#also i feel bad for not being able to get into recoil music but i literally listened to luscious apparatus and it scared me off lmao

[some-greatreward]

man it is so weird to get into depeche mode as a new fan and just see online commentary swamped with brainless comments like “WHEN IS ALAN COMING BACK” - and going, oh wow, this guy left recently??? that’s kinda sad - and then finding out that noooo, this guy has literally not been in the band since before i was even alive lmfao

[onigiriico]

Fuuta audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify | YT Music ]

WELL THIS SURE WAS. AN EXPERIENCE. I’m pretty sure this is the fastest I have translated a vd since Mikoto’s & that speaks for itself tbh lol

As always, if you spot any mistranslations, have questions about specific lines, want to use this translation for something, etc., feel free to send me an ask or reach out to me on Twitter and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

F: Hmph. Took your sweet time, Warden.

E: Fuuta… you… (sits down) Are you okay? That… does it hurt?

F: What, you’re interested in this injury? (laughs) Looks nasty, doesn’t it?

E: (noise of agreement)

F: Even now, my whole body still hurts so bad I can’t stand it… I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind. If old man Kazui hadn’t been there, this wouldn’t have been the end of it. Geez, people who resort to violence are the worst, aren’t they?

E: Yeah. Trying to resolve conflict through violence is unacceptable.

F: Is that so?

E: That’s… Kotoko did that, right?

F: Huh? You sure seem interested. You were the one who allowed her to do that, weren’t you?

E: No, that’s—

F; Are you satisfied? Since you decided not to forgive me. (laughs) Are you satisfied, dishing out punishments that are easy to understand?

E: That’s wrong…!

F: Huh?

E: I didn’t wish for you to get a punishment like this! And I didn’t instruct Kotoko to do that, either. Punishments executed through violence…

F: Huh…

E: I didn’t think it would turn out this way.

F: (laughs)

E: What’s so funny?

F: Big words. You did want this – this. Me looking like this

E: You’re wrong! Finding out why you all became murderers and figuring out how to judge you – that’s all I’m looking to do—

F: Hey. Look at me. My right eye. It looks awful, doesn’t it? This is what happens when you get stepped on with those safety boot-like shoes. – Don’t recoil like that, that’s hurtful. According to Shidou, it’s likely that I won’t ever be able to see [with this eye] again. Sucks, huh.

E: I didn’t—

F: “I didn’t want that to happen,” is it? But y’know, thanks to this pain, I finally figured out what the whole deal about Milgram is.

E: What do you mean?

F: I mean, you forgave Kotoko, right? You affirmed her, right? Her belief that “it’s fine to do whatever to people who have done something wrong”.

E: How do you know about that…?

F: She told me while she was beating me up. How she thinks it’s okay for her to do anything she wants to people who have done wrong, no matter the severity of their crime. And she left the judgment of that up to you.

E: …

F: You forgave her for feeling that way. You–

E: It’s true that I got a bad feeling about that side of her. When she said there are times where it’s necessary to stand up as justice against evil… (?)

F: (laughs) Milgram changed shape according to your judgment. The standards of judgment, the world that you want… this is what they’re all about, huh?

E: … It’s not like that…!

F: Not forgiving me, but forgiving Kotoko… that’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Isn’t this the result you wanted? (leans back) You’re laughing, aren’t you? Even now, seeing what shape I’m in.

E: You’re wrong! I—

F: “...didn’t think it’d turn out like this” – right?

E: A-ah…

F: I get that. I get it.

E: Fuuta…

F: But still… why? (screams) Me, too! I was like that, too! I also didn’t think it’d turn out that way!

E: Fuuta…

F: I’m in the same boat as you, and yet– and yet— You didn’t forgive me, did you!? What did I do? All I did was say that what’s wrong is wrong! I was just going off at a bad person online! I didn’t even take it as far as to be violent towards them, unlike what you’re doing right now!

E: Still, Milgram has judged that you’re a murderer!

F: …You…! – Ack, it hurts…

E: …

F: …Apparently they’re dead. That’s true.

E: Then what you did wasn’t “just” to go off at someone online. You killed someone.

F: But all I know is the outcome of them being dead! There’s no way to know whether that had anything to do with my actions, is there?!

E: Milgram judged that—

F: Like I know about any of that!

E: Calm down, Fuuta. You’ll make your injuries worse.

F: Right…! It wasn’t just me alone who was ganging up on the person who died! There’s no way to know whose comments lead to their death!

E: That might be true. You might not be the only one who needs to be judged for this. But…

F: Then – isn’t it weird that I’m the only one who has to go through all of this? Being locked up in a weird nonsensical prison, having to let some brat lecture me, being faced with eyes constantly judging me… And even if– even if the person I was picking on online died… I didn’t think they would die! I just thought that wrong things are wrong, and that a crime is a crime! You get that, don’t you? See? Aren’t we the same?

E: You and me… the same? Me, who decided not to forgive you without thinking that you would get severely injured, being the same as you, who killed without thinking that the other person would die – is that what you’re trying to say?

F: That’s right. What’s the difference? Mahiru is still on the brink of death! If she had died from that, we’d be exactly the same!

E: …Don’t make a fool of me.

F: Huh?

E: I’ve seen it! The way you got amusement out of your actions like it was just a game! The way you so easily elevated yourself to act as a one-person jury! That, being the same as me?!

F: …!

E: You’ve got to be kidding. I am the Warden of Milgram, the one who judges your sins. It’s not just you and Mahiru – I’ve faced all ten of you prisoners with my own life. Don’t lump me in with someone like you, who used someone’s sins for cheap entertainment!

F: (bursts into laughter) You’ve gotta be a complete idiot!

E: Excuse me?

F: Just how big of a deal do you think you are? Seems like that fancy hat and outfit of yours are making you feel real high and mighty.

E: Careful with your words, prisoner no.3.

F: You faced all of this seriously? For real? You didn’t feel the slightest bit entertained by my crime or my punishment?

E: What are you…?

F: Listen. I could hear your voice, too. The whole time. Voices I didn’t even want to hear… the whole time! Even if I covered my ears, I could still hear them in my head!

E: …

F: Countless voices, judging me with all sorts of words… out of interest, just for fun, out of resentment. (laughs) None of that made you sound like as good of a person as you’re telling me you are. You haven’t been any different from me. 

E: Yuno mentioned hearing them too… countless voices…

F: (laughs) There’s nothing that sets you and me apart. You’re also getting entertainment out of my– out of our sins!

E: I… just do this because I want to get to know more about y—

F: (laughs) You and I are exactly the same breed! The only difference between us is the clothes we’re wearing. Like I’d let someone like this judge whether I should be forgiven or not!

E: Fuuta…

F: So I can’t be forgiven, huh? Then you better not forgive yourself, either!

E: Fuuta!

F: What!?

E: … I get what you’re saying. Let’s say we’re the same. But even so… Even so, I am the Warden!

F: Huh?

E: No matter what you say, I won’t stop doing my job! Even if I mess up along the way, I will judge your sins. No matter what comes out of it, I will take responsibility for my own actions. This is something that I started!

F: … (sighs)

E: …

F: Hm. Is that how it is?

E: …Hey, are you okay, Fuuta?

F: No matter what I say, it’ll fall on deaf ears with you anyway.

E: What’s going on all of a sudden? Getting so docile…

F: …Hey, Es. Please listen.

E: …

F: I don’t want this either. I’m at my limit. I can’t stand it anymore. If someone died because I bashed them online and you find out about it – even if I learn my lesson from it, that won’t put an end to all of this. (?)

E: Fuuta…

F: Listen— I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done too. I’ll accept this pain. So— Please. Forgive me, I’m begging you.

E: …

F: It hurt… It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to die. I was scared!

E: Huh.

F: The feeling of getting judged by countless people at once is the worst, too… I can’t sleep, feeling like the whole world is watching me! I’m tired of everything hurting and being difficult! Please! I’m sorry! Es!

E: …Fuuta. It’s not like I hate you guys.

F: …

E: I’ve been by your side for a long time, and I’ve had a look inside your hearts. Even if you are murderers, you’re no longer just strangers to me. That connection is something that can’t be cut so easily.

F: R-right—!?

E: Seeing you hurt like this makes me regret my actions too. (deep breath) I’m feeling torn, since my judgment might have made the situation more complicated for you guys. And also, first and foremost – honestly, I’m starting to think of you all as something like comrades.

F: Es…!

E: It’s a pity…

(machinery starts whirring, bell rings)

E: …that I’m… the Warden.

F: Eh?

E: No matter what kind of suffering you’re going through, that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to evade justice. (?)

F: … That’s…!

E: Either way, I have yet to figure out what the relationship between your current, hurt self and the crime that you committed is.

F: …

E: Of course, I can’t blame you for not having words of apology to say to the person you killed.

F: …!

E: [But] if you apologize to me about things that happened in the past – it’s not like I care.

F: …! You’re wrong! You’re wrong!

E: Thank you, Fuuta. I’ve realized that this requires resolve.

F: …!

E: The warden… I have to judge the sins of my comrades without holding back, even while they’re crying in front of me. (deep breath) That’s all! The interrogation is over!

F: Es! Es!! – You…! I’ll kill you!

E: Heh.

F: Are you listening?! Forgive me! If you don't forgive me, I’ll kill you, y’know!

E: It’s alright. If you and I really are the same kind of person like you say, I’ll end up like that sooner or later anyway. – Prisoner no.3, Fuuta. Sing your sins.

[capricioussun]

don't feel bad about self reblogs, it's always awesome to see your art on my dash and I'm sure I'm not alone with this!

Awe, that's very sweet of you to say!

Tbth i have a really strange relationship with posting online – on one hand, I love just posting whatever and really really enjoy interacting with others, but on the other hand, I'm not sure if it's RSD or what, but i experience like. Social recoil? Where i tend to immediately regret and/or worry over the perception of stuff i post (way more than would be considered normal), especially with posts or reblogs that hardly really garner any interaction at all.

I know it's normal for artists of all kinds to be disheartened by things like that, and I don't necessarily create for others, but that is why i post it online- i mean...why else would you? I see that a lot, people feeling poorly about low interaction, and others trying to encourage them by telling them to make art for themselves and to not worry about it, but that's always come across a little odd to me. No, you probably shouldn't be doing something if you're only doing it for attention, but isn't interaction the point of sharing the things you make online?

Especially so in the case of people who really want to make a living being an artist in their chosen "field". To some degree, you do have to treat it like a business. You do have to sell yourself and try to "grow your audience" if you have any chance of making any sort of income at all, just like any self employment type of job. It feels condescending to see others tell artists who get frustrated with social media constantly doing things to make it harder to have any reach at all that they should care less about the algorithm or numbers when a lot of these people don't have a choice. It feels like hardly a day goes by I don't see posts on twitter or tumblr of someone taking emergency commissions just to cover rent or food for a few days.

Got a bit off topic there, but i sort of rest in a very strange place with my art in that, skill level wise, I'm very much an amateur, but due to Life Issues I won't get into, I can't hold a "normal" job, and I've been constantly kind of battling myself for a couple years now on how to approach trying to make Doing Art Online my career.

I need to put in the work to improve my art so i can not just post more frequently but hopefully get more commission work (which i would honestly also enjoy, I love making things for others, it's one of my favorite things about being able to post online), but i also want to improve my skill level so i can make the things I want to as well (I'm also unfortunately plagued by the Kind Of Wants To Do Everything desires and also want to make plush, music, 3D and live 2D models, and I'd love to get into streaming proper at some point).

So aaallllll of this to say, self reblogging is a big thing for artists on tumblr these days, esp as i see more and more talk about how low interactions gotten on here in the past few years, it's rough! But i also feel like im not...skilled(?) enough to do Proper Online Artist things. I guess. Which is dumb but ah I do not control the chokehold whichever mental issue has on me

[fitzrove]

Hi, it's me again. Did the show do anything different in terms of Elisabeth's "character"? I loved those details for La Mort but it also feels like people aren't great at a balance between them and Elisabeth.

I fully admit that Elisabeth isn't my favourite character, and hence I haven't deep-dived into her characterisation in different productions the same way I have into Der Tod/La Mort, so I'll be much less eloquent when describing her. However, I really liked how they approached her character!

First of all, you should know that Bruxellons (a small production with no understudies for anyone) ran into some trouble right before the premiere, because Marie-Pierre de Brienne (principal Elisabeth who had rehearsed the role and already played it in the previews) couldn’t perform. They had to cancel three shows (incl. the original premiere) and were desperately looking for someone who could cover the role on extremely short notice. Enter Romina Palmeri, who agreed to do it on a Sunday night, had to fly in from another country, first rehearsed with the rest of the cast on Wednesday and was on stage for the premiere on Thursday. So four days of preparation in total. I was there at the premiere and she knocked it out of the park - you seriously couldn’t tell she came in on short notice.

I only got to see Romina’s performance, so this writeup will be based on her acting choices - don’t know if it was different with Marie-Pierre, who was fortunately able to return to the role after a week or so. (However, as the show’s run was extended because of the cancellations and MPdB wasn’t available for the new dates, Romina got to play the role again for the last few weeks of the show’s run, including the derniere.)

Elisabeth at Bruxellons

To me, what most characterises Elisabeth in this production is that she has some rebellious, strong-willed and spirited teenager energy throughout. She’s so lively and sweet at the beginning - in Wie Du, Max gives her a book as a parting gift, and she’s extremely excited about it; in Bad Ischl there’s a really funny moment where she slumps down on a chair without much care for ladylike manners and Ludovika struggles to get her (Sisi’s) hoop skirt to settle properly, it keeps flipping up.

At the risk of this turning into a Brussels Franz Josef appreciation post: god, he’s the best FJ to ever FJ. First time I’ve ever cared so deeply about the character. He’s perpetually anxious and conflicted over his duties and his wish to be gentle and good, and the reason he picks Sisi, to me, seems to be that it’s his one act of choosing his own happiness (acting according to his secret wish to be a compassionate free spirit) over the pressure he faces from his mother and the court around him, his one attempt at escaping the stifling social order he’s been raised to navigate within. Sisi seems to see this and Nichts ist schwer is so good because of it - they genuinely care for each other on a deeper level than “love at first sight”. FJ is so shy when he first takes Sisi’s hand and Sisi is happy to encourage him, and most of Nichts ist schwer has them stand together in a world of their own, happy. She loves him and thinks they can really make it work!!

And then it’s interrupted by Alle Fragen. Elisabeth seems a bit frightened by the ceremonial procession around her - well, I guess anyone would be with that organ music - and both her and FJ are equally anxious at being gawked at from all sides. When they stand together and family members come to congratulate them a few interesting things happen: Max reaches out to take Sisi's hand in his own and say something to her (maybe to plead with her or to offer words of encouragement) but Ludovika slaps it away; Sisi frightenedly reaches out to Helene but she (clearly bitter about Bad Ischl) recoils and bows to her with a cold smile instead, making it really clear that she's empress now and it makes her isolated. She seems devastated by this. So, along these lines, it really makes FJ’s refusal to side with her after/during Eine Kaiserin muss glänzen - even though he really wants to be free, but seeing the realities of the world around him, he feels like he can’t - feel like an even stronger betrayal.

Ich gehör nur mir has her take on a somewhat colder, more contemptuous and cynical attitude. It’s maybe even the beginning of her starting to harden herself to the world around her to survive. Of course, she’s still sweet and triumphant - but the way she turns her back at the audience and stares contemptuously at the giant anchor at the side of the stage (the only major, fixed setpiece) for the duration of the instrumental verse is very poignant. She’s turning her back on the power of the empire and choosing herself.

In Spiegel, she’s downright cold to Rudolf. She enters the stage only at the end of the song - Rudolf is too anxious about speaking to her to even approach her directly, he’s singing the song all alone and Elisabeth only walks in right before her lines happen, in her nightgown, reading a book. The line in the translation is “What are you doing here? What is it? You’re bothering me”. She doesn’t really struggle to make a choice between staying completely independent and helping Rudolf, just walks off after dismissing him. Of course, this makes Totenklage even more devastating - she’s very distraught - especially because the actor playing small Rudolf stands to the back of the stage during the number, listening to her, dressed in the veil of the dead.

Schleier fällt: She’s very happy about it, no undercurrent of sadness. She even jumps into La Mort’s arms when he picks her up.

Uhhh... what else? I feel like this will be a bit disappointing. Romina Palmeri is my favourite Elisabeth among all of the different productions for sure, but I still don’t have very deep analysis to give out :’D Mostly I think she’s really pretty and her acting is so good/the choices so interesting that for the first time I actually care about the character and her journey adhajdkjhaj (I’ve been known to skip Elisabeth’s songs, especially nichts nichts gar nichts, while watching bootlegs. Here I wasn’t the least bit bored, which is high praise!)

I actually recommend asking @szabadmadar about Sisi, they’re more well-versed in the character :D (Hope it’s okay to tag you!)

