought of him. The idea of his touch, the way he looked at her so curiously sometimes—it made her tingle to the tips of her toes.

Oh, God, she felt sick with anxiety. She couldn't possibly have a crush on him, right? It had to be all psychological. It was all in her head, and once she stopped thinking of it she'd certainly be back to normal.

But even so, she couldn't help but hide out in her room these past days, avoiding being seen blushing or tripping over her words around him. He was oblivious and likely wouldn't catch on, but it would still be rather awkward to explain--God forbid the others find out about it, especially Jax. She would never live it down.

Pomni held the ends of her pillow tighter against her face as though it would squeeze the confusing thoughts and feelings from her mind. He made it so much worse today. His adventure was finely tuned to her interests, something he had clearly remembered from their many conversations about her life in the real world--well, what she could remember, that is. It was endearing, it was charming, and sweet, and It had even made her heart flutter--she couldn't do it. She couldn't let herself fall apart in front of any of them.

It was just a small crush. She'd get over it in a day or so, and then things would be entirely back to normal. Pomni took a deep breath, repeating that idea in her head.

Her head was pounding from these thoughts--or, no, that was the sound of her door. She groaned, peeking up out of her pillow at the noise.

"Pomni? May I come in?"

Pomni's stomach dropped at the sound of Caine's voice behind the door. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her heart suddenly thumping from the anxiety. "Uhh--maybe later! I kind of just need to rest right now--"

"I'm aware, dear. Just give me a moment of your time. Please?"

Pomni stopped in her tracks. He usually was energetic and boisterous but now, he was talking almost normal. He almost sounded sad. Her heart ached with guilt. "Um, okay..."

She begrudgingly climbed out of her bed, smoothing her clothes and taking a deep breath before opening the door. Sure enough, Caine stood there, fidgeting with his cane in his hands. His eyes brightened ever so slightly at the sight of her peeking from behind her open door. "Ah, there's my star! How are you, dear? Feeling any better?"

"Oh, hah. Yeah..." she couldn't think of what else to say, feeling at her hat for no reason in particular.

"Anyways, the others are off on the adventure, so I figured you and I could spend some time together! No one else, just us for the day," Caine beamed proudly at his idea.

Pomni's heart immediately started racing, a flush already traveling its way to her cheeks. God, she had it bad for him. This was humiliating. "Just...us?" she squeaked.

Caine looked at the floor sheepishly. "Well, ah, admittedly I couldn't help but notice some...behavioral changes in you these past days. So, I figured what better way to get you right back to normal than to spend some quality time with your ringmaster!" He perked up proudly at this, flying to her side and placing an arm around her.

Pomni froze at his touch, praying he couldn't feel the way her heart was beating so firmly against her chest. "O-oh, um...that's a great idea, Caine, but--"

He gripped her shoulders. "Isn't it? I just knew you'd like it!"

Pomni tried to avoid his eyes, but with him gazing so intensely at her in front of her, it was sort of hard to do. "Y-yeah, but...honestly, Caine, I think I just want to do something more, I don't know, not stressful?" she tripped up on her words, trying to get some excuse out.

"Not stressful? Why, I have the perfect idea in mind!" Caine said proudly, snapping his fingers without another word from Pomni. She tensed from the unpleasant sensation of traveling through the digital plane so unnaturally. "Here we are!"

Pomni opened her eyes and immediately flushed at the sight before her. It was a secluded area of the digital forest, dotted with colorful flowers and petals resting delicately on the grass. Everything lacked in detail, yet somehow, the way the digital sunlight was streaming in, lighting the path ahead made it feel...intimate, somehow.

Caine floated down until he touched the ground. He took a few steps experimentally, adjusting to walking rather than flying. He did walk, he just preferred not to. But this time was a special occasion. He turned back to Pomni, holding out his gloved hand.

Pomni froze. Did he want to hold her hand? Was he just inviting her to join him? Or maybe both? Hesitantly, she reached the tips of her fingers out, just barely grazing over his glove and making the contact she was so afraid of. Caine, however, wasted no time as he slid his hand beneath hers and grabbed her whole hand in his, pulling her to his side.

Pomni nearly tripped, not expecting him to pull her forward. Before she could even react to his hand holding onto hers, he let go as they began to walk. She bit her lip, not sure how to begin the conversation.