[imkylotrash]

Till Forever Falls Apart

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Request: Could I have reader x Kaz Brekker with this prompt: "We're not just friends and you fucking know it." Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi @alice-the-nerd

"Remember when you first came to me? You couldn't even remove your gloves," you say letting your fingers trace an invisible pattern on his chest. He's lying right next to you in bed wearing nothing except undergarments, and he's not terrified. It's your best work yet.

"I remember. You had quite high prices for a Grisha in hiding." He'd come in the dead of night demanding your services as a Heartrender. You'd just opened up shop under the cover of being a healer that could help with things such as fears or heartache. Kaz wanted you to cure him of his haphephobia. He's so calm now as your hand comes to rest on his stomach.

"I just know what I'm worth," you sigh feeling more than content. You had a very strict rule not to get involved with clients, but Kaz was different from the day you met him. His progress had been slow and painful and somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you'd found yourself developing feelings for the leader of the Crows. Now, he came by whenever he wasn't working a job. You know it had surprised him just how addicting it can be to be able to touch someone when you've lived almost an entire life without it.

"Do you think you'd ever go back?" You don't have to ask what he's talking about. There's only one place you could go back to, but you can't in good consciousness return to the Little Palace when you know General Kirigan is in charge. You won't use your powers as a Heartrender to protect his interests, which is the very reason you're in hiding now. You don't leave the Little Palace unless it's in a body bag or in the dead of night.

"No. I'm done being a servant. I deserve my own life." He kisses the top of your head and it tells you more than he could ever express with words. You know you're not an official item, but you're both in too deep at this point. You're his, and he's yours. You'd never be able to bring yourself to leave him.

"I have to go, but I'll be back later tonight." Kaz slowly gets dressed allowing you to admire his frame in the light of the candles. It makes you want to pull him back to bed and do things best not mentioned.

"Hurry back." It's your equivalent to saying you'll miss him. Neither of you are good at expressing your feelings but there are many ways to show it without saying the words directly.

"Always." And Kaz keeps his promise. He returns later that night but he's brought company. You're no stranger to his Crows, but you're not sure how you feel about him bringing them here. You never bring anyone here to make sure you have a safe space, and now two people you don't necessarily trust know where you hide.

"What's going on?" you ask already on alert. The look in Kaz' eyes tells you he doesn't want to be here like this yet he's still standing here with two others behind him.

"This is my friend Y/N. They're a Heartrender."

"Oh, Kazzie. I didn't know you knew this sort of company," Jesper teases and you feel like showing him just what kind of company you are. But it's not enough to distract you from the fact that Kaz just introduced you as his friend. As if he wasn't in your bed just hours ago. He doesn't miss the change in your expression but refrains from commenting on it.

"So, you need a Heartrender?" You'll table the discussion for now, but Kaz isn't out of the woods. He's just lucky you're good at being professional.

"Well..." Kaz starts explaining with the casual interruption from Jesper while Inej stays completely quiet. She's watching your every move, and you can't decide if she's intrigued by you or scared of you. Heartrenders really get a bad reputation because of what you can choose to do with your powers. You've been able to kill people since you were 10, but you've never used your powers to do so - only disable.

"Are you in?" Kaz asks but of course, you are. You could never deny Kaz. But your hands are shaking when he leaves with his Crows only to return half an hour later. You don't understand why he's putting such an effort into hiding his relationship with you.

"Hey," he says resting a hand on your shoulder, but you pull away. You don't want to be touched by him right now, which also serves as a horrible punishment to Kaz. He's gotten so used to touching you that he feels something pulling at his heartstrings when he's denied it.

"Apparently, we're just friends. I don't do that with my friends." Your ego is hurt, and you're ready to take it out on Kaz.

"What did you want me to say? We are friends, aren't we?" he asks, but you're not letting him off the hook. You want him to admit that you have something more than a friendship.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” You touch his cheek knowing he won’t recoil - not from you, never from you.

“I can touch you when no one else can. It’s an insult to us to pretend I’m just a friend.” He closes his eyes taking a second just to enjoy the feeling of skin against skin.

"What would you have me say? That I love you? Because I do, you know I do. I'd go to the ends of the world with you if you asked." His eyes fixate you and urging you to believe what he's saying.

"That's exactly what I want you to say."

[ariadne-does-her-best]

Love in G Major

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 2,500+

Warnings: Kidnapping but nothing graphic happens

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my first time posting a fic so characters may be a little OOC. Please let me know if you guys liked this and if you want to, feel free to send a request! Also, I might make a series of Soulmate! Aus since I have a good idea for Jasons thought out. xo, Ariadne

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, you’re one of the lucky ones to receive a physical sign of your soulmate in the form of a timer counting down to when you’ll meet. But after being kidnapped by the Riddler, hours before you’re supposed to meet them, you can only pray that the Riddler of all people isn’t your soulmate.

Five hours.

You swayed to the rich sound of your cello, eyes closed, as you shifted your hand down into fourth position. You rested for a beat before going down bow, still doing vibrato even after the piece was done. The audience waited for a sign that you were done with the piece, be it that your hand stopped moving or you physically stood up and told them to clap. Instead, you opened your eyes and smiled as the diners took their cue to start clapping before inclining your head in thanks as you waited for the applause to die down.

It was a normal Saturday at the small but expensive Italian restaurant you performed at. You weren’t supposed to be there since you had requested to take today off but the owner had still put you down to play during half of the two-hour live performance time slot. At the end of the day, money was money and who were you to ever say no to the thousands you always received in tips. After all, you could only think about the new bow you could buy with the money. Which would lead to you sounding better, getting more gigs, and making more money. The process was like a cycle, really.

After the applause stopped and those who were up putting money in your jar had sat down in their seats, you sat back down and started playing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude. You could hear the pianist who was supposed to take over for the rest of the night setting up, his hands flipping through his many copies of sheet music.

Aside from the sounds of cutlery and the wisps of conversation, there was not much noise other than the smooth sound of your cello. But even if there were no noises, something still bothered you.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. You could feel someone staring at you, which was normal since you were performing on a stage with your whole being on display, but it was longer and more intense than normal. Letting your eyes wander around the crowded restaurant, your eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes. You smiled slightly at the young girl before wincing as the slight burning of your wrist got worse. You continued playing, closing your eyes as you tried to ignore the burning of your timer. Your soulmate timer.

You were one of the lucky individuals who had a visible connection to their soulmate. Instead of feeling a spark whenever you touch your soulmate, like your neighbors do, or being able to finally see color when you touch your soulmate, like your parents, you were one of the few lucky ones who could count down to the precise moment when you would meet your soulmate. And that was exactly what you did. When you were thirteen and your parents had explained your soulmate mark to you, the first thing you did was calculate when you would meet your soulmate according to your timer and write it down in your diary.

It was impossible for you to ignore the burning on your wrist, impossible for you to not grin as you played. But your grin was wiped off when you heard glass shatter and a scream.

Four hours.

You had no idea where you were but judging by the smell of the place and the fact that two men wearing green suits with question marks were staring at you, you were not at the restaurant.

‘At least I still have my cello,’ you thought as you pulled against the ropes that tied you against a pillar. The henchmen were talking between themselves as they approached the pillar where you were tied. They started untying you from the pillar and you took this opportunity to suddenly stand up and run.

You heard one of the henchmen curse but you ran in random zigzag lines towards where the door was. It was weird that the henchmen didn’t shoot at you or even attempt to stop you. But you ignored the niggling in the back of your mind. Wrenching the door open, you looked back at where your cello lay and turned back around to walk towards your freedom.

Except it wasn’t your freedom, it was the Riddler in his forest green suit and bowler combo. A rather tacky-looking combo in your opinion but hey, you weren’t going to be the one to break the news to a murderous criminal. He looked up at your sudden entrance and smiled.

“Here she is,” he said, yanking you into the room where the guests of the restaurant were tied onto the seats of an auditorium. You shivered as the cold air hit you and you looked around the room, taking in the TV production set up and the large stage that covered up more than half of the room there.

The Riddler dragged you up onto the stage, and you couldn’t help but wince as the harsh lights burned your eyes.

“What am I doing on stage,” you asked the Riddler as you covered your eyes with your hands. The Riddler’s smile became somehow larger, looking rather comical for a second before becoming more uncomfortable to look at. “Riddle me this,” the Riddler started as he pushed you down onto a chair, “what is it that cannot open any locks and yet has 24 keys?”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you rubbed at your wrist, the burning sensation somehow getting worse.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled as a minute passed.

“Well, if you don’t know, why don’t we give you a little motivation to figure out the right answer?”

And with that, the Riddler drew out a gun and pointed it at the closest person seated at the stage, the pianist. At this point, you could hear the sobs wracking through his body and you thought about his elderly parents who depended on him to pay for their surgeries. You don’t know how you could live with his blood on your hands.

“Wait, I have the answer,” you cried out, reaching out to grab the Riddler’s elbow but stopping. Something told you that that wouldn’t be a good idea and he might take that opportunity to shoot you.

“Well, do go on.”

“It’s music,” you said, staring at the deranged man’s face. He broke into peals of laughter, clapping his hands, as he tried to settle himself. It was unnerving how he could flip the switch easily from being a man ready to kill another to laughing as if you were the funniest person on Earth.

“That’s correct. And with that, let us start the games.”

Three hours.

After asking you his initial riddle, the Riddler had quickly set up a broadcast to be shown to all of Gotham, using the footage that one of his henchmen had taken of him questioning you as the intro.

“Batman, I have two riddles for you,” he said, addressing the camera. If you weren’t stuck on stage with two guns pointed at you as you tuned a somewhat cheap cello, you would have sighed. Why couldn’t he also include picture puzzles or something else for once? But you were stuck on stage so you just carefully tuned the instrument, hoping that none of the guards took your movement as you tuned as a sign of your sad attempt at running away.

“There are as many constellations in the sky as there are keys in a piano. What number am I? There you will find the answer to, ‘What is it that makes songs but you will never hear it sing?’ You have an hour to find them before I start playing my little game.”

As if that's your cue, one of the gunmen poked your back and you tensed, surprised by how cold the metal was through your sweater. You quickly quit your tuning and started playing the op. 88, hoping that maybe Batman or Robin would recognize it. It would probably be difficult for them to recognize since they probably weren’t as necessarily as interested in music as you were. And if they were, it’d probably be a little difficult to hear and piece together the piece since you were playing more stiffly than your usual languid movements.

You just hoped that they could understand the Riddler’s riddle and show up to save the night.

Two hours.

An hour has passed of you sitting in your seat playing your cello. Your butt was stiff from the hard chair, your back hurt from your stiff posture, and your wrist was burning pretty badly. At the thought of your wrist, your mind recoiled slightly. What if your soulmate was one of the Riddler’s henchmen? Or the Riddler himself? The thought of it made you want to puke.

“Well Gotham,” the Riddler said, standing in front of the mic as he paused to look dramatically at the camera. “Batman still hasn’t arrived yet so I will be starting my game. And today we have a very special guest that will be playing with me.”

At this, the goons started applauding and you heard a child in the audience cry even louder.

“Our special guest is the one and only (Y/N) (L/N) who has been playing such lovely music for us during our broadcast.”

You sat in your chair, music forgotten as another stage light shone on you.

“Now come on (Y/N), don’t be shy. I know that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity but I don’t bite.”

You shivered under the Riddler’s gaze and got up, trying your best not to stumble as you walked towards him. Your breathing was labored now and the closer you got to the Riddler, the more you felt like you were going to faint.

“(Y/N) here is going to play a simple game. She’s going to play a song that shows up in the cards,” he held up a large stack of index cards and fanned them out on the podium. The crying from the audience became even louder, with ‘Please, no’s mixed in. You turned to watch the small girl from the restaurant being dragged onto the stage, the bright lights highlighting the tears running down her face.

“And if (Y/N) here cannot play the song or if she plays even a single note or rhythm incorrectly, little Bella here will be dunked into this vat of water. For each mistake, she will be kept there for thirty seconds longer.”

You watched in horror as the girl was dragged towards what looked like a giant hole in the ground filled with water. She struggled against her restraints as she cried, her bleary eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You looked over in the corner of your eye and saw the familiar red and yellow of Robin.

As you turned around to shake the Riddler’s hand in acceptance of the rules, you curled your hand in a fist.

“Let the game begin,” he shouted, smiling at the camera before he went to choose a card.

“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to change the rules,” you said before pulling back your fist and punching him in the jaw.

One hour.

You were hiding in the corner of the stage, hidden by the curtains as you tried to untie Bella. The poor girl was trying to hold her sobs in but some still escaped, sounding misplaced in the sounds of Batman and Robin beating the Riddler & co. into oblivion.

You shushed her and tried to twist the rope and push it through the knot when a birdarang flew through the gap of the curtains and sliced your cheek along with the stray strands of hair nearby before hitting the wood paneling behind you. You ignored the blood that was slowly dripping down your face before grabbing the birdarang. You probably grabbed it wrong since it cut the palm of your hand, making you curse under your breath as you started sawing through the multiple knots in the ropes around Bella’s hands and feet.

Once she was free, the little girl tried to get up and run but you grabbed her, putting a finger up to your mouth and cupping a hand behind your ear, whispering “listen.”

You both sat there, listening to the sounds of Robin giggling as he punched someone. You furrowed your brow at that, wondering who exactly was the boy crazy enough to dress up as a traffic signal and fight crime with an equally weird man dressed as a bat.

You slowly started standing up once the sounds of Robin’s laughter had receded before holding a hand out to Bella. The young girl grabbed your hand and you both started edging your way off of the stage area where the fighting was taking place and towards her parents. Batman and Robin were tying people up when you finally found Bella’s father, the sound of the GCPD’s sirens in the background becoming louder and louder as they came closer.

As you and the other hostages made your way out, making sure to jump across the dock to the other side so you don’t fall into the disgusting water down below, you felt someone grab your wrist. You turned and smiled at Bella’s father.

“Why don’t you go and seek some medical assistance?”

“I will sir,” you replied before making your way to the paramedics, letting them fuss over your cuts. You could see Batman speaking to Commissioner Gordon but you couldn’t see Robin near them.

“I think you have something of mine,” Robin said with a grin as he held his hand towards you. You were surprised to see him in front of you but you smiled at him confused.

“I don’t know what you’re…,” you trailed off when you looked down to where he was pointing to see that you were still holding his birdarang.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know… maybe I should keep it. Something to remind me of this day,” you teased as you held up the birdarang so it was eye-level.

“Alright, you can keep it. Just don’t tell Batsie,” he said with a wink, causing you to giggle. “I’m sorry for cutting you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, wincing as the burning on your wrist became worse. Robin also gave out a hiss of pain at the same time as you, causing you to both stare at each other. You reached your hand out towards him slowly, letting your hands ghost over his cheekbones slightly when you felt the telltale cooling sensation of your wrist.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” he said, and you nodded, following behind him to an empty alleyway.

“Let me introduce myself again,” he started taking off his mask, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

You were met with the most beautiful pair of lilac-blue eyes, causing you to catch your breath in the back of your throat.

“And I’m (Y/N).”

“Why don’t we get out of here and get to know each other better, princess?”

“I would like that, love bird.”

[shorkbrian]

Father Figure - Disappointed

Prelude - I get so many asks about the same thing and so I put them at the bottom lol otherwise this would be so long. Also I combined them, RIP sorry pals I suck. Anyways, remember guys, bad people exist. If someone is hurting you or you suspect someone you know is being hurt, please talk to someone, please don’t let yourself settle into “This is normal, this is fine”. It’s not normal, and it’s not fine. The national sexual assault hotline in America is 1-800-656-4673 and it’s from a organization called RAINN.

https://www.rainn.org

They have a chat service too, if you prefer texting over calling.

Please stay safe y’all

Pairing - Stepdad! Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - Pseudo incest, manipulation, power dynamics, NSFW, noncon, dubcon, mentions of unsafe sex, slight degradation. Belittling, controlling Aizawa.

Music -  https://open.spotify.com/track/5nHTLEJ10zaqdnKqLriah4?si=Bs0su-fBRxWoE3jefCdPIA

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Why? Why, huh? Do I not provide you with very little thing you need, anything you could ever want?”

You dip your head in shame, sock-clad feet rubbing against each other nervously. “I just wanted to-“

“To disappoint me, yes, you’ve done that very well.” Aizawa’s tone is harsh, incensed. “I catch you trying to sneak out again, and all you can do is offer excuses.”

Biting your lip, you spread your hands quickly, trying to appease him. “I was just going to get you a present! For-for your birthday!”

A weak excuse, one that neither of you bought.  Aizawa stood up from the couch, shaking his head.

“My birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks and you know it. Plus, we both know that you’ll be the only present I unwrap on my birthday.”

The sordid promise made your heart drop, tensing up as your stepdad came closer and closer, until he stood in front of you. Tall, imposing, irritated.

“I’m sorry….” You manage, staring down at your feet. It’s too intimidating to try and meet his gaze, those light grey eyes that fill you with fear and guilt.

“I’m sure you are. How are you going to make it up to me?” And there it was, the always-dreaded initiation. You often wondered how Aizawa would be like with a woman his age, someone willing and eager to please him. Would he force them like this?