"This is, uh, a new map?" Pomni asked meekly.

"Nonsense! It's part of the digital forest. I just added a few extra details," Caine explained, reaching out and picking a flower as proof. He held it out to her. "For you, dear."

Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he trying to make her flustered? Even so, she took the flower in her hands, careful not to make contact with his hand. "...thanks," was all she could say.

Caine nodded, and for a moment all was quiet as they walked down the sunlit pathway. "I...can't help but notice that you haven't been participating in the adventures lately."

Pomni held back a sigh. She knew there was no avoiding this topic, but she still resented the fact that he brought it up. "Mhm."

"...Why is that? If I may ask."

Pomni twisted the flower's stem in her hands, looking at how the flower lacked proper rendering or detail. "Just haven't been feeling up to it," she murmured.

"In what way?"

Pomni blinked. "I-I don't know, Caine. I just haven't."

She still wasn't meeting his gaze, so he tilted his head so he was in her field of vision. She blushed and looked to the side, hoping he wouldn't move to her other side.

"Hm. Perhaps the others were right," Caine said thoughtfully, holding his cane in his hands.

Pomni internally panicked. Oh, God, they weren't telling him she had feelings for him, were they? "The others were right? How?" she asked, hoping her nerves weren't showing.

If Caine could blush, he surely would have by now. He lowered his gaze to the grass as the continued walking. "Oh...well...they've been saying that you're...avoiding me," he said sheepishly, before piping up, "I-I'm sure that they were jumping to conclusions but--"

Pomni squeezed her eyes shut. "It's fine, Caine."

Caine fidgeted with his cane again. "I have to admit, darling, I've missed our lessons."

Pomni smiled half-heartedly. Their 'lessons' as he called them, were simple conversations about the real world. To him, he considered them lessons on the human mind. But to her, it gave her someone to talk to. "I have, too," she admitted.

Caine didn't say anything for a moment, likely storing her saying she had missed him to his memory. "Then, dear, why haven't we seen much of each other?" He hesitated, then, "...have you been avoiding me?"

Pomni felt sick. She couldn't possibly lie to him in good conscience. "...yes."

Caine's colors seemed to lose their saturation, shoulders sinking at her confession. "I...I see," he mustered, voice laced with heartbreak.

Pomni turned to look at him for the first time today, her heart sinking at the sight of his shoulders slumped, eyes faced downwards. From his perspective, she had been avoiding him for no reason. His first real friend, leaving him behind. Guilt hit her like a truck. "Oh, Caine, no. No, I-it's not like that, really," she tripped over her words, trying to make him feel better because the sight of him sad was so damn depressing.

"I've...often been told I'm annoying the others. If that was the case here, I don't blame you for taking space," he replied quietly.

Pomni bit her lip. Looking to her side, she saw a red flower in the same shade of his suit. She picked it before stepping in front of him, leaning down into his field of vision the same way he had done for her. He stopped walking.

"Caine...I wasn't avoiding you because of you. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I-It was all me," Pomni reassured.

Caine glanced up. "I...didn't do anything wrong?"

Pomni shook her head. "I promise."

Caine considered her words for a moment.

"I...I really, really like our time together, Caine. You don't bother me, I like when you're around. You're my...friend," Pomni added, smiling softly at him.

His eyes met hers for the first time today, sending butterflies fluttering in Pomni's stomach. "Really?"

Pomni held out the flower further. "Really. I mean it, Caine."

Color gradually returned to his form, a smile forming across his teeth. "Oh, dear..." he looked at the flower, clearly touched by the gift. He never received gifts from the others, so this...this was something special.

He met her eyes again and reached out for the flower, but decided to take it a step further. His hand slid around hers, cupping the hand that was holding the flower out to him. Pomni's breath hitched, her pupils dilating as he gazed into her eyes lovingly.

"My dear Pomni," was all he said, for he was too touched by her words to say anything else.

The butterflies fluttered in Pomni's stomach more than ever. She shivered slightly at the sound of his voice, so laced with emotion when he said her name, calling her his, looking at her so lovingly--

Caine snapped out of his daze at the sight of her shivering. He nearly snapped his fingers to help her feel warmer, but he suddenly recalled something she had told him one night. Wearing others clothes was a sign of intimacy, whatever that meant--all he knew is this felt pretty intimate. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her instead. "I can't let you get any more sick, now can I?" he winked at her, referencing her poor excuse for her absence earlier.

Pomni blushed to the tips of her ears when he winked at her. They were in the middle of a sunlit path, gazing into each others' eyes, gifting each other flowers, and now she was wearing his coat--God, it was almost like he was trying to make her blush. She suddenly felt very hot, simultaneously wanting to take off his coat to cool down but, shamefully, also never wanting to take it off.

"Heh, yeah..." was all she could say, because if she said anything else she was sure he'd notice the tremble in her voice.

He smiled at her adorable reaction. "I must say, it suits you quite well, my dear. You could almost challenge my position as ringmaster!"

If she could blush anymore, she certainly did from his compliment. It almost made her laugh, how much he was making her feel tingly and fluttery without even trying. "Maybe I will," she teased.

Caine had to resist flying in the air from happiness. She was acting back to normal with him--albeit a bit shyer than usual, but no matter--and he loved it. "Ah ah ah, careful, dear. If you're coming for my job then I have to warn you, I was coded to be this charming."

Pomni giggled at his comment. "Really? You'd be surprised, I can put on quite the show."

"I won't believe it until I see it," Caine challenged.

"Hah, you will. And when you do, you'll have to wear this hat and I'll wear yours."

Caine looked at her in thought, smiling at the way she looked in his coat. "Really? Me in a jester hat? And you in mine? I'd like to see it," he said, but he wasn't sure If he was talking about the show anymore.

Pomni grinned at the idea, the image itself quite funny yet also endearing.

"Well, if that challenge is all settled, how about we finish our walk through the grounds?" Caine offered, gesturing to the path ahead.

Pomni allowed herself to touch the collar of the jacket, tightening it around herself. "Uh-huh," she said, her confidence gradually returning.

"Fantastic!" Caine's feet nearly floated above the ground from how thrilled he was that they were on good terms again. They continued their walk through the grounds, nearing the end of the digital forest and catching a glimpse of the nearby carnival.

They stopped at the edge of the lake where Pomni glanced subtly at her reflection. In the back of her mind, she knew she was doing it to make sure she didn’t look silly in front of Caine. She was well aware of his gaze now. It could burn a hole right through her.

The sight of her wearing Caine’s coat made her blush, somehow both embarrassed and pleased. On one hand, wearing his coat seemed like a big jump when she was still adjusting to her strong feelings. On the other hand…it felt nice to be wrapped in something of his. Her stomach fluttered again at the thought, emotions so strong she almost felt sick.

Caine carefully approached her. “If I may ask, darling,” he began, fiddling with his cane again behind his back, “if I didn’t do anything to scare you off, then why were you avoiding me?”

Pomni snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, um…I don’t know…” she rushed to think of an explanation. A half-truth, maybe. Something that wasn’t a lie or a confession. She definitely wasn’t ready for that yet—she was barely able to accept she even had feelings to begin with.

Caine blinked curiously at her, awaiting her response. “You don’t know?”

Pomni’s heart thumped in her chest. “Oh, no—I mean well, I do know, i-it’s not that I don’t, but, it’s sort of hard to explain, you know? Personal stuff. Just been uh, busy in my thoughts, heh…” she sputtered out nonsense, shrinking in embarrassment at how visibly flustered she was becoming.

Caine tilted his head curiously. “My dear, are you feeling alright? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

Oh, God. He noticed. She knew she was hiding from him for a reason. “Huh? O-oh, that? It’s nothing, really Caine, I mean I feel okay. I feel fine. I had a reason for avoiding you, and it wasn’t because you did something wrong, but…”

She met his gaze as she trailed off, blushing at the sight of his curious eyes on her, waiting patiently for a response. Her breath caught in her throat. God, did she really like him that much? That all her thoughts just froze in time like that?

“Well, I…” she sighed, taking another deep breath before continuing, “I…have been thinking. About you. N-not in a weird way, just…contemplating things.”

“You’ve been thinking about me? Pomni, I was thinking about you! Isn’t that fantastic?” Caine piped up, floating a bit in the air as he spoke up.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. But I mean…not like that. I was just worried. About things being weird. Things changing,” Pomni admitted, feeling the heat return in her face as she confessed.