A minute stretched by while your mind worked, trying desperately to think of some other way to soothe his ire. Every time you undressed for him, every time he touched your body, every time you were forced to touch him made you feel dirty, tainted, disgusting.

Damaged goods.

“I can choose-“

“No!” You cried, head snapping up, fingers flying to his shirt to fist in the soft fabric before you remembered yourself. “I mean, no Dad, I’ll make it up to you.”

The words felt vile in your mouth, like poison. But of your two options, having the slightest bit of control over the situation was preferable. Whenever your stepdad chose some way for you to show that you were sorry, it hurt. He’d introduced you to anal, forcing you to take his thick fingers deep, stretching you out with various plugs and toys, drizzling more and more lube into your hole until you were loose enough to take him.

This way, you could avoid his painful favorite.

Taking a deep breath, you steered him back to the couch, and the man sat, looking up at you expectantly.

You dropped to your knees, spreading his thighs with your hands, the limbs giving way easily. The waistband of his sweats was pulled down easily, your fingers hooking into his briefs to pull them down as well.

He was already hard.

“C’mon, don’t make me wait.” Your stepdad urged, one hand coming to lace through your hair, loosely gripping the aback of your head. You suppose it could be taken as a reassuring gesture, but you knew what it really was; a threat.

You kept your face neutral as you kissed the mushroom tip, a bead of precum wetting your lips. You’d earned quickly that making any sort of face at the sight, smell, or feel of Aizawa’s dick would be met with swift punishment. He’d shove his cock down your throat and keep it there until your legs went numb, until tears pricked at your eyes.

And you’d still have to suck him off afterwards.

So you kept your face relaxed, slowly licking along the length, fondling his balls, kissing the base of his cock noisily.

A long lick from the base to the tip before you took him in your mouth, tucking your teeth behind your lips. Your tongue took over now, swirling around the head, laving broad strips against the very tip, swiping the precum away on each lick.

Raising your eyes to gauge his reaction was a mistake, Aizawa staring down at you with a hooded gaze, relaxing back into the couch.

“Make it up to me.”

You sucked, hard, swallowing around his dick as you eased it towards the back of your throat. You had to build up to deepthroating, still had trouble with it and your gag reflex, but your stepdad was a diligent teacher.

He was holding himself back, thighs flexing aside your head as he stopped himself from thrusting up into your mouth, from hunching over and using you like a toy, making you gag and sob and drool around his length. Aizawa wanted you to do all the work, wanted you to show him how sorry you really were by making him cum.

Moving your head faster, you bobbed on his length, cringing internally as drool slipped down your chin, towards your chest. You hated when it got messy.

Aizawa placed his other hand against your cheek, stroking the side of your face, but you could tell that he was really feeling for the outline of his cock in your mouth, thick, stocky fingers pressing insistently.

You made a little noise of protest, quickly trying to morph it into a moan, pulling off of him to catch your breath. Your hands twisted around his length, stimulating him in place of your mouth while you breathed, sloppy, slick sounds being heard each time your fist met his pelvis.

“Do it like I taught you.” Were his next instructions, Aizawa obviously getting bored by your hand job. You wanted to kick, and scream, and cry, maybe bite his dick off.

But he’d trained you well.

So you took a deep breath before plunging back down again, moving your head enthusiastically as you throat-fucked yourself, willing your gag reflex to stay calm.

It was only when you felt his dick slip into your throat did your stepdad start to make noise, groaning a little bit as he fisted his hand further into your hair. He was subtly guiding you with the hand, forward and back, forward and back, but letting you move about freely.

After all, you were supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s it, just like that.”

His orgasm built up slowly, cock twitching inside your mouth as you worked him higher and higher, hands playing with the length of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You had to pull off once more to breath, chest heaving, desperately trying to jerk him to completion while his length wasn’t lodged in your mouth.

No such luck.

He came in your mouth, hips bucking a little as he released his milky seed. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your fists as you willed yourself not to recoil, not to get sick, not to make a face or do anything else to earn Aizawa’s anger.

You swallowed it down without a fuss, hating yourself for every second you spent being compliant.

But what else could you do?

Cock softening against his thigh, you tucked him back into his sweatpants, leaning your face against his leg to rest for a second.

Your stomach felt warm, full. It made you so sick.

“That was good, you’re learning.” Even his praise was clinical, almost detached. You hated him.

“I’m still upset with you though.”

The admission made you lift your head, turning to your stepfather with a quizzical expression, hurt, feeling betrayed.

“But dad, I just-I got you off? Isn’t that enough?” You wanted to add a “please”, beg for him to say yes, that all is forgiven, that he wasn’t mad anymore, that he wasn’t going to hurt you, or make you do anything else.

Aizawa tutted. “It’s enough when I say it is, and you messed up big time. You think a measly little blowjob makes up for all the shit you’ve tried to pull today? I don’t think so.”

“But, wasn’t it-didn’t I do good? I thought-“

“It was nice, you’re getting the hang of how to move your tongue. But I think there should be a little more effort put into your apology.”

You wanted to cry. This wasn’t fair, you had done enough already, wasn’t he satisfied? Why was he like this, so creepy and gross? Why couldn’t you have had a normal stepfather, who treated you like a normal person, who didn’t rip away your autonomy and freedom.

Aizawa could tell you weren’t fond of having to continue, but he wasn’t fond of your behavior.

A sudden jerk from the hand in your hair had you gasping in pain, Aizawa leaning over as he pulled you towards him. Your hands grabbed for his wrists, but he was already talking, anger swimming in those grey eyes of his.

“I’m being lenient with you. Do you understand how awful you’ve been these past few weeks? You’re pathetic. You think I wouldn’t catch you trying to sneak out the back door? You think I wouldn’t notice the hickies on your neck after you come home from “hanging out” with your girls?”

Your blood ran ice cold, draining out of your face. You thought you had told your (tentative, maybe) boyfriend to not leave any marks, that your dad would notice, that you’d get in trouble. You though you’d gotten away with that little secret, with the fact that you’ve been seeing someone every time you tell your dad you’re just chilling with friends.

Trying to sneak out the back door had been dumb, but you had felt desperate, upset, detested by your life. Hating the daily routine of being assaulted by your stepdad, being forced to be obedient and docile and cater to his lecherous whims.

Spread your legs when he asks, suck him off under the table when he tells you to, keep the bathroom door unlocked when you take a shower, in the off chance that he’d like to join you.

Not being able to tell anyone, caring the burden of shame and regret like heavy weights on your back.

Having to kiss him on the mouth, feel his stubble burning your cheeks, the sensitive skin of your thighs when he felt particularly giving.

His daily “lessons” almost always made you cry, either his harsh words or his insistence that you learn how to please him, it was only your natural role.

A daughter should always do her best to please her daddy.

Even just a night of freedom away from his grasp was welcomed, savored as a treat. You just needed to get away, but even that was asking too much.

“So-“ Aizawa released you, and you immediately rubbed at your stinging scalp. “What do you think I should do?”

“I-I wanna go to bed.” You mumbled, eyes darting wildly around the room, focusing anywhere except the dark-haired man in front of you.

“Oh? I didn’t expect you to be so forward about that.” He taunted, leaning forward onto his knees, lacing his fingers together with a mean smirk.

“No, I want to sleep….. please.” You knew that Aizawa had intentionally misunderstood you, intent on making you plead with him for simple mercies like sleep.

Aizawa sighed, rising to his feet. You scrambled to your feet also, feeling too small and weak kneeling on the floor underneath him like that. Still, he towered over you, running a lazy hand through his dark locks as he regarded you.

“I can’t just let you go unpunished, what kind of father would I be? Letting you lie and sneak around behind my back like this. Your daddy is supposed to care for you. I’d never neglect you.”

You wish he would.

“I learned my lesson dad, I swear. I won’t sneak out, I’ll-I’ll stay home and have my friends over instead of going out! Anything, just-just not……”

Not whatever he had planned for the rest of the night.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples as he circled a hand around your arm, beginning to lead you towards his bedroom down the hall. You wanted to balk, but knew that doing so would only worsen your punishment.

“Thats a start, and we’ll do that moving forward. But you won’t be getting out of a punishment. Offering compromises and begging won’t get you anywhere, even if you do sound sweet.”

Pulling you into his bedroom, your stepdad let go of your arm, closing the door behind you. He moved to turn on a lamp by the bedside, turning off the overhead light so the room was cast in a low, yellow glow.

“Strip, then on the bed.”

You trembled as you slowly shucked off your clothes, Aizawa beginning to do the same, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

But that was normal.

Aizawa was a fit man, able to manhandle you and pin you down, keep you still with the muscles hiding under his skin. But he was a father, and older, his body taking on the characteristics of someone who enjoyed life.

His thighs were thick, his abdomen sturdy. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but his muscles were overplayed with a nice layer of fat. He looked like a bear, with the dark hair on his chest, his thick limbs, his solid frame.

But the man wasn’t shy, and by the time you had stripped down to your panties he was completely nude, pink cock soft against his thigh.

“Dad, I really don’t want to do-“

“I don’t care. Get on the bed.”

You bit your lip, staying still. “Please, please, I said I’m sorry-“

Within a second, Aizawa’s hand was around your throat, his eyes blazing as he shoved you against the wall.  

“This is what’s going to happen.” His voice was raspy, grinding out past his clenched teeth as he invaded your space. “You’re going to do as I say and get on the bed, or else I’ll use my belt on you until you bleed. Once you’re on the bed, you’re going to lay nice and pretty for daddy while I get everything ready. I got a candle to play with, and a couple of toys, and daddy wants to see how well they makes you moan for me.”

You were shivering, fingers scrabbling at the hand squeezing your airway, still allowing you to breath, but just barely.

“You’re gonna get all fucked out and stupid, ’n then I’m gonna bounce you on my cock until I’m satisfied, got it?” The man continued, his nose almost touching yours “Then you’re gonna wear a plug all night, and all tomorrow morning. I get to have you whenever I want, and you won’t complain or else I’ll cum inside, alright?”

Nodding your head, you felt tears rising. You had to do what Aizawa said though, you couldn’t take the risk of having the man cum inside.

“I’ll decide a better way to continue your punishment tomorrow, when I’m not as upset with you. Maybe by then you’ll figure out how to listen to daddy.”

When the man released your throat, you gasped, coughing a bit as you sucked in oxygen. Aizawa was already pushing you towards the bed, eyes trained on your figure.

The new knowledge that this wouldn’t even be the brunt of your punishment was devastating, and you felt your chest tighten up as you struggled not to cry. Crying would only get him to mock you.

All you could do was comply.

“I need you to remember-“ Your step dad catches you by the wrist, tilts your chin with a finger so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine.”

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

[tryingmyves]

Girl All the Bad Guys Want

okay i won’t lie, i remembered this song exists and i could not get the idea of a badboy!iida out of my head

this is a bit self indulgent because i was definitely that girl in hs lmaoooo

anyhow hopefully y’all like it too

PAIRING: Iida x Y/N

cw: badboy!iida

✨ tagging the iida army: @coleluuviida + @saturnity + @peachiileaf ✨

You have a reputation at UA, mostly with the male students. It isn’t something you put effort into maintaining or even something you cultivated on purpose, but you’ve gained some notoriety amongst your peers. At first glance, you don’t seem too different from your female classmates. You certainly don’t feel superior or disparate from them, but you’ve also never quite felt like you belonged with them. You don’t excel at being soft and demure, and you refuse to shrink yourself down in order to make others more comfortable in your presence. You spit in the face of all the things typically expected of a lady. And frankly, you’re more than a bit awkward when you hangout with the girls from your class. They always invite you to their sleepovers and shopping trips, and try to engage you in their conversations, but you’re always worried about saying the wrong thing or accidentally offending them. You’re never really able to add anything of value when they talk about the boys in your class - a recurring subject. Mina knows everything about everyone in class; she loves to gossip. It’s like her horns serve as antennae and pick up on all the juiciest secrets. She is always interrogating the other girls about their crushes but you just never really felt that way about anyone. Honestly, you find the conversations about who likes who to be a bit boring. You typically end up hanging out with Bakugo, Kirishima, and the rest of that squad. Boys are just easier to be around. They don’t get offended at your crass comments and your sometimes gruff disposition looks outright friendly next to Bakugo. 

Your undeniably attractive appearance, unquestionable skill with your quirk, and nonchalant attitude have landed you in the sights of several of your fellow UA students. You are the embodiment of do no harm, but take no shit and something about you is intoxicating. Mina frequently jokes with you about how the entirety of the Bakusquad is duking it out to see who gets to ask you out first. You roll your eyes at her, convinced she’s imagining things. But in reality you’re just clueless. As cliché as it is, you really are the girl all the bad guys want. Too bad you didn’t want them back. 

What you didn’t expect with your tough exterior, competitive nature, and tendency to slack off on class work is that class rep, Tenya Iida, would want you too. God, not even he expected it but he had fallen hard. You frustrate him. You’re just as smart as Yaomomo or Todoroki, but you skate by in class. You don’t outwardly disrespect authority, but you won’t blindly accept orders just because someone says so. He thinks the rap metal music you listen to while training is abrasive and doesn’t understand why all your favorite artists sound like they’re mad at their fathers. He finally gave up on lecturing you on the fact that the fishnets you wear with your uniform are not regulation and he was still wrestling with how he felt about learning you were one of the students caught at a dorm party with alcohol a few weeks ago.  More than anything he hates that you’ve so effortlessly got him pining for you and you haven’t even noticed. Iida loves the rules! Order, structure, regulation - these are the things that Iida covets, so why was he craving the taste of your lips on his?

He is tired of silently lusting after you, and decides he’s going to try actively pursuing you instead. Tenya thinks that you like “bad boys” so as foreign as the concept is to him, he concludes he’s going to have to take on that persona. He starts off simply, making a playlist of songs he’s heard you blaring from your dorm. He eases himself into your music, starting with Linkin Park and Korn, before adding Incubus, Machine Head, and even some ICP to the mix. He’s hesitant at first… the music just sounds so hostile and aggressive to him. But soon he finds himself relishing the fierce energy the songs give him. Tenya gets why you train to this sort of music, his workouts becoming more intense than ever. They end in his chest heaving and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His muscular calves throb vigorously after every run and he feels powerful. It gives him a new found confidence that he strategically channels into his interactions with you. For class today, Aizawa simply instructs you all to pair off and spar. You’re about to ask Sero to partner with you when he approaches. 

“Y/N. You’re with me.” Tenya doesn’t ask, he’s telling you you’re his partner. 

A small sound of surprise leaves your throat at his unexpected forcefulness, but you don’t question it. You just nod, giving a small shrug to Sero before following the class rep to a vacant spot of the training gym. 

You look over your challenger, rolling your head on your shoulders a few times to loosen up. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. You asked for this,” you smirk, bringing your fists up in a defensive stance. 

Before you can even blink, Tenya has closed the 10 foot gap between you, sweeping a long leg beneath yours in a circular motion, knocking you off your feet. You land with a thud on your back and the air in your lungs is forced out with a nmph. 

“Just try to keep up, Y/N.”

Oh, it’s on. Previously you found Iida’s flustered demeanor around you endearing. But this new, assertive, almost cocky disposition is irresistible. His momentum propels him in a circle while he stays anchored in place on his massive left thigh. As he finishes turning through the motion he reaches forward hoping to pin your arms to the ground, but you’re just getting started. You plant the palms of your hands on either side of your face and kick up from the ground with a boost from your quirk. The added flow of air thrusts your legs up and over your head so you are now standing once more. You are sure that the soles of your shoes connect with Iida’s face during your arch through the air. 

“It’s not going to be that easy, specs,” you taunt. Now it’s your turn. 

You launch yourself at Tenya, closing the small gap between the pair of you in an instant. He extends a locked arm to block your approach but you simply dip your head, gliding underneath and down the length of his limb until you are just one step behind him. You pivot on your right foot as you swing your left arm across your body. Your open palm lands just between Tenya’s shoulder blades, your natural momentum accompanied by a gale force wind. The impact knocks him off his feet and sends him toppling forward. Tenya’s speed is unmatched and his large frame is covered in tone muscle, but with the addition of the very air around you, your strikes are ferocious. Your air quirk aids in your mobility, but you’ve used it to master hand to hand combat. You dominate in tight quarters, so you just need to keep Tenya close. He’s already returned to his feet, calculating his next move. The moment ‘s hesitation creating an opening for your right shin to collide with his side. Tenya growls through gritted teeth in response to the blow and the feral vibrations send shivers down your spine. Instead of recoiling from your attack Tenya’s hands clamp onto your shoulders like vices. His brows are furrowed in smug determination, and he practically sneers “Recipro Burst!”

You are propelled backwards rapidly, the gym surrounding you flashing by in a blur, the only thing you're able to see clearly is the dark glint in Tenya’s eyes and the zealous grin on his lips. You try to activate your quirk to counter his momentum, but it’s futile, he is pushing you backwards so quickly you can’t manipulate any of the air whizzing past you. Your back is suddenly pinned to the back wall of the gym, Tenya’s large hands holding your slender wrists to the concrete wall. He places a muscular thigh between your legs so his left knee is pressed to the wall as well - he has you completely immobilized. Both of your chests are heaving, your faces no more than three inches from one another. You don’t know what possesses you but you smash your lips to his, desperate to close the miniscule gap between you.

Tenya’s body stiffens in shock for a moment before he opens his mouth, snaking his tongue past your lips. You wrench your hands from his grip, placing one on the back of his neck and tangling the other in the mess of his navy hair. You didn’t expect the class rep to be such an amazing kisser, but when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth you can’t contain the soft moan that escapes you. Tenya swallows your noises and begins to pull away. Your lips hungrily follow after him, but you’re stopped when one of his calloused hands rests on your neck with just enough force to hold you in place. 

“Such public displays of desire are unbecoming of future heroes, Y/N. Come to my room this evening and we can finish this privately.” And with that, Tenya separates himself from you completely, already settling into a stance that signals he is ready to continue sparring.    

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya: Ladybug learns the truth

“Hold on a minute,” said Alya as she scrutinized the billiard-ball sized object on the bed in front of her. It glowed with several different shades of purple that swirled around each other just slightly faster than was comfortable to look at. “This is a very difficult case.”

Sitting next to her on the bed, Juleka stifled a giggle. “What’s your prognosis, Dr. Alya? Am I going to make it?”

Alya grinned at that. “Your soul looks mostly fine,” she said. Her tail flicked in pleasure; Alya liked it when her ‘cult’ — or, as she had learned to think of them, her friends — were doing well, and Juleka was one of the closest friends she had. Alya’s wings fluttered a little too, creating a slight breeze which blew a few strands of hair into Juleka’s face. Juleka blew them back with a mock-grimace while Alya chuckled and then continued. “No blemishes or spots that I can see. Just a little agitation. And as for what might cause that…” An idea came to her. “Are you planning on asking Rose out later?”

Juleka blushed, her skin reddening to the point where it almost matched Alya’s devilishly-red hue, and the colors in Juleka’s soul began swirling even faster. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’ve been, um, trying to build up the courage for a week or so, but it’s hard.” Her hair drooped over her face, and this time she didn’t try to push it back. “She’s so amazing,” Juleka went on. “And I’m—“

“Also amazing,” Alya cut in. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the best high priestess ever. I know that Rose likes girls who are kind, compassionate, wise, and have a strong moral code—and you’re four for four. Forget that prohibition against angels dating humans; if you ask her out, I’m certain she’ll say yes.”

Juleka smiled a little, but she said, “Everything you say makes sense, but I just have trouble making myself believe it. It’s hard to feel it, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Alya, thinking about one of her other friends. She’d been hanging out at Marinette’s house a couple hours ago, listening to the girl excitedly detail the pastries she was going to make for a charity bake sale, and she’d found herself wondering once again if she could risk revealing her true identity. It would be so easy to let her demonic veil fall and show Marinette her true form, and surely Marinette was kind enough and non-judgmental enough that she’d be able to see past the horns, wings, flickering tail…

But if she wasn’t, if Marinette panicked at learning that Alya was a literal demon from Hell, then the friendship would be over. And Alya couldn’t risk that. Even if Marinette didn’t do anything else (like call Ladybug to banish Alya back to Hell for the next few eons), Alya would be devastated to go through her time on Earth without being able to call on her best friend. And so Alya had once again decided the risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how much she yearned to be able to tell Marinette about her true self.

But even if she couldn’t solve her own problem, she was sure she could help her High Priestess. “Let me try,” said Alya as she cupped Juleka’s soul in her hands. “I think I can calm your soul enough that you can at least ask Rose without panicking halfway through.”

“Thanks,” said Juleka with gratitude in her voice. Alya could tell that she’d been worried about losing her nerve at the worst moment. 

Alya focused on Juleka’s soul, reaching out with her demonic senses until she could feel Juleka’s love-fueled agitation. Then she began to exert her will on it. “Yield to me,” she chanted in quiet Latin. “You who have entrusted me with your soul, yield and let me calm you…”

After a few minutes, the colors in Juleka’s soul slowed down a little, and Juleka took a breath. “I feel better,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Alya as she continued to focus on Juleka’s soul to make sure no traces of agitation could remain and screw things up for her later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Juleka said. “You told me that demons usually use their soul-influencing powers to torment the people whose souls they take, as part of their torture. You know, like making them fanatically loyal and ready to sacrifice everything else for their demon, or driving them into fits of rage, or things like that. But you use your powers to make me and the other people in your cult feel better and be more functional. Do you have different powers than other demons? Could other demons act like you if they wanted?”

“They could; my powers aren’t unique to me,” said Alya as she inspected Juleka’s soul again and noted that it was now in perfect order. “After all, any of the things I’ve done for you guys could be used to hurt someone. Take right now: I just calmed you down, and that’s good, but another demon could calm the soul of a soldier to mellow him out so much he couldn’t be roused to defend his position, resulting in the bad guys overrunning it. Or look at yesterday. Aurore was still feeling a grudge against Mireille for beating her to get that TV job, and she asked me to help her get over it so she didn’t get angry whenever Mireille was on TV. I was able to use my influence over her to make her more forgiving and remove that blemish in her soul, and everything was fine. But another demon could do the same thing on a judge so that judge decided to ‘forgive’ criminals and release them, even knowing they were going to commit more crimes.”

Juleka inclined her head. “I see. But I guess most demons stick to the more obvious types of harmful influence? Making people angry, or greedy, or things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Alya. “The seven deadlies are classics for a reason. They usually work for tempting and damning people, and they don’t require a lot of knowledge—make a human really angry and he’ll usually commit a sin. So they’re useful for demons who aren’t interested in humans, the ones who just want to bag their quota of souls and go back to Hell.” She grimaced. “But those demons are idiots. And the idea of squishing all humans down to being a bunch of angry, greedy jerks is just… it’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “I mean, I was taught otherwise and I even believed that at first when I showed up here, but that crumbled as soon as I met actual people.”

“Specifically, Marinette,” Juleka noted.

Alya blushed a little, but said, “Not just her. So many of the humans I’ve met are amazing, and I’d rather help you be the best humans you can be than turn you all into a bunch of psycho cultists. Yes, there’s humans who are already awful, and I’ve got no problem yanking their souls and doing all the traditional devil stuff to them. You guys heard what I did to that exorcist who tried to banish me, I’m sure. But corrupting someone like you, or Mylene, or Alix… taking away what makes you girls unique so you can become yet another generically-terrible person… that would just be wrong, no matter what my bosses say.” She paused. “If you girls are in my cult, if I’ve got your souls, I want to use that to help you. Not torment you.”

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing demon yourself,” Juleka said. “And we appreciate that.”

Alya beamed at that. “I do try,” she said in a faux-haughty voice. “And as long as my high priestess continues to supply me with regular deliveries of Dupain-Cheng pastries and anime to watch, I’m sure I shall continue.”

Juleka laughed, then stilled herself while Alya picked up her soul and gently pressed it against her chest. After a moment the soul slid in through Juleka’s shirt and body, and Juleka gasped slightly at the now-recognizable (but, somehow, never totally familiar) feeling of suddenly being more ‘herself.’ Once her soul was back inside her, she let out a happy breath and said, “I really do feel calmer now. Thank you so much, Alya. I think I can ask Rose out without panicking.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know who to call.” Alya hopped off the bed and stretched, her wings flaring out and her tail flicking backwards to poke Juleka’s nose. Juleka giggled and playfully flicked at it, and it recoiled for a moment only to dart in and begin tickling her under her chin. Juleka quickly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Alya glanced back and smirked for a moment before laughing herself, and it took a moment before either of the two girls could stop. Then Juleka managed to get up, a silly grin still on her face. “I’ll look over the souls,” she said as she motioned to the large shelf where Alya kept the now-considerable number of souls from her ‘cult.’ “See if anyone has any new blemishes or spots.”

“Just don’t mix them up,” Alya said. “I remember the last time my little sisters got in here and put them all out of order, and then when Mylene needed her soul back for the day so she could go to church, she accidentally got Chloe’s soul and spent the whole service calling the priest ‘ridiculous’ because he kept asking for donations to buy fancy artwork for the church but wouldn’t commit to using any of the funds for actual charitable causes.”

“I won’t,” said Juleka. She went over to the shelf and began looking at the souls. First was Chloe’s, which was yellow and orange and vaguely spiky (though the spikes were gradually shrinking as Alya and the others worked to bring the prickly girl out of her shell). Then came Alix’s, which was pink and almost vibrating with energy, to the point where it actually bounced if dropped or tossed against a wall. (Alya knew this because Alix had idly tried to dribble her soul one day, and it had bounced around the room until it bonked Alya in the head, at which point Alya had instituted a no-dribbling-souls policy). Next was Nino’s, a gentle blue ball in a comfy little doll bed and had tiny headphones playing Nino’s favorite music. And so on, down the line.

While Juleka looked over the souls, Alya gathered up a few dishes and went to put them in the kitchen. Technically, it was the job of her cult to do any chores that she needed done — and it was Juleka’s job to manage the cult and make sure that happened — but Alya didn’t feel comfortable making them do that. Besides, Marlena would get mad, and—demon powers or not—Alya knew better than to disobey her.

Alya entered the kitchen as she idly whistled a tune she’d heard on the radio. Her little sisters were over at Nino’s house, which meant that there should have been nobody in the house who didn’t know that she was a demon, which meant she didn’t need to bother with her veil. As such, she was in her full demonic appearance, with red skin, horns, wings, cloven feet, and a flickering tail as she rinsed off the dishes.

And then, when she turned around, she saw Ladybug staring at her.

For a few moments Alya didn’t believe it. Then her mind almost crashed as she realized what was going on — that one of the superheroes, someone who wielded the power of the kwami and was more than capable of banishing her to Hell for half an eternity, knew her true nature — and scrambled to find a way out of it. But none came to mind. Ladybug was staring at her, Alya Cesaire, in her demonic form. 

A half dozen potential options for escape flitted through Alya’s mind, but none survived a second of scrutiny. Ladybug was fast, strong, fiendishly clever, and she could summon magic objects which always somehow managed to be whatever she needed to catch her quarry. Then Alya thought if there were any possible ways to fight Ladybug and win — if she could throw Hellfire, or Whisper distractions, or draw on her cult — only to dismiss those ideas too. This was Ladybug. She couldn’t win a fight against her. And besides, even if she somehow did, that would leave Paris defenseless against Hawkmoth. It would leave her cult—her friends—without protection from that lunatic.

And so Alya didn’t run or fight. She just lowered her head and whispered, “Please don’t banish me…”

“I wasn’t going to banish you,” said Ladybug.

Alya blinked. “You weren’t?”

Ladybug shook her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have waited for you to notice me,” she pointed out. “I’d have zapped you from a neighboring rooftop.” A slight smile appeared on her face. “You’ve fought alongside me for how long, Alya, and you think I’d give someone a free shot?”

Despite everything, Alya couldn’t help giggling. “No, you don’t usually subscribe to the ‘that akuma needs to have a fair chance of killing me or else it’s not honorable’ school of thought. You’re more about wanting to win.”

“Damn right,” said Ladybug, which made Alya smile a little more. Ladybug returned a smile of her own, though it quickly faded. “So no, I’m not here to banish you. But I do want to talk to you. I need to know what you’re doing in Paris. And if you’ve…” She took a breath. “If you’ve done anything that, as a hero, I would need to correct.”

Alya nodded, but then something occurred to her. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m, uh, who I am,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks,” Ladybug said. “Do you remember how Mayor Bourgeois signed that law to bulldoze that forest preserve and put up a shopping mall?”

“Yeah,” Alya said. 

“I knew that a local girl named Mylene cared a lot about saving the park, and I was worried that she might get akumatized once Bourgeois crushed her hopes,” said Ladybug. “I went to her and found her just in time to see one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies touch that pin in her hair. Before she actually got akumatized, though, I could see her trying to fight it off. And I could… sense, I guess… something helping her. Something was trying to keep her calm and urge her to fight off Hawkmoth’s promises.

“Whatever was helping her, it was able to keep her from giving in for long enough that I was able to get to her, smash the pin, and purify the akuma.” Ladybug shrugged. “She thanked me and said she felt better, but I could tell she was still a little tense, and that whatever was helping her was still influencing her. So I tried to follow that magic, and it led me to your apartment, where I looked in through the window to see… well, to see you, looking like that, holding a lilttle rainbow-colored ball and chanting something at it.”

Alya frowned as she thought back. “Wait a minute,” she said after a moment. “Two weeks ago, right? I remember. I was home when I saw her soul begin flashing red and vibrating, like something was attacking it. So I tried to calm it down.” Then, despite everything, a tiny smile spread across her face. “You’re saying I stopped her from being akumatized?” she said. “I didn’t even realize that was happening, but… I’m glad I was able to help.”

Ladybug nodded. “You did. But Alya, I need to know why. I talked to my kwami afterwards and she said this isn’t normal for demons; they don’t usually stop destruction in the human world unless there’s some ulterior motive. But you did stop her. So: why?”

Alya hesitated. “I mean, Mylene’s one of mine, you know? She’s in my cult and she’s my friend. I have to look out for her. I don’t usually like messing with my cult’s souls without their permission, but if one of them’s about to self-destruct, I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“Why not?” pressed Ladybug. “Isn’t that why demons come to Earth? To lead humans astray, get them to sin, and ultimately take their souls to Hell?”

Alya’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Alya,” Ladybug repeated. “This is important. If there’s some weird demonic plot going on, then as the protector of Paris, I need to be aware of it so I can derail it.”

“I know, but… I don’t want you to think less of me,” said Alya softly. “You’re an amazing hero and a good friend.”

Ladybug smiled a little at that, then went to Alya’s side. “I don’t want to think less of you either,” she said. “And I promise you, whatever I think, it’s not going to be influenced by your species. So just be honest with me, Alya. Tell me everything.”

Alya paused, again torn. But she finally said, “Okay. I will.”

The two girls sat at the kitchen table and then Alya said, “When I first came to Earth, it was exactly like you said. My job was to collect souls and that’s all I cared about. I figured I’d just find people, tempt them, grab their souls, and move on. That’s what most demons do.”

“So what changed?” Ladybug asked.

Alya blushed a little. “You might think this is stupid, but I met someone. This girl in my class. Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Ladybug froze, though Alya didn’t understand why. She was pretty sure Ladybug knew Marinette; after all, Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous once, which presumably meant Ladybug had given it to her. Then Ladybug shook her head. “What about Marinette?” she asked.

“She was so kind to me,” Alya said. “I was new to the human world, I didn’t have any friends or connections, but as soon as I got to school—that was my cover, I was a local student—she befriended me and helped me fit in. And… look, I know humans are nice to each other a lot, but in Hell, that never happens. Everyone’s always out for themselves. The only reason someone down there would help me is so I would owe them a debt or a favor. But Marinette was just so compassionate, so kind, and she genuinely didn’t care about being paid back.” Alya smiled a little dreamily. “She was amazing. And she made me want to… to be different.”

“Different how?” Ladybug asked, still seeming slightly stunned.

Alya shrugged. “She’s the kind of person who can… inspire people to live up to her example, I guess. At least, she inspired me that way. I loved her kindness, the way she so obviously cared for me and for others without worrying about herself, and I found that I wanted to be like that too. I wanted to keep feeling the way I felt when Marinette was kind to me, or when I was kind to her. And also, the idea of doing the standard demon thing, of using twisted magic to warp some innocent person into committing a heinous sin so I could seize their soul… it didn’t feel right anymore. It felt awful. Cruel. I couldn’t bear to be like that, not after having experienced real human kindness.” 

“So m—Marinette’s kindness helped convince a demon to stop tempting people?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah,” said Alya with a little chuckle. “Seriously, if you haven’t met her, you should. I think you two would be amazing friends.” Then Alya paused. “But, um, it wasn’t just Marinette. I don’t want to sound like a stalker or something. I made other human friends too and they also helped me be better.”

Ladybug seemed to shake herself, as if breaking out of a stupor. “So you don’t take souls for your bosses?” she asked.

“I do,” Alya admitted. “But only people who have already committed serious sins. Criminals and the like, especially the ones the police haven’t caught yet. I get their souls so I can fulfill my quota and stay up here on Earth, and I don’t mess with them too much. Mostly I just influence them so they won’t work with Hawkmoth by making them too despondent to respond to his summons, or too paranoid to trust his promises, or other things like that.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, that’s you?” she asked. “So that’s why Hawkmoth never worked with felons and why he’s just picking random people who happen to get mad one day! I would have figured they’d be the most likely to join him! That makes a lot more sense than my prior theory.”

“What was your prior theory?” Alya asked.

“That Hawkmoth is an idiot,” Ladybug said.