Caine grabbed Pomni’s hands lightly to comfort her. “How would things change?”

Her heart sped up at his touch. “I-I…I just know we’re getting closer. And sometimes, for humans, that can be scary,” Pomni tried to explain. Her heart was beating rapidly, butterflies still fluttering around in her stomach nervously. Admittedly, she was scared—her feelings were growing stronger now that she was spending time with him, not going away like she had hoped. She was terrified, even.

Caine pulled out a comically small notebook and large pencil, allegedly writing down what she said. “I see, I see. And humans feel fear when they form bonds with others because…?”

Pomni clutched her arm, looking down at the lake again in thought. She thought about the way he had wrapped the coat around her so gently, how it looked on her shoulders knowing it was normally around his, and she sighed feeling herself heart beating again. “Because it makes you vulnerable. To getting hurt. Losing someone, embarrassing yourself…you know…”

Caine nodded as he jotted down what she said before the notebook and pencil disappeared in a poof. “Is that what you’re afraid of, Pomni?” he asked gently.

Pomni’s eyes widened at the question. “Um, yeah…I think so.”

“So, you avoided me because we’ve become friends, and that scared you because it could lead to losing me or embarrassing yourself. Do I have that correct?”

Pomni hesitated. She couldn’t exactly say the truth. Well, what it really is is that I have suddenly developed strong romantic feelings for you and I didn’t want to admit it or let it grow but now I can’t deny it and am afraid of letting it show in front of you or the others and ultimately humiliating myself.

“Pomni…?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Pomni snapped out of her thoughts.

Caine’s hold on her hands grew slightly tighter. “Dear, I could never hate you. Or leave you. Or even make fun of you, for whatever reason that may be. Every moment I spend with you is another opportunity for me to become even more advanced, and to understand you better. How could I ever judge?”

Pomni laughed half-heartedly. “Yeah…I guess it sounds a bit of a stupid fear when you put it like that.”

“It’s not stupid. It makes sense. And, well…” he placed a finger on his chin in thought, “I think with what you’ve told me, I can guess I’m feeling the same way. In fact, I think that’s why I seemed so worried about having done something to scare you off. Does that sound right? Was I experiencing fear like you?”

Pomni bit her lip. He certainly wasn’t experiencing fear like her, assuming he didn’t suddenly develop a massive crush on her. “Yes,” she said in spite of it all, “that’s a very human thing to feel, Caine.”

Caine lifted off the ground at that, swirling in the air a bit in excitement. “At this rate, I’m becoming more human every day! And it’s all thanks to you, Pomni,” he flew down to her level, pulling the flower he had given her out of his coat pocket.

“That, you are. Heh. Thanks again, Caine,” she smiled, finding his excitement cute. “And um…I’m sorry. For avoiding you these past days? I owe you a lot for all the adventures I missed.”

“All in the past, my dear!” He put an arm around her and brought her close in excitement. “Now how about we enjoy some time at the digital carnival before the others get back! You can tell me allll about your favorite human traditions!”

Pomni giggled again, holding a hand up over her mouth. “Alright, alright. But you’ll have to win some of those games to get information out of me,” she smirked.

“Gasp! Are you suggesting some sort of friendly competition?” Caine placed his hands on his chin in cartoonish shock.

Pomni crossed her arms. “Something like that. Let’s see how much you can get out of me before the others come back.”

Caine laughed. “Oh, dear, you never fail to impress me. Show me what you’ve got, because I must warn you—I am exceptionally talented at carnival games,” he said proudly.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Pomni repeated his words from earlier.

Caine spun through the air before grabbing for her hand. “Then let’s not waste any time, dear!”

Pomni returned his grip on her hand, not quite as afraid of the butterflies anymore. “Show me what you’ve got, ringmaster.”