Alya couldn’t help giggling at that. “Well, he did summon Mr. Pigeon dozens of times, so that wasn’t a bad theory,” she joked. “The man is not as smart as he thinks.”

“Nope,” Ladybug agreed. “Seriously, I mean, the guy has total control over the powers he gives people, and yet half of them are useless. What was Reflektra even supposed to do? Make us look ridiculous while we kicked his butt? How does that help him?”

Both girls laughed before Ladybug brought the conversation back around. “If you’re really just targeting people who have already committed serious crimes—and making sure they don’t commit more—then that’s one thing,” she said. “But I do know you’re collecting the souls of others as well, like Mylene. Why is that?”

“To make sure other demons don’t get them,” Alya said. “I’m not the only one here. And I can’t tell you who the other demons are—literally, I’m under a demonic geas that will set me on fire if I say their names to someone who doesn't already know them—but I can tell you they’re a lot worse than me. The other demons have no problem at all with warping innocent people into Hellbound monsters. But if I get the souls of my friends first, the other demons can’t lay their claws on them.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug gave Alya a long look. “I imagine you had to trick these friends into losing their souls at first.”

“Yes,” Alya admitted. “Some made deals—Mylene wanted me to resurrect her pet ferret, for instance--but others, like Alix, lost bets or fell into a minor temptation I set up. I didn’t love doing that, but if I hadn’t, they’d be in the clutches of a far worse demon.” She shuddered at the thought of what Lila would have done. 

“Now that they know the truth,” Ladybug went on, “If these friends wanted their souls back so they could leave your cult, would you let them?”

Alya hesitated. “It hasn’t come up,” she admitted. “They aren’t hurt by losing their souls, except that they can’t go into churches or do a couple other ‘holy’ things. And I don’t use my power over their souls to make them worse. I try to help them when they ask for help, instead.”

“Even so,” Ladybug went on. “If Mylene went to you tomorrow and said she wants out, what would you do?”

Alya was tempted to just lie and say that of course she’d return Mylene’s soul, but she had a feeling Ladybug would be able to sense that. So instead she tried to give the question as much thought as she could to come up with her honest response. “I’d be worried about her, and I’d try to convince her otherwise,” she said. “But if Mylene was adamant, I’d give her soul back. Some demons treat their cults like slaves or prisoners, but I can’t do that.”

“Because Marinette would disapprove?” Ladybug asked.

“Not just that,” Alya said. “Maybe for the first few days after I met her, but I’ve moved past that. My ‘cult’ are my friends and I wouldn’t keep them against their will.” She let out a breath. “But again, it hasn’t come up. Honestly, I think they like knowing that if something goes really wrong and they become upset or angry, there’s someone looking out for them who can calm or polish their souls. Especially Chloe. Her mother is… not great, and Chloe has panic attacks when she’s around. She was really happy when I said I could monitor her soul and try to soothe it when her mother came to visit.”

Ladybug carefully considered that. “You wouldn’t mind if I didn’t just take your word for it, right?” she asked. 

“I can give you a list of the people in the cult,” Alya said. “You can ask them for yourself. Plus my high priestess Juleka; I don’t keep her soul on my shelf, since she’s got both warlock and paladin powers to defend it with—long story—but she'd be happy to talk to you about what I'm like.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug said.

The two were silent for a moment, and then Alya asked, “So… what now?”

“Well, now I need to talk to your cultists,” Ladybug said. “But assuming they verify what you said… I don’t see anything here that I’d need to banish you for. As far as I can tell, you really are trying to be a good a friend, and you’re doing a good job of it too. As long as you don’t take any innocent souls, and you don’t do anything abusive to your friends in your 'cult,' I don’t need to get involved.”

Alya felt a wave of relief rush through her. “Thank the Devil,” she breathed. “I’m glad.”

Ladybug smiled. “Out of curiosity, is being banished that bad?” she asked. “My kwami said it’s not permanent and you could come back once the spell wore off.”

“That could take centuries,” Alya said. “All the humans I knew would be dead by then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, especially Marinette.”

“Maybe you could see her after she dies,” Ladybug noted. “Her soul has to go somewhere, right?”

“It won’t go to where I’m from,” said Alya at once. “Seriously, I peaked at her soul once when I was sleeping over at her house and…” She smiled wistfully. “It was so incredibly pure… the purest I’d seen. No, she’s Heaven-bound for sure, and I won’t be able to see her once she dies because I’m not allowed up there. So I just… I want to make as much of my time on Earth with her, and all my other friends, as I can.”

Once again, Ladybug didn’t seem to know how to respond for some reason. Alya, though, thought of something else she really needed to say. “Speaking of Marinette,” she said. “I… look, I loved having the chance to help you fight Hawkmoth as Rena Rouge. I’d give anything to be able to do that again. But if you can’t trust me because of… of this…” She gestured at her horns and tail. “If you need a replacement, I’d suggest you look at her. The girl’s heart is so pure I can’t imagine Hawkmoth ever corrupting her, and not only is she strong, but she’s incredibly clever. Trust me, she’d be a great hero.”

Ladybug’s cheeks colored slightly. “Thank—I mean, I’m sure she’d thank you if she’d heard that,” she said. “But like I said, unless I learn that something you told me wasn’t true, I don’t see any reason to take your powers away from you. I’m happy to have your help in the battle against Hawkmoth. In more ways than one, apparently.” She smiled. “In fact, once you give me the list of the people whose souls you have, if I learn that one of them is getting upset or is likely to get mad about something, I hope it’s okay if I text you and ask you to check on their souls.”

“Of course,” said Alya at once. “Anytime you need.”

Ladybug nodded. “You’re a good friend, Alya,” she said. Then she turned on her heel before pausing. “Ah, one more question. You said you took your friend’s souls to protect them. Why not Marinette’s? You don’t have her soul, right?”

“No, I don’t,” said Alya. “I thought about it, because I know there’s other demons who would love nothing more than to corrupt someone as pure as her. But I…” She hesitated. “If I took her soul, she’d know what I really am. And I can’t bear the thought of her rejecting my friendship over that. She’s… she means a lot to me.”

“I see,” said Ladybug. “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but I’d encourage you to tell her. I know her pretty well, and trust me: she might surprise you.”

Alya smiled, though inwardly she wasn’t sure if even Marinette could be that tolerant. Still, though, Ladybug’s word had a lot of weight. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last. “And I’ll also keep a close eye on Marinette. I might not have her soul, but if I see demons moving to attack her I’ll do everything I can to hold them off. And I’ve got my paladin/warlock high priestess to help, plus this angel I know. We should be able to keep her safe.”

“An angel?” Ladybug repeated. 

Alya grinned. “Yeah. I know demons and angels aren’t supposed to get along, but this one’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose Marinette influenced her too?” Ladybug said in a teasing voice.

“Marinette seems to influence everyone for the better,” Alya said. “Marinette will never know it, but yes, I think the angel is happy to know her too.”

“Why won’t Marinette know it?” Ladybug asked. “Are angels not allowed to reveal themselves?”

“It’s more that they only do so if they’re smiting an evildoer, or if they need to save a human from temptation,” Alya said. But Marinette’s so pure that she’s not really in any danger of that, so I don’t think she’ll be getting any angelic intervention unless she spontaneously gets tempted to rob a bank or something.” She giggled. “Which really isn’t like her.”

Ladybug laughed too, though she seemed slightly disappointed for some reason. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Alya. Thanks again for all that you do.”

Alya waved as Ladybug launched herself back out the window. Then, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she went back to her room to tell Juleka everything.

——

The next day, Alya found herself invited to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Hey, girl!” said Alya as she walked inside. “What’s up?”

“Alya!” Marinette said. She ran over and exchanged hugs with her best friend. “I just came up with some new pastries and I wanted you to be the first to try them!”

“Anytime!” said Alya. “What’cha got?”

Marinette took a few pastries off the shelf. “This one here is a Mexican chocolate cake,” she said. “I remember you saying you liked the spicier pastries, so I made it with a little cayenne pepper. Please, try it!”

Alya bit into the cake and grinned as the fiery sweet flavor danced over her tongue. “This is really good,” she said. “Seriously. And—“

“Oh, there’s also this other one,” said Marinette suddenly. She took down a donut. “I wanted to get back to my roots a little,” she said. “But I also wanted to make something you’d like. So this is a cinnamon donut with green and red chilis, the sort you find in Hunan cuisine.” She handed it over. “What do you think?”

Alya tried the donut and gasped, because it was possibly the best thing she’d ever tasted. The sweetness matched the peppers perfectly. “This is amazing,” she said. “Damn, girl, you know how to bake. Although, I thought you said you guys weren’t working too hard on developing spicy pastries because your parents didn’t think they’d sell well?”

“I’m going to prove Maman wrong about that,” said Marinette firmly. “Because people who enjoy spicier deserts should be able to get treats they love, just like anyone else. I’ll make spicy treats that are so good they sell just as well as everything else we’ve got.” 

Alya blushed. Marinette really was one of the kindest people around, she thought.

“Besides,” Marinette went on, “even if these didn’t sell, it’d still be worth making some for you. After all, you’re my best friend.” She moved closer to Alya. “You’re an amazing person and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “I don’t think anything could drive us apart.” She gave Alya a quick hug. “Maybe I don’t tell you that enough, but it’s true.”

“Um.” Alya wondered if Ladybug had maybe hinted to Marinette about some of the conversation they had. “Right back at’cha,” she said. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

Marinette smiled.  

Alya hesitated, on the verge of asking Marinette to go somewhere private so she could remove her demon veil… but she still didn’t feel quite confident enough. Someday, she thought. But not just then. “If I”m so great,” she said, “maybe you could let me have a few more of these?”

“Have the whole tray!” Marinette chirped. “But one thing in response: the concentration of chilis is slightly different in each one, so I need you to rank them. That way I know which one is the best one!”

“You’ve got it!” Alya grinned and reached for another donut. She was truly blessed, she thought, to have a friend like Marinette.

——

Later that evening, Marinette was in her room with Tikki, trying to relax after a long day of helping her parents in the bakery.

“I’m just saying, Tikki,” Marinette said quietly, though her voice was light and she was clearly joking. Well, mostly joking. “It would just be one bank. I might get to see an angel, and then I could give the money right back!!”

“No, Marinette,” said Tikki in a stern voice.

“It could be a bank owned by bad people!” Marinette went on. “It—“

“No, Marinette,” Tikki repeated.

Marinette smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. But I hope I get to meet that angel anyways.” She blushed. “I can’t believe that I convinced a demon to be good.”

“You’re a very special person, Marinette,” said Tikki. 

Marinette grinned before settling back on her bed. The idea of having helped to make Alya the amazing, compassionate warrior for good that she was… well, it was stunning. It made her feel really good. 

Of course, as Alya had explained, there might be such a thing as being too good. “What if it wasn’t a bank, but it was just some jerk like XY?” Marinette asked. 

“Marinette!” Tikki complained before tossing a pillow at her. “No sinning just to meet an angel!”

Marinette giggled. “I know,” she said. “Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Across the neighborhood, Alya was also dreaming. “Someday,” she promised herself as she thought of telling Marinette the truth. “I promise.”

“Hey, Alya,” called Juleka from across the room. “We’re about to start the show. You want in?”

“Sure!” Alya said. She scurried to the couch and slid down between Juleka and Mylene. And then she settled back to watch the show with some of her best friends in the world.

-------

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

I loved that thank you!

Just imagining this is how the akuma charms are made, via Alya being a smart cookie and smart soul user. That was just so delightful

[mctherofdragons]

Born to Die | F.W.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: ANGST/SMUT 18+ only, major character death, toxic relationship dynamic, tattoos, gang activity, motorcycles, domination/submission, daddy kink, possessiveness, praise kink, choking, smoking, drug mention, alludes to criminal activity, blood/wounds/violence, hurt/comfort, police, arrest, gun violence, su*cide by cop. 

Based on: Sons of Anarchy; Lana Del Rey’s Ride and Born to Die music videos 

AN: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! I’m not going to argue about this being ~toxic because I know it is. It’s heavily influenced by Jax and Tara’s dynamic in Sons of Anarchy. It’s also a work of complete fiction and honestly, who doesn’t love a bad boy? I know I do. Thank you to Mya (@wandsandwheezes) and Lanie (@gcdric) for encouraging me to write this! Note about biker subculture: “old lady” is a term of endearment for a wife/girlfriend. If a biker refers to a girl as his “old lady”, this is actually a warning sign to other men to back off. Reader would want Fred to refer to her as such. ​

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

”He’s not good for you,” your mother’s voice echoed as you tossed everything you owned in a duffle bag. “He’s a criminal, y/n.” 

”I don’t care. I love him.” 

With that, you had left everything behind to be with Fred Weasley. He was a boy from the wrong side of town who you had met while tending bar to make ends meet. You had always been a good girl. Sure, your family had no money, but you were a hard worker. In fact, you had began studying to become a nurse - paid for with grants and academic scholarships. All of your dreams faded away when Fred walked into your life. 

Everything about Fred Weasley was stunning. He stood over six feet, broad shoulders clad in leather and tattoos, with a dangerous light behind his eyes. He had scars tattering his soft, pale skin. On his face, freckles danced beneath his eyes light a night sky, and you were enamored with discovering the constellations. He was tough, but soft with you. He wore his long hair gelled back,  adding to his bad boy persona. Fred was the most beautiful man you had ever seen - both inside and out. 

 He had come in one night close to closing, sitting down and whistling at you.  His brown eyes twinkled at you as he ordered a straight whiskey, flirting with you as he drank. “You’re far too pretty to be workin’ here all alone. Girls like you can fall prey easily.”

You had heard about men like him. They would roll up together occasionally, the backs of their leather jackets or vests donning the same symbolic patch. Outlaw motorcycle clubs with all of their criminal enterprising, violence, and danger had been something you would normally have avoided at all costs. However, Fred nearly radiated heat as he sat before you, pushing a tattoo and ring covered hand through his hair. He puffed on his second cigarette of the night, gazing at you in a way that made you want to abandon your good girl ambitions.

“You wanna go for a ride, sweet thing?”

After your shift had ended, you climbed on the back of Fred’s Harley, holding on tight to his waist as he sped down the road. That night he could have taken you anywhere. Even Hell would have been a welcome destination when Fred finally parked outside of a garage, pulling you inside. You were leaned against a different motorcycle with his hands exploring every inch of you. His hand slowly slipped around your throat, the cold of his rings pressing gently into your supple skin. At that moment, you had fallen entranced under Fred Weasley’s spell, unable to ever think about the life you knew before. 

Fred Weasley had bewitched you. Even with the danger that lurked behind every moment with you, the addiction to him had pulled you beneath the waves. It was a dark, deep ocean but you were content to continue being pulled deeper and deeper into the depth. You were his girl. That’s all you ever wanted to be - for eternity. 

+++++++++++++++++

Eventually, you had moved into Fred’s house. It was, like everything else about the man’s persona, not the safest place to be. At night, you’d hear gunshots rattling down the street. More than once, you laid awake, watching Fred in the moonlight, holding his own gun in his hand. You knew better than to ask questions about how the gang made its money. Fred often managed to shut you up with diamonds or kisses, pushing any questions you had to the back of your mind. 

One night, you had been laying on Fred’s chest. You were tracing the lion tattoo on the right side of his chest, your fingers dancing over the cat’s dark mane. “I’m scared for you, Freddie.” 

You gasped slightly as he pulled your hair behind your shoulder, pressing the pad of his pointer finger behind your ear. There you had gotten a small, but meaningful tattoo. The letter ‘F’ was sunk into your skin, marking you permanently as his. Fred was possessive over you. He kept you safe from the other members with a proprietary aura. Fred moved to attach a soft kiss to the tattoo, his warm breath tickling against your earlobe. 

“You know I’ll keep you safe, right, babygirl?” 

“Of course.” 

He slid his hand down your body, strong and calloused hands brushing against the skin of your side. He trailed a finger along the lace of your panties, slowly and painfully running the tip of his pointer finger along your slit. He moved the black material to the side, coasting two of his long fingers into you. He rubbed soft circles on your hood, causing you to gasp slightly. 

“Do you belong to me? Who do you belong to? If someone asks, who do you belong to?” 

He would occasionally beg for confirmation from you. “Fred Weasley,” you breathed, back arching as he attached his open mouth to your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “Fred Weasley.” 

He fingered you fast, loving the way your wetness coated his fingers. He pulled them out, shoving them into your mouth with a small grin. You gazed into his eyes as you licked them clean, batting your long, mascara coated eyelashes at him. 

“That’s my bitch.” 

You melted at his words, spreading your legs wider and allowing him to climb on top of you. You dug your fingernails into his back as he moved rhythmically inside of you, making tiny scratches along with the tattoos on his shoulders. His rings pressed hard into your skin as he propped your legs up, keeping his eyes burning into yours. 

+++++++++++++++++

You were waiting up one night for Fred, sitting in nothing but his leather vest, donned with the club’s patch on the back. The patch itself had to be earned, and membership in the club was lifelong. The only way out of the club itself was death, and Fred knew that very well. He had another patch on the front breast of his vest - Man of Mayhem - meaning he had undertaken several high-risk tasks for the crew. 

He didn’t tell you much about these tasks, and you didn’t ask questions as you would stand at the sink, scrubbing blood from his shirts. He was gone late again tonight and you had missed him, pulling the vest on since he had worn his jacket instead. You heard the door ratted open. Fred stood before you, cigarette hanging from his ruddy, pink lips. He took a long drag, blowing the smoke up into the air. 

“You like?” You asked, standing up. Your lips curled into a mischievous grin and you ran off toward the bedroom, but he caught you by your arm. He had you pinned against the wall. He smelled like alcohol, cigarettes, and motorcycle exhaust. It was then that you noticed Fred’s lip was busted open, a bit of blood dried over the cut on the top. It was swollen and bruised. His cheek, on the other hand, also had a large blue and yellow bruise forming beneath his eye socket. 

“Take it off.” 

You plucked the smoke from his mouth, pulling it between your own lips for a drag. “Why?” 

He grabbed the cigarette back and stomped it out under his boot. He latched his hands onto the leather of the vest and pulled it off of you, tossing it onto a nearby table. “No one fucking wears that patch besides members. Do you fucking understand that?” 

You had recoiled a bit, leaning away from him. He caught your face gently in his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You sighed, suddenly melting back into his touch. Fred was holding your face tightly as he kissed you. You could feel the rugged cut on his lip against your own. You wished somewhere deep down the kiss itself was magic - able to heal him. His tongue danced along your lower lip before you granted him entry. You had almost forgotten you were completely naked while he was clothed, once again causing you to find your rightful place as his plaything. 

“I’m trying to protect you.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

He stood back for a second, taking in the sight of you naked before him. You giggled loudly as he hoisted you up, tossing you over his shoulder. He brought a hand up to smack your bare ass, a loud crack breaking the silence of the house. When he finally got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the mattress and you bounced. 

You propped your head upon your hand as he stripped, muscles flexing as he pulled his tee-shirt off. He laid down on the bed and you ran your hands along his bare chest. You were kissing fast and furiously, tongues battling for dominance. He had slid his hand between your legs, rubbing his fingers gently against your sensitive flower. He spat into his hand, bringing it back down to moisten you even more. Fred had an artistic way of touching you as if each point of pressure on your body was something he craved to explore. You were panting loudly, tiny feminine gasps rolling off your tongue. 

“You wanna ride me, princess?” You nodded, moving to place your knees on either side of his hips. Placing your hand around Fred’s shaft, you guided his length into you. You lowered yourself slowly onto him and tossed your head toward the ceiling, feeling your hair fall against the bare skin of your back. The way he filled you up was sinful yet otherworldly. Gently, you gyrated your hips in circles, getting comfortable. Fred placed his hands on your hips, urging you to begin bouncing. It was moments like this that had made Fred claim you as his ‘old lady’ - biker slang for a girl that belonged to him and only him. It was a predatorial move, urging the other men in the MC to back off, lest they deal with his wrath. It made you feel chosen, valued, and deeply cherished. 

Fred locked his eyes onto yours as you ran your hands up and down his chest. He caught your lips for a kiss, pushing his hands up into the tangles of your hair. As you panted, he spoke softly into your shoulder. “I need...I need your help with something. Are you gonna b-be my good girl?”

You continued to bounce on him, staring deeply into his eyes. “Anything for you, daddy.” 

He helped you off of him, moving swiftly to pin you beneath him. He slammed into you again, pinning your hands above your head. You moaned, letting him attach his lips around your nipple. He bit softly before sucking. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders, moving quicker and quicker. 

“Would you do anything for me, baby? Would you?” “Yes! Yes, daddy,” you moaned. Fred could feel your walls tightening around him, which signaled him to wrap his hand around your throat. The feeling of his rings on your skin and the loss of control sent you into your ecstasy, crying his name out loudly. He came next, pulling out to cum on your stomach. You watched, stars in your eyes, as he reached next to the bed to grab his tee shirt and wipe you up. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You held the gun in your hand still, shaking as you watched the person in front of you fall to the floor. “C’mon,” Fred said, wrapping his hand around your wrist. You ran along with him, shaking from your fingers to toes. 

“Is-Is...did I kill her?” 

Fred handed you a small, white pill and you took it without question. “It’ll calm you down. C’mon,” he said, starting up his bike. You crawled onto the back, wrapping your arms around his waist. Fred’s shirt was still soaked in blood. You had been his ruse to get into the house, and then he had urged you to shoot. 

He had shot too, leaving the living room full of the corpses of a rival club. As Fred sped, coasting nearly one hundred miles per hour, you saw flashes of red and blue light up in the rearview. Fred was content to rev his engine, but another cop car pulled out in front, causing his wheels to come to a screeching stop. 

Four sets of officers stood behind their doors, crouching, guns drawn. “Get off,” Fred whispered and you listened, hands up in surrender. A male cop immediately grabbed you, locking the handcuffs around your wrist. You were bent over the hood of the cop car, waiting for Fred to make his move. 

“Weasley, put your hands up and drop your weapon.” 

Fred slowly got off of his bike, hands up. He looked you dead in the eyes, saying words you had never heard him speak out loud before. “Remember, I’ve always loved you, baby. I’m not letting them take me.” 

With that, he moved his hand down to his waistband, going for his gun. Before he could get it, a shower of bullets rang out from all angles, bursting through the leather of his jacket and into his torso and head. You screamed, fighting against your cuffs as two male officers held you back. Fred Weasley had gone out the same way he had always wanted - in a blaze of glory. 

“Freddie!” You screamed echoed in the quiet desert night, staring at the blood pooling into the California sand. “Freddie!” 

Fred’s eyes were still open, blood leaking from his mouth. The light behind them was gone, his pupils only illuminated by swirls of red and blue from the sirens. You continued to scream as you were pushed, head down, into the back of a police car. 

The police officer began to read your rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” 

“Fuck you,” you cussed, as one final send off to the man you loved. 

[wrestling0neshots]

I Believe You. - Kane

You've known for two weeks about the planned attack on Kane.. the only problem is that you've felt too bad about him not believing your feelings to tell him. Will you be able to save him in time? Or will it be too late?

Requested by the_unkn0wn_writer Originally posted on Archive Of Our Own --------------------------- Guilt. That's what you feel. You should have told him. He deserved to know.

Unfortunately contact with him is limited, you were nervous, too afraid of your own feelings to tell him. And now he's on his was to the ring, unaware of the plans of his enemies. It wasn't often you overheard people's plans, often actively avoiding eavesdropping. In this case you had done it on purpose.

"When you get back I want a full on attack on Kane. He needs to be dealt with for giving you a concussion." You had been shocked hearing it, it was such a rash thing to do over something so small.

In this business a concussion wasn't out of the ordinary, it only took a slight mis-positioning or wrong angle to cause a hit to the head. So to go after someone for just that was frankly rude.

Out of fear you hadn't said anything to them, not when it happened, not last week, and not this week. This had been your last chance to stop them.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, angry with yourself for not having the courage to tell Kane. But how could you? You had been outside his locker room on multiple occasions, ready to knock on the door and notify him of the danger. Yet every time your hand stopped just short of the door, before you could knock.

You know your reasons, being as drawn to someone as you are to Kane really gets the heart beating and sends the nerves through the roof. Well, it doesn't help that last time you spoke to him he denied your feelings. Certainly doesn't make for a good situation.

And so every single time you had stopped. Walked away. Felt worse and worse about it every time.

Now you're here, listening to his theme song. Knowing his demise is coming. Knowing he is going to be attacked. You could have stopped it, you could have done something. You still can.

With a sudden burst of courage you leave the bathroom, breaking into a jog. You're determined to make it in time. You can almost hear a clock ticking in your head, reminding you of every second that passes by. Kane's theme has stopped, an eerie silence having fallen.

It's clear that whomever Kane was supposed to face tonight will not be going to the ring. You hope you're not too late to stop what is about to happen.

Sure enough the second theme starts up. You knew they would be going down next. You're almost there, almost at the gorilla. You can do it, you can still stop them.

You pause as you round the room that sends you to the stage, filled with nerves. Not just nerves for Kane but nerves because you really didn't think out your plan.

The array of steel chairs set neatly to the side is enough of a plan for you. You pick up the closest one and fold it, not waiting another second to run out onto the stage.

The music is still loud, your eyes lock onto your targets. They're still on their way to the ring, slowly stalking toward Kane if they have all the time in the world.

Luckily they're also unaware of your presence. Something you keep up by using the sound of the crowd to your advantage, but also ensuring you're quiet on your feet. As they reach the bottom of the ramp they stop, allowing you to properly catch up. "This is it Kane, this is our revenge for what you did."

Without hesitation you swing the chair, hitting the speaker in the back of the head. A blow that sends him to the ground.

Unfortunately now his two teammates know you're here. They know you're a threat. There's one to your left and one to your right. Perhaps hitting the guy in the center first wasn't the best idea.

You don't have time to think, simply swinging again and hoping for the best. Your second swing hits, although it's not as successful as the first, only causing the second guy to stumble back.

You turn to hit the third with the chair but he's already thought ahead, snatching the steel object from your hand. You duck as he swings the chair at you, spinning while you're low and sweeping his legs from under him.

It's an effective move, although as you stand straight again you realise than both of his friends are ready for you. You're overwhelmed quickly, trying your best to fight them off. Unfortunately it doesn't last long, having your arms quickly locked in place

The guy in front of you grins, helping his other friend off of the ground while you struggle in the hold. "A valiant effort I must say, it's a shame you waste it on Kane and he's not even come to help you."

"Shut your mouth." You spit, receiving a slap to the face in return. He chuckles, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him again. "Since you care so much you can watch us do what we came down here to do, beat the shit out of Kane. If you keep quiet we'll maybe let you off lightly after, got it?" He moves your head up and down for you, his grin filling you with an anger you never thought possible. And you're unable to do anything about it.

He lets go, turning around and walking right into Kane's fist. The guy with the chair swings, smacking Kane's arm. Kane moves to attack him now, snatching the chair and smacking him in the head with it, hard. Hard enough it causes the guy holding you to flinch.

You see blood slowly begin to pour from a newly opened wound on the man's head, although you don't have time to process it, the other one on the ground at your feet after being chokeslammed.

Kane now turns his attention in your direction, or rather behind you. The man holding you doesn't loosen up his grip, clearly intending on using you as a meat shield for as long as he can.

With Kane staring daggers at him you seize the opportunity to help yourself, stomping hard on his foot. He lets out a quiet yelp, letting go of your wrists and freeing you. You turn to deal with him further but he's already at the top of the ramp, showing no signs of stopping.

Kane's hand on your arm fills you with nerves once again. He spins you slowly to face him. You don't avoid his eyes, no point in showing your nerves now. He shows no emotion, simply staring down at you.

Seconds pass with nothing, so you look down. His lack of any communication makes you feel awful. You wish he would do something, say something. Anything.

You hiss as he gently lifts your head to look up at him again, his hand on your still sore cheek. He goes to recoil but you put your hand on his, keeping it there.

It stings, but his touch makes up for it. His thumb moves slowly across what you can only imagine is a sore looking patch of skin. You don't pull away. You don't want this moment to end.

When it does you sigh softly, accepting that that is probably all you will get from Kane. He denied your confession before, you're sure he's doing the same now.

You step away, ready to leave. You can't handle the disappointment.. not in front of all these people.

There was a small part of you that hoped that if he saw what you were willing to do for him he would see things for how they are, he would see your feelings as true.. Maybe that's not possible.

You don't look back, you don't want to. Your heart feels heavy. You tried.

"Y/n" you don't stop. You can't stop. Whatever it is you don't want it.

"Y/n." He calls again, nearer this time. "Y/n!" "What, Kane?" You turn to him at last, seeing the mix of emotions swimming in his mismatched eyes.

"I believe you."

[echo-of-sounds]

hates/scared of loud noises

How Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, and Gang Orca would help their s/o who is scared of and jumps at loud/sudden noises. These are shorter than my usual headcanons. I just wanted to write these because there have been so many thunderstorms lately and five houses around me were using fireworks all damn weekend. It’s exhausting getting startled that badly every thirty minutes. 

Aizawa Shouta

He’s a quiet guy. His footsteps are near silent. He doesn’t make much noise when working and walking around the apartment. And he has a rather flat affect. In battle, he may yell. To get his student’s attention, his voice might raise oh-so-slightly. In disagreements or arguments, his voice firms up and deepens but it very rarely goes beyond that. It’s pretty nice to live with, except when you yelp because someone’s suddenly talking right behind you. He’ll start to make a little more noise so you don’t get scared.

He understands being afraid of yelling and other such noises but he doesn’t really understand the fear of thunder and fireworks. It’s only noise. It can’t hurt you. Nevertheless, he is a good boyfriend who will comfort you through the storms.

He’s actually glad you don’t like fireworks because it gives him another reason to stay home (though he doesn’t like how scared you get). During thunderstorms and firework shows he’ll lay in bed and hold you tight to his chest. Any loud booms that make you tense up, he’ll stroke your back and whisper that it can’t hurt you and you’re safe.

If there’s one person at the end of the hallway who always slams their door and startles you, he’d encourage you to talk to them. He wants you to stand up for yourself and never wants you to sit back and just accept things that make you uncomfortable. It’s completely possible that they would change their behavior or may not even know they’re doing it. If you truly can’t do it for whatever reason, he will. Besides, he would also like people to not constantly slam things. It’s just annoying.

Yagi Toshinori

He isn’t particularly loud or quiet in the home. After everything he’s gone through, he’s come to be a gentle man and his movements and sounds reflect that. He’ll change simple behaviors to help you. When you’re engrossed in something, he’ll make some noise so you aren’t startled by him. He keeps the TV volume low so no explosions or yelling scares you. If he’s going to drop something heavy, he warns you in advance.

The accommodations are simple but that doesn’t stop feelings of being needy or high-maintenance from rising. You should be able to handle a door closing or a dog barking without your heart skipping. He’ll notice your worry very quickly. Once you talk about it, he’ll assure you everything he does is so easy he barely notices that he does it anymore. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

At the end of an anxiety-ridden day, hearing a cell phone ring can be shocking enough that you cry. He’s immediately beside you, helping you through any grounding or self-soothing techniques. He knows them well since he’s found them useful for his own anxieties.

Toshi enjoys festivals and fireworks. He likes the community, the colors, the food, and the fun. When he learns you don’t like them, he will be disappointed that he can’t experience all of that with you. If you ever want to go and leave before the fireworks start, he’d be grateful. If you don’t, he understands and hides his disappointment so you don’t feel bad. And if you encourage him to go with his friends, he won’t. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself, worrying about you being alone and scared. The only way he could go and actually have fun is if you’re with a friend or family member. 

Yamada Hizashi

His shouting and yelling can be intimidating. Sometimes it’s on purpose. Sometimes his voice booms on accident, notably when he’s emotional. But he hates seeing you flinch/recoil so he pays extra attention to his quirk whenever you’re around. 

He’d be a little bummed out if you don’t want to go to any concerts or live music because he loves sharing his interests with you. Don’t worry though. He gets it and would never push you. To make up for it, he’ll want to watch recordings of concerts with you. Even if you don’t like the band or music, sitting through the hour long video is the least you could do. He loves it so much and his smile is worth it.

He becomes very aware of your sensitivities in the environment. Every time a balloon pops or some kid screeches he checks in with you. Different days allow different tolerances. If you’re okay, he’ll be attentive to you from there on out, holding your hand for reassurance. If he turns and sees you’re clearly upset, he guides you to safety.

Those times when something thuds loudly in the next apartment and you can’t calm down even though there’s no real threat, he’s right there to soothe you. It’s the same through thunderstorms. If he’s not home, he’ll call you to talk you through it. If he is home, he’ll give you noise-canceling headphones and curl up with you under a soft blanket (totally not unlike that Ouran High School Host Club moment).

Gang Orca

He makes a lot of noise unintentionally. This guy’s footsteps can be surprisingly heavy and startling. His strength gets away from him every now and then, leading to something getting broken. And, while he’s not clumsy, having such a hulking figure has led his head and arms to get knocked against a wall or machine in a small space. Whenever he makes a sudden and/or loud noise, he apologizes immediately and comforts you. Sometimes you get more worried about his scuffed forehead than the sound. At least it diverts your attention away from any anxiety.

After getting startled, it’s hard to refocus because you’re so on edge, fearing another noise or something worse will come soon. He may not know how to help the first few times it happens. He just knows you’re scared and will comfort you to the best of his ability. Later, he’ll ask if there’s anything you use to self-soothe or what he can do to help you better.

He’s always willing to listen if you need to vent or want to open up about why you get scared. Sometimes there’s a physical or mental cause (hyperacusis, past trauma, high anxiety) and sometimes there isn’t. If it becomes debilitating and interrupts your life, he will encourage you to visit a doctor to see if there’s something out there that would help you. 