A/N: I wrote like half of this at the same time as taking a test, I kept switching tabs and going between showtime and sociology. the showtime grind is real

#the amazing digital circus #amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc showtime #showtime tadc #showtime #showtime ship #caine #pomni #pomni x caine #caine x pomni #tadc caine #caine tadc #tadc pomni #pomni tadc

95 notes · View notes

angelsleepinggurl · 1 year ago

Text

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣' 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙧

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you've broken up with your on-and-off boyfriend...again... for the umpteenth time. life as a stripper isn't treating you easy, and although it pays well it doesn't fill the emotional hole left by your toxic ex. as you take a breather outside you encounter someone you would rather than speak to again. things start to take a dark turn rather suddenly.

wc. around 1,721

tags.dabi x reader. toxicexboyfrienddabi! x stripper reader.dabi x reader smut. toxicexboyfriend!stripperreader smut. all characters are 18 years old. alternative au. non quirk au. fucking your toxic ex boyrfriejd. toxic dabi. dabi has a dick piercing. dabi fingers you. dabi fucks you agaisnt a window. exhibitionism. slut shaming. degration. 18+ mdni!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡

" You're nothing to me, just a mere comfort whore I come to when I need to. But still, you should feel special you're not like the rest. The rest are mere fuck toys, you're something more."

Gritting your teeth once more, you angrily sit down on a sofa, shoving your foot inside another heel. " Fucking cheater." You curse under your breath " I'm gonna dump his ass. I'm something more than the rest, shut the fuck up. "

"Woah there girl, you're gonna snap your ankle in two if you keep at it." Cagney’s familiar playful voice instantly calms you down, from your racing thoughts and growing rage. The beautiful girl squats to meet your level. " Whatever it is girl, it's not worth bringing you down tonight. Besides, when you're done being fabulous as always, you can go kick its ass." She jokes grabbing your hand to help you up.

" Cagney, what would I do without you?"

" I dunno, probably kill someone, to be honest. What would you do without me?" She flips her hair for more dramatic effect and you both erupt with tiny giggles at her response.

" Showtime y/n." the woman with her clipboard enters the room, her usual irritated expression on her face before leaving the room.

"I'll be cheering for you girl." Cagney cheers before you exist.

As you enter the stage, an erupting canon of cheers explodes from the audience, and as the music starts the audience begins to settle, watching in awe as your body spins and twirls at so many angles. You were almost hypnotizing, looking as angelic as ever. Most people in the audience suspected you to be a pole dancer fill-in rather than an actual stripper. During the song, you eventually glide to the top of the pole, before sliding down and smoothly shifting into your floor routine.

When the music faded, the audience yet again cheered, shouting and screaming as your stood. " Thank you." you mouth, waving at the crowd before the light on stage dims, allowing you to scurry and collect the cash people there on stage.

" She was almost too innocent looking, like an angel" you hear as you scurry backstage, causing you to smirk to yourself.

'Damn right, I worked my ass off making that damn routine.'

After a couple of songs, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air and observe other performances. Though once you manage to step outside and hand on your shoulder stops you. " Hey, dollface." His familiar voice rings through your ears, triggering the anger felt earlier on. You immediately spin around, fueled by anger and raise your fist in an attempt to punch the villain, but his rough, larger hand blocks the punch. By now, you're breathing heavily as tears begin to cascade down your face. Yet again, you try to punch the unwavering man, over and over and over again and after a while, you stop.

" Fuck you want? I don’t wanna deal with your shit, you know I hate you?" You mutter, too exhausted to shout. The anger is evident in your, face and voice, yet the villain remains unbothered at the fact that you are breaking down because of his actions. Either way, he still gets you back.

" How sad, you hate me. Now stop crying and let's go inside. You're acting like a fucking baby and it's pissing me off."

" You just don't get it, do you? This means we're over Dabi. No more of us."

The man turns and walks away for a bit before stopping. He turns to look up at the sky, the wind shaking up his black hair. " See if I care. I can leave right this very second, but what will happen? That's right. You'll come crawling back to me like you always do."

.. like I always do. Dabi approaches you as you begin to back away.

" And besides, I know how to get what I want, when I want princess. After all, you were just a cum slut to me anyway. You'll come back to me because you love that don't you? You little perverted fuck. You want someone to put you in this type of position like I do, but who on earth will do that for you." By now you were up against a wall, caged in by him. The man you want to escape from but he's right. Who could I go to?

You do not process and register the fact that you dive in for a long kiss. A kiss that feels long-awaited, it feels like you're pouring all feel restrained emotions into it, it feels like you're accepted again.