He loves thunderstorms. The rain, sounds, and smells are all comforting to him. He’s fairly shocked that some people don’t like them. During unusually intense thunderstorms, he’ll prepare a nice hot bath with your favorite candles and music. He’ll join if you ask and it’s possible it’ll lead to more intimate, distracting things.

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Four)

Chapter Four: Casino Night

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: y’all gonna hate me for this one

Nowhere in the office was safe for Spencer. Every single room, except for the men’s bathroom, was completely overtaken by Y/N and every other woman in the office rambling about the upcoming wedding. They’d apparently gone dress shopping together and he’d overheard them discussing the dresses Y/N had tried on. Not that he was interested in the act of dress shopping itself, but he imagined that even the ugliest dress on the market could never take away from Y/N’s beauty. She could drape a potato sack on her body and put on a veil and Spencer would still think she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. He wondered if Anderson thought the same.

But seriously, it was getting unbearable. The breakroom--the centerpieces, the bullpen--the dress, the kitchenette--whether or not she’ll have her hair up. He practically had to hide in the men’s room when he wasn’t on a case. Spencer hadn’t had a proper conversation with Y/N since the announcement. He missed her. He missed their little chats and he missed making her smile at his dumb jokes. 

He was currently hiding in the bathroom--despite him being absolutely grossed out by every surface--he planned on staying here for a few minutes, just to calm his racing heart. Every time someone brought the wedding up, it would send his heart and sweat glands into overdrive. He was glad the bathroom was empty so he could wash his face and pick at his nails until he was ready enough to leave it. He was leaning up against a wall when the door opened and Morgan walked in.

“Hiding, huh?” He asked knowingly, as if he was completely unfazed to see Spencer in there.

“Yup.” He replied simply, turning away as Morgan went.

Morgan sighed heavily as he emerged from the urinal and began to wash his hands, “I’m sorry, man. I can’t imagine how annoying it must be for you, but seriously if I have to hear Garcia ask one more time if she’ll be able to provide a vegetarian option, I might actually explode.” 

Spencer found it hard to smile back at his friend but managed to give him a nod. Morgan dried his hands and stood in front of Spencer, “Hey, have you tried talking to her? Maybe..telling her...” He trailed off suggestively.

“No! I haven’t even had the chance to say anything to her besides ‘good morning’. You know, with us being on cases and stuff, and now we’re in the office and I can’t even talk to her. And you can absolutely forget about me telling her anything about anything.” Spencer nearly pouted as he ran his hands over his face, absolutely exhausted.

“Well, okay, then forget the office. Talk to her at Rossi’s, she’s coming to Casino Night on Friday, right?” Morgan tried to reason.

“Yeah, but so is Anderson, and she won’t leave his side. So when the hell am I supposed to talk to her?” Spencer huffed frustratedly.

“You’ll figure it out, man. Now come on, you’ve been gone for too long, I think people are starting to worry about you.”

Rossi was hosting a mini casino night in his house--mansion--as a means for the whole team to unwind. Everyone was glad for the distraction since the last case hadn’t gone so well. It also gave everyone the excuse to dress up, which was nice for a change. Spencer wasn’t even sure whether his teammates would like it if he played with them, but he’ll go anyway, even if it’s just because he wanted a chance to talk to Y/N. 

Friday rolled around way faster than any of them had expected, or maybe because Spencer was stressing so much that time seemed to fly and everyone else experienced time normally. Thankfully they hadn’t gotten any cases and had the entire weekend off. Of course, he was the first to arrive, again. What is so difficult about coming on time? He was just jumpy and anxious because he’d try to talk to Y/N tonight. He doesn’t think he’d be confrontational or….confess anything, he just genuinely misses her. She and Anderson arrived half an hour after Spencer had. She looked...stunning. It wasn’t often that he’d see her all dressed up, it was almost too much for Spencer to handle. He could barely take his eyes off of her. 

She’d spotted him in the kitchen as soon as she came in and sent him an excited wave from the doorway. His face responded with a blush far faster than his hand responded with a wave. Morgan quickly whisked Anderson away and Spencer hoped it would be that way for the rest of the night. She quickly made her way over to him and Spencer was absolutely entranced by the way her emerald green dress sparkled and twinkled under the light coming from Rossi’s expensive chandeliers.

“Spence! Hey!” She began as she greeted him with a hug.

“Hey yourself. You, uh, you look really really pretty, by the way.” Spencer stammered as he stared back at her. He cursed himself for being so nervous.

“Thank you. You look dashing. You know how much I love this tie on you.” She grinned as she extended her hand to rest on the tie. Spencer was terrified she’d feel his heart beating through his chest, but was more than glad she’d noticed his tie. He’d worn it specifically because he remembered her complimenting him every time he wore it.

“I do...know, I mean.” He chuckled awkwardly as he tried not to focus on the way her hand was still on his chest. She was so close he could definitely smell her divine perfume. It always reminded him of her, he’d be able to recognize it anywhere. She gazed up at him so sweetly and Spencer’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the rich redness of her lipstick. So perfectly lined, so tempting. 

He’d decided then, red was his new favorite color.

“I missed you all week, we haven’t had the chance to talk at all.” She pouted her bottom lip ever so slightly and he never felt like he wanted to kiss someone as bad as he did then. He almost frowned when she stepped away to start pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” He felt as though her gravity was pulling him in and all 187 of his IQ points had decided to disappear right into thin air as she smiled up at him.

“Are you feeling okay, Spence?” She giggled, sipping from her glass, eyeing him from her spot at the island of the kitchen.

“Yep, totally great.” He tried to laugh it off, but before he could make more conversation, JJ had swept into the kitchen and announced that they were starting another game. She pulled a laughing Y/N out of the kitchen and to one of the makeshift round tables.

“Nu-uh! I’m not playing with Reid!” Emily exclaimed as Spencer took a seat at her table, which consisted of Morgan, Rossi, Anderson, and Garcia. Spencer laughed and raised his hands in defense.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you guys kinda suck.” Spencer joked and Rossi practically jumped out of his seat.

The night went on, filled with lots of laughter and sounds of chips hitting each other. Y/N found herself trying to catch Spencer’s eye most of the night. She’d missed him. The girls had been so excited with planning and discussing the wedding with her that she hadn’t talked to him in forever...well, it was only a week of intense distraction, but it felt like forever, okay? The few times he’d caught her eye, she found herself blushing and looking away quickly. 

Two hours later, Spencer had felt the need to get some fresh air outside when he heard Anderson get up and excuse himself inside. Oh no, they were leaving. He didn’t get to talk to her.

“Hey, babe, you ready?” Anderson asked Y/N, who was clearly in the middle of a game with the girls.

“Um, we’re leaving already? We just got here.” She replied, temporarily leaving her spot at the table.

“I’m just so beat, Y/N. I really wanna go home.” Anderson replied, coat already on, barely leaving her with any choice.

“Okay, um...no problem, I think I’ll stay for a while, I’ll catch a ride back with JJ. I’ll walk you out, hun.” She smiled and put up a finger to the ladies at the table to gesture that she’ll be back soon. Spencer sighed as he watched from the front porch as she led him to their car and pressed a kiss to his lips from the window when he got in.

“Night, babe. See you when I get home.” She smiled and waved as he drove away.

Spencer stood from his seat and she smiled upon seeing him.

“Hey! What are you doing out here? Bored already of taking everyone’s money?” She giggled, walking back up the front steps to meet him.

“Uhm, nothing, I was just getting some fresh air.” He attempted a smile, “Hey, so can I talk to you about something? Do you, want to...go back inside or would you like to, um, go to the backyard with me? It’s really beautiful.”

She totally forgot about the game going on inside and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go see the backyard.”

He led her to Rossi’s gorgeous backyard which was more elegant than anything the two had seen. The pool shone under the twinkling garden lights which also did an amazing job of giving her an ethereal glow. Spencer was nervous all of a sudden as he led them both to the center of the garden. It was quiet, the chatter coming from inside the house was faint, but it was peaceful enough for him to be able to catch his breath.

“So, are you having a good time?” She attempted to fill the silence as they strolled a little in the backyard.

He laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Um, well, considering Emily’s basically banned me from playing with her and Rossi literally shooed me away from his table, yeah, I’d say I’m having a great time!”

She laughed and the sound echoed in the garden, leading her to place a hand to her lips to try to suppress her giggles, “Sorry…” she mumbled a shy apology. He wanted to tell her to never apologize for laughing because it was truly music to his ears and his favorite sound in the world. 

He shook his head, once again in a trance, “You are so beautiful.” He said, with a dopey grin on his face. She felt her face grow hot as she caught his lovesick stare.

“Thanks Spence…” She recoiled shyly into herself, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his gaze. They hadn’t realized they stopped walking. Spencer found it hard not to stare.

“So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” She gazed up at him curiously. She caught herself thinking that his honey colored eyes were something she’d always want to stare into.

This was his last chance. It’s now or never.

“Um, I just- uh…” He trailed off nervously. 

His heart wasn’t just beating, it was absolutely going batshit crazy in his chest. He swallowed nervously as his hands made fists in his pockets. He wasn’t up for this, he really wasn’t. He’d never confessed...anything to a girl, let alone his undying love for her. Why is this so hard? It’s just five little words. Yeah, but five little words that had the power to ruin everything so quickly---

“Spence?” She prodded, her hands finding each other nervously. But as he looked down at her, he thought, how could he not be irrevocably in love with her? He took a deep breath and braced himself.

“I’m in love with you.” His eyes were alight with adoration and admiration as he confessed. Years and years of pent up love and feelings have finally led up to this moment.

“What?” She stared up at him incredulously. Of all the things she thought he’d say, that was absolutely not one of them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry if that makes things weird. I know it’s really bad timing, you’re about to get married in less than a month, but I had to let you know. At least once, so...I’m so undeniably in love with you, Y/N.” He swallowed nervously.

“What are you doing?” She began to frown, shaking her head in disbelief, tears beginning to line the inside of her waterline, “How am I supposed to react to that?” 

Her hands fiddled with the ring on her finger. The ring that suddenly felt too heavy on her hand. It felt wrong to wear it. Half of her heart wanted to throw it in the pool and run away with Spencer into the night and the other half--the half that was currently winning--was planting her feet into the ground.

“I just wanted you to know, Y/N. I’m not expecting anything from you, right now, or ever. Just as long as you’re happy, even if it’s...with him.” He felt the tears gather in his own eyes.

“Spencer...you--I can’t.” She sniffled, wiping a stray tear from underneath her eye. She couldn’t leave Anderson, not even when she knew she returned every bit of Spencer’s love and admiration. 

He nodded solemnly and wiped at his own eyes, “I get it.”

“You have no idea what this friendship means to me…” She began but Spencer shook his head, raising a hand to stop her.

“No, stop, stop, I don’t want just that,” he shrugged, “I want to be more than that, Y/N.” He sniffled through his nose.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Spence, I can’t.” He watched her red lips turn downwards into a deep frown as they tried to contain her small sobs. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault.” He tried to smile as he wiped his cheeks, stepping past her and slipping right back into the house.

Her feet felt as though they were rooted into the grass, the tears falling from her eyes were watering her in place. She couldn’t believe her ears. 

What just happened? 

Did Spencer really say all that or was she dreaming again? Did he really love her? As in, love her love her? That sounded too good to be true. It felt different than when she thought back to when Grant had first told her he loved her, did it feel like she felt now? Grant was such a safe option...he was always there. She’d always thought she’d marry him, he was the only person she’d ever been with. They’d been together for so long, it felt ridiculous to think of leaving him. Was she thinking of leaving him? She hadn’t decided yet. She was never the type to leave someone at the altar, Grant was the safe option, she repeated. It’s already all planned out.

She hadn’t realized how much time she had spent in the garden until she found JJ taking a seat next to her on one of Rossi’s bamboo chairs.

“Hey, you disappeared, is everything alright?” JJ asked and Y/N was glad she was slightly turned away from her so she couldn’t see the remnants of her tears.

“I...I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m--I’m just--,” She choked back a sob, her emotions bubbling up inside of her. JJ was quick to pull her up to wrap her in a compassionate hug, “I don’t know what to do, JJ.”

“What is this about?” JJ asked, even though she had a very strong inkling as to what it was about.

“He’s my best friend.” She said simply and it clicked in JJ’s mind. She sighed and nodded, but her blue eyes looked past Y/N.

“Um, I think you two have a lot to talk about.” JJ said before leaving hurriedly, giving the two the privacy they needed.

Y/N turned to face Spencer again, who had his hands in his pockets, “Spence, I’m sor-” She began but she was immediately cut off by Spencer’s soft lips enveloping hers. She gave in quickly as his hands came up to cradle her cheeks and guide her into his face as much as he possibly could. Her hands instinctively rested upon his warm chest. It simultaneously felt as if they’d both kissed a thousand times, yet it was still foreign to her. She’d never known that a simple kiss could be so powerful and intoxicating. Of all her years dating Anderson, never once had he kissed her with this much passion. She’d thought all those authors of all those romance novels must have been exaggerating when they’d said a kiss transported them somewhere--but now she knew. She knew what that felt like. And she never wanted it to end.

But it had to end. Because everything that’s good ends.

All Spencer could remember thinking was, finally, finally! 

Their lips pulled away from each other and neither could contain the little smiles they had, but their faces remained close, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

She blushed, shaking her head slightly, “No, I think I might have an idea.”

Spencer’s thumbs caressed the soft skin of her cheeks as he gazed longingly at her lips again. Now that he’s gotten a taste, he’s not sure he can control his impulses. He found himself leaning in for more and her almost giving in before pressing firmly on his chest.

“Spence…” She spoke against her better judgement.

“You’re really going to marry him?” He frowned, taking back his hands from her face, she felt the warmth disappear immediately and found herself wishing for it back. As a compromise, she grabbed his hands before they went to his sides, trying to hold onto any semblance of warmth she could.

She nodded solemnly, having made up her mind, although Spencer’s kiss was nearly pushing her off the edge of what was right and what was wrong, or rather--what was safe and what was not. She never had to worry about whether or not Grant would come back home to her, she never had to worry about Grant being blown up in some ranch in Colorado, she never had to worry about serial killers chasing after her. 

“Okay.” He nodded simply, respecting her final choice. 

He took a few steps back, their hands slowly slipping from each other, before disappearing into the house once more. 

He felt as though that was the end. He’d let it all out to dry, she finally knew how he felt about her. And that was the most important part. He was broken, sure, but at least he felt a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

He didn’t have to hide anymore.

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[weirdthinkingdragon]

Unwanted Devotion

Yandere Erasermic x Reader

Warnings of yandere and obsessive themes, and kidnapping (like usual)

I was resting in the cat cafe with my best friend, Adara. She loves cats almost as much as me, and they seem rather fond of us too. I scratched the chin of a long-haired Bombay. Its fur was extremely soft and silky to the touch. They take really good care of the cats here. I should know from working here before. Adara laughed as the tail of a white Persian swiped across her nose. It was a peaceful silence between us otherwise.

“So, anyway, have you got anyone to date yet?” She asked, suddenly speaking up. Why did this have to come up? “Eh, only once, but it didn’t last long since he liked someone better.” 

“Ouch. Well, definitely plenty of fish in the sea, huh?” I sighed. “Yeah, but that isn’t really the main focus right now. I can focus on that after my job starts to pay me more. Barely scraping by, but they’re giving me a raise hopefully next week.” 

“That’s not a wrong thing to do.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Says the one married to a rich man already.” 

“Once again, true.” The bell opened to two men entering. They seem slightly familiar. Adara seemed to recognize them before I did. “No way! Is that Hizashi and Shouta!?” I knew she was about to yell out to them. I tried to stop her by covering her mouth, but she leaned away right before. “Hey, Hizashi! Shouta! Is it really you two!?” Her yelling caused the two of them to turn their heads into our direction. A face of annoyance came over the one with the long black hair. It perked up a bit when he and I locked eyes. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to come to our table, especially seeing the two cats with us. The Bombay of which decided to rest in front of me on the table. That seemed to grab Shouta’s attention. It just looked at him while purring contentedly.  He seemed rather surprised. It could be this one doesn’t like many people. Adara sat next to me for the other seat to be empty for the two of them. 

“It’s been AGES guys! We really should have kept better touch! How have the two of ya been!?” As hyper as ever Hizashi exclaimed. It startled the Bombay, making their fur puff up, but they still didn’t move. 

Adara nodded. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. Surprised to see you guys here. The two of you have been rather busy, huh? being heroes AND teachers now.” 

Wait… what? “Wait… they’re teachers now?” She nodded. “Yep. They actually have been for a few years already!” My eyes widened in surprise. “Hah, wow, never expected you to become a teacher Shouta!” He kept his ever so stoic expression. I do however have a growing interest in how he got that scar on his face. Something tells me it might be a touchy subject though, so no bringing it up.  