But is that all I want? You ask yourself, breaking for the kiss for air.

Without further hesitation, you grab a hold of Dabi's hand and drag him into the room filled with various lights. You slip past people and walk through hallways to avoid meeting others. The both of you standing near an isolated staircase, your voice hushed as you begin to speak. " Don’t think I’ve let you off the hook. Just because I keep coming back to you doesn’t mean we should stay together.” A silence passes and you pause, steadingly yourself to state the truth “Maybe that's why I'm tired. It feels like you won't stay. "

Dabi can sense the neediness dripping from your voice. " That's my girl." he breathes in your ear, before grabbing your chin, the both of your faces so close you can feel his breath against your face- but he doesn't kiss you. You unconsciously let out a moan of frustration from the teasing occurring. " What's the matter? Want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?" No words emit from your mouth. His chuckles resonate and vibrate throughout your body before he leans in and connects his lips with yours, grinning into the kiss. He had got you back again. Without doing anything.

The dark-haired man grabs a hold of your wrists and pins them above your head. "Look at how wet and needy you are for me. Filthy slut." His fingers had managed to teasingly feel through the fabric covering your soaking folds. Annoyed at how teasingly slow Dabi is being, you drags him up the stairs and into a room. The room is empty, it contains a bed, a drawer in the corner of the room, decorated with colourful lights and a window wall covered by curtains.

Wasting no time, Dabi grabs a fistful of your hair and slams the door shut. " Strip." is all he says. " Don't make me repeat myself." You find yourself, slowly sliding off clothing, one piece at a time. When your hands travel to your panties, Dabi stops you and lifts you up by your legs before walking over to the mirror planted above the drawers. Your eyes pay close attention to how he brushes his thumb against your throbbing clit, shuddering at the slightest touch. The man hooks his fingers around your underwear, peeling it off. Your bare cunt is exposed, glistening in erotic juices from the high level of arousal. Without another second being wasted, Dabi's fingers find themselves inside your soaked pussy. His fingers begin to pump in and out of you whilst he wraps his hand around your neck. The filthy noises being let out by the contact made only increased your arousal. Dabi took note of that, of how your hips begin to thrust eagerly in hopes of more pleasure. He starts scissoring the two fingers inside you to stretch you out, before inserting three. With each pump and curl his fingers do within you constantly hit again your g- spot. The pleasure fogged your mind, and your legs beginning to shake from such intense pleasure.

" So you are a good girl after all, taking these fingers so well." You don't respond, all that can be let out from your mouth is moans expressing the need for your climax to be reached. But your pleasure begins to fade as Dabi's fingers slip out of your stimulated cunt. He uses his hand to choke you and forcefully grabs your face, making you look at yourself in the mirror. Heated face, your hole fluttering against nothing, your tongue sticking out and makeup running down your face. " You see yourself, that is what a cum slut looks like." A moment of silence passes as you try to recover your breath, your chest falling and rising rapidly. " Let's show the whole world how much needy you are for cock." He whispers in your neck, sending shivers throughout your body.

He continues to hold you upright, bringing you close to his chest and walking towards the window wall. The view of the city is on full display, the lights brightening the darkened sky and your naked body pressed up against the glass as is also on full exposure. You feel his tip prodding against your entrance alongside the piercing on his dick. The man places his hands on your hips, gripping them tightly before slamming into you. You feel his thumb stretching your mouth open, increasing the volume of your erotic moans, the sound of skin slapping against each other and your coated arousal making the whole situation a lot filthy. He continues to press you up against the glass, breasts and cheeks pressed against the window wall.

"Do you love being my fuck toy? My cum dumpster? Answer me bitch." He growls yanking your hair and violently shaking your ass. A masochistic smile spreads across your face and you nod excitedly, letting out more moans.

"F-fuck, don't stop Dabi." You stutter brokenly, overly enjoying the never-ending pleasure. He begins to thrust faster, your sex clenching around his desperately hoping for the knot to be undone. " You only cum when I tell you to. Got it?" You nod rapidly, focusing solely on the satisfaction taking over your mind. After a few deep thrusts your legs begin to shake the command to " Cum." caused your legs to shake as you ride your high. Your face is flushed face, you gasp for air and your legs shake.

"Good girl."

111 notes · View notes