A cream-colored Persian went into Shouta’s lap, instantly getting his black outfit full of bright long specks. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest, and it made Hizashi chuckle at him. Hizashi grabbed Shouta’s free hand closest to him and interlocked their fingers. An odd sense of sadness came over me, but there was also happiness as well. Shouta seemed to be looking around making sure no one else saw. It wasn’t very busy considering it was night and had less than half an hour before closing. 

It reminds me that I used to like both a while ago. Of course, now that's definitely off the table. It’s great they stuck towards their heroic desires though. I had to give up from not being able to intern. Same with Adara. Shouta saw where my sight was aimed and tried to pull his hand from Hizashi. “No worries! We can keep it a secret!” Adara piped up.

I smirked at her and looked at them. “What secret?.” She smirks back and that seems to ease Shouta. “Ya should have told me you quit working here! I was tryin’ to find ya months ago! I asked your co-workers when you worked so I could drop by. They refused to tell me!” 

“Well, think about it. They probably thought you might have been a stalker or something. You’re not as recognizable without your hair up.” He thought for a moment and nodded. “Ya got me there!” 

“Still, really bummed they didn’t even tell me someone was asking for me. We could have met so much sooner!” 

“You’re tellin’ me! Well, don’t stop now! Give me your number!”

I laughed at his enthusiasm and gladly gave it to him. He almost too eagerly put my number into his phone. “Might as well give me your number as well.” Shouta piped up. I was rather surprised he wanted it. He didn’t talk to me much back in school. He did often sit by me though. Rather closely too, but there was nothing about it. I shrugged it off and also gave it to him. Adara did the same, but they didn’t seem as enthusiastic about it? Well, she can be rather annoying in her texts. The Bombay demanded attention again by rubbing their head against my hand. 

“Anyways, I envy the energy you have Hizashi. You never seem to run out.” I commented. 

“I really wish he would. He can never be quiet.”  

“Aw Sho, don’t be like that! Ya know you dig it!” 

“I really don’t.” Hizashi looped his arm around Shouta’s shoulders. “Baaaabe! Don’t be so meeeeaaan!” 

“Quiet down!” He snapped, quickly looking around again. None of the staff were in earshot distance and they were busy starting to sweep and restock things. 

“I’d like to ask something if that’s okay,” I said. Shouta looked at me and nodded while Hizashi and Adara were spouting something about music and new slang. He nodded. “How long have the two of you been together? You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal though.” 

He seems to think for a moment. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t long after school. We met up again and spoke to each other at times like now when we have the time,” He looked over and “glared” at Hizashi. “If only he could be a bit quieter, but that’s never going to change with his loud mouth.”

“Were ya talkin’ ‘bout me, babe?” Hizashi suddenly asks, gaining attention towards us. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe, maybe not,” A smirk grew on my face. “He’s just saying how much he loves you.” Shouta glares harshly at me with a bit of blush forming on his face as Hizashi quickly pulls him closer. “Aw! How sweet of ya!” Adara laughs at Shouta’s misery. 

Hizashi looked at me. “So, y/n, have ya got a lover yet?” I groaned. “Adara JUST asked me that before you two came!”

“We weren’t here then.” I sighed heavily. “No, and I’m not planning on it until my life is more together.” The two of them grew worried expressions. “What do you mean?” 

I gave a nonchalant shrug. “Just having trouble with a bad landlord and bills. You know, the usual sucky things of life.” Hizashi looked at me with a small frown. “We could-” I knew what he was about to say, and that’s a definite no.  “No. I can’t have you guys do that for me.” I cut in. “But we’re will-” 

“Nope! I’ll handle it on my own.” 

“Y/n, this is serious. Let us help you before it gets worse. I’d know.” Shouta’s voice turned incredibly stern. It almost made me want to cave in and accept it. No wonder he’s a teacher now. 

“Listen, I understand your guy’s concern for me, but I’ll be fine! You both have my number, so maybe just text me something later, and I’ll reach out if I need to.” I persisted. Shouta’s eyes narrowed more. I’ve forgotten how truly powerful this man’s glare was. Yikes. 

It felt like hours, though it was only seconds until he finally relented with a nod of his head and the other two let out their breath they were holding. 

Adara decided to break the tension in the worst way possible. “Hey, Y/n? Remember when you used to have a crush on-” I covered her mouth before she could finish. “That jerk from school? Yeah, I want to slap my younger self for ever having that damn thing on such a narcissist.” I quickly came up with that lie and glared harshly at her. I could tell Shouta can tell something was a lie. 

Adara licked my hand. It took a lot of restraint not to recoil and take my hand away from her mouth. “We better go. Text me later for us to meet up!” I told them, and dragged Adara out the door. I yanked on her long red hair to make her come, and as a little payback. As soon as we got out the door and a little ways away, I let go of her. “What was that about!? You were going to make it so awkward between us four than it already was!”

“Don’t try to deny it! You STILL have feelings for the both of them! I can tell just by the way you look at them!” 

“They’re together now! Do you know how bad it would be!? Seriously, they’d never want to talk to me again!” She shrugged. “I don’t know about that. They seemed still pretty interested in you.” 

“You’re reading too far into things. I don’t want this to come up again.” I hissed, and stormed away with feeling sheer embarrassment at the utter gall she had to try bringing that up. 

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

I started to hang out with the two of them in their limited free time. It surprised me they wanted me to hang out with the two of them every time they were free. My little thing I still had for them quickly vanished as I saw their interactions. Now it’s me trying not to physically gush how adorable they are together. Shouta was reading with his legs over Hizashi’s. A cute little habit I noticed of his is him always having to touch Shouta in some sort of way. In public? A “friendly” arm slung around his shoulders. Between us? Holding his hand or even just rubbing his hands on Shouta’s legs. Especially if Shouta is wearing shorts, like he is now. 

I didn't want to impede on their connection more and more as my mind focused on it. They don’t need me here. They were sitting on their couch while myself was on the loveseat. My phone was out in front of me while I absentmindedly glanced at the two of them from time to time. The more the thought wandered, isn’t this kinda weird as well? We don’t even really speak at times like this. Sure, the peace is great and all, but… Fuck it, this has to change. Come on Adara. Right now would be a great time to- 

My phone started to ring. It was Adara. Impeccable timing! I answered it and stood up to leave the room. “What’s up gir-’

“You need to get away from them NOW!!!” Adara sounded beyond panicked. Panic quickly started to rise in me as well as I glanced at the two men. They didn’t seem any different. I stopped looking before Hizashi and I could lock eyes. 

“What do you mean?” I question. 

“I fully underestimated just HOW much they love you! My husband was just warned by his friend you’re in danger. You need to leave, and NEVER be alone with them again! No matter how much they ask! Get out now, before you can’t again!” 

Okay, that’s beyond concerning. But they’d be caught if they ever did something like that! This can’t be a joke though. She’s surprisingly not one for jokes. 

“You’re on a suspect list! It’s free reign if they get you! RUN!” 

The fear increased tenfold with her words. I look back at the cou- They’re not there! Flight kicked in, and I started to run towards the front door. My wrist was suddenly grabbed, and my phone is yanked from my hand. My attention snapped forward to Shouta tightly gripping my phone. Tight enough his knuckles turned white as he pressed the speaker button. 

Hizashi was standing next to Shouta with a betrayed and hurt expression. His frown deeper than I’ve ever seen it. Shouta isn’t doing much better. “You know Adara, It’s rather hurtful to go back on trying to rekindle our love.” Chills ran up my spine. That doesn’t even sound like Hizashi. 

A shriek of surprise came over the phone. It quickly turned to her breathing heavily. She sounded more angry than fearful. “It’s because you two are fucking insane you put them on the suspect list!!” she spat. 

“That’s rather hurtful, dear Adara.” Hizashi fully blew off her accusation. 

Shouta squeezed it tight enough the screen started to crack. He wasn’t holding my wrist… I decided to run for it. I didn’t even get close to the door when something wrapped tightly around my waist and dragged me back. It was pulled up slightly to prevent me from falling. There was only one thing it could be… Shouta’s capture weapon. He was using his quirk and it only needed one hand. The other still held the phone. 

“You’re no longer needed. Stay quiet, and maybe things won’t end bad for you.” 

‘Crack’ the phone got crushed. 

I was in full blown panic now. Especially the look on their faces. It didn’t take long for Hizashi to hug me tightly. Something wet dripped onto my shoulder. Why is he crying!? If anything, I should be the one crying! “Sho, w-we did it all wrong!” Shouta sighs angrily. He stopped using his quirk, but his capture weapon still was wrapped tightly around me. Including my arms which were pinned to my sides. 

“We overheard that night. We were hoping to bring your love back to us by jealousy,” His eyes narrowed as he looked away. “Turns out that was clearly the wrong decision. It only drove you away more.” 

Hizashi hugged tighter. “Do-Don’t worry Songbird! We can still fix this! We can make ya love us again!” He turned his head towards Shouta. Shouta walked behind me and hugged my bound form as well. It was so binding to the point it was hard to breathe. I tried to squirm in their toxic grip. The attempt to break free was clearly fruitless, only succeeding in them squeezing tighter like a snake suffocating its prey. 

Shouta leaned to be right next to my ear, and let out a satisfied exhale. It being so close to my ear sent another shiver up my spine. “We should have done this much sooner.” Hizashi eagerly nodded as I started to get tired and stopped struggling. 

“Ya see! They’re already lovin’ us! Sho, it’s not close enough though!” In the corner of my eye, Shouta nodded in agreement. They released me, but like a leash Shouta pulls me over to the large couch, Hizashi not far behind. 

"Hold them." Shouta said, and pushed me closer to Hizashi. He didn't have to be told twice. Shouta quickly used his quirk to undo his capture weapon. They had a silent conversation as I started to squirm again. “Guys, stop this! I moved on, you guys need to as well!” 

Their faces turned to delusional obsession. Hizashi sat on the couch, and forced my legs to wrap around his lower back. Shouta quickly ties his capture weapon around my ankles before Hizashi lets go of my legs. 

Hizashi then leans against the armrest of the couch as Shouta goes behind me. He puts his legs over Hizashi’s, and leans forward to fully sandwich me. 

“No. We’ll make you love us again. We lost ya once, and never again.” 

“One way,” He leaned next to my ear again. “Or another.” It didn’t take a genius to know it was a threat… That and him squeezing his legs into my sides. 

It was easy to tell I wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere anytime soon…

[star-spangledstud]

Webcam

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (female!)reader.

Word Count: 2800-ish

Summary: You and Bucky try something you’ve never tried before. 

A/N: Based on the song ‘Cyber Sex’ by Doja Cat. (I’M OBSESSED WITH HER RIGHT NOW, OKAY?!” also my first smut so be gentle ;)

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (don’t read if you’re a minor mmkay?); masturbation; cursing

For the fourth time in half an hour, you looked at yourself in the mirror. With one finger, you cleaned up your lip gloss, removing it from the edge of your lower lip before tousling your hair to give it more volume. You straightened out your dress next, blushing to yourself when you thought of what you wore underneath. Bucky had no idea what was coming to him, you were sure of it. After all, you’d never had cybersex before. The guy hardly knew how to work an iPhone 4.

“Can you see me yet?” 

You chuckled, adjusting your camera so he would be able to see you better. Staring back at you was a black screen with three dots in the center and a small cutout square in the corner in which you could see yourself waving your hand in front of the webcam. You wiggled in your seat and squeezed your thighs together, anticipation bubbling in your lower belly at the thought of what you were about to do. 

“No,” he muttered, “how the hell does this work again? Hang on, baby, the computer hates me.”

He pressed several buttons, thick fingers jamming the keyboard in quick motions. You doubted he had any clue what he was doing. Technology had never been Bucky’s strong suit. 

You rolled your eyes and snorted, “James, we went over this. You have to press the camera button and make your own screen smaller with the little arrows so you can see me.”

A picture suddenly replaced the blackness, causing your cheeks to heat up and your heart to skip. There he was, your man, staring at his screen with a deep frown on his forehead and his tongue sticking out of his mouth; his concentration face. He was still dressed in his tactile suit, streaks of dirt evident on his chiseled cheekbones. 

“I see you now,” he said, smiling at you, “can you see me?” 

You nodded and waved again, smiling wide when he returned the gesture. You’d never get tired of seeing that face, not in a million years. He’d always give you butterflies.

“Where’s Steve?” You asked to be safe, peering into the motel room behind him.

“Got his own room for the night,” he commented, “I wanted to be alone with my best girl.”

He got up, placing the gun that had been lying on the desk in front of his computer on the nightstand of his double bed. The entire room seemed to entirely be clad in 80s decor, from the wallpaper to the sheets and even the TV behind him. You watched as he took another weapon from his waistband and placed it beside the other one. Then a knife, which he collected from his right boot, ended up on the table as well. 

“How long have you been in?” You asked. 

“We just got back ten minutes ago,” he smiled, “I couldn’t wait to see your face. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” you said, “come sit down, big guy.” 

He did as told and took a seat after taking his jacket off and hanging it up over the back of the chair. His finger went out to touch the screen but recoiled when he realized it was silly. He really did miss you, it had been too damn long since he was able to touch you. 

Bucky and Steve left nearly two months ago. He knew it would be a long mission with endless stakeouts and not a lot of action, which made the time pass by even slower. Every day he’d sit in various hiding spots for hours, underneath bushes, behind trees and sometimes even high up inside them with weapons at the ready but nobody to shoot. HYDRA employees seemed to live in the underground facility he and Steve had been staking out for weeks now because neither of them had seen anyone go in our out so far and it was starting to become frustrating. 

“We’re thinking we might call it quits in a few days,” he said, rubbing his arms, “we haven’t seen shit and we both doubt things will change anytime soon. It looks like they’re laying low for now. All the cameras are almost set up anyway, so we can watch ‘em remotely.” 

You nodded happily, excited at the prospect of seeing your boyfriend again soon. You missed him terribly, missed having him by your side every day and in your bed every night. You missed pulling at his hair while his hands were on your hips, fingertips pushing into your bare skin as he drew profanities from your lips. Fuck, you missed him terribly.

“Speaking of cameras,” you grinned, “do you like my new dress? Haven’t had a chance to show you yet.” You asked, getting up from your chair. 

You pushed it back so your whole body could get in the frame, your hands slowly running down the length of the pastel gingham dress that made your skin tone stand out beautifully. You could see Bucky closing in on his computer screen to see better, lower lip between his teeth when you twirled for him, making the skirt lift to expose more of your skin. He looked down at the white knee socks that clad your legs and the black Mary-Jane pumps on your feet and his lip turned red from the biting. 

“I love it,” he said breathlessly, “really makin’ me miss you right now.”

“I’ve so been lonely without you,” you purred.

To say you’d planned how this would go be a lie. You’d never undressed on camera before and weren’t exactly confident in your abilities to sensually strip for a man, but it was Bucky who you were doing it for and just knowing that made you feel more at ease. Nevertheless, your heart thumped in your chest while your fingers went to the hem of the dress, which ended just above your knees. Bucky frowned as you began to lift the piece of fabric slowly over your thighs, his breath hitching when you looked up into the webcam.

“What’re you doing?” He asked breathlessly, “baby...” 

He knew damn well what you were doing, he could see what you were doing with his icy blues, but he was afraid, terrified to think they were deceiving him or that it was all a terribly wonderful dream. Either way, he didn’t want to wake up before having the chance to see it all unfold. Being away from you for so long was starting to remind him of going to war. To make matters worse, he couldn’t just easily jerk off with Steve’s supersoldier hearing. Bucky was itching for release.

“Wanna show you how much I miss you, James,” you cooed, “cause I miss you real bad.” 

Your hands left the hem for a moment, fabric dropping to just above your knees again. Then, they found the underside of your breasts, your sternum, your stomach, and your hips. You caressed yourself, flicking your own nipples and fiddling with the cotton straps slowly before you finally lifted the dress up again, further this time. He’d soon be able to see your new underwear, pretty, soft, and pink just like your pussy. 

As soon as the fabric of the dress exposed the line of your panties, Bucky was gripping the table in front of him like his life depended on it. He’d never in his life thought about using modern communication devices for, well, sexual purposes, but the growing pressure inside his tactile pants had him suppressing a groan he could hardly keep inside his hot mouth and he had to stop himself from bucking his hips forward in an attempt to create deliciously painful friction against his pants.

Your bra, brand new and the same shade of baby pink with red lace around the wire, his favorite color on you, came into view and he was like a puddle at your feet. You tossed the dress on your bed, allowing your hands to slide up and down your body while he watched you in silence, the only sound being soft jazz music that played through your surround-sound system. Just the thought of his eyes on you getting naked in your bedroom made wetness pool between your legs.

You sauntered back towards the camera, using your hands to lean against the desk so your breasts were pushed together. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of him, had been ever since he was roughly whisked away from you two months ago and Jesus Christ you needed him so bad. It was a fucking sin to be away from him for so long. How the hell did you survive before you met him? How did you get off without his dick?

“Is that new too? Did you buy that for me as well?” He asked, voice gruff and dangerously low. 

You nodded, showing off the fabric by coming even closer to the camera. Then, you turned around again, slightly shaking your ass when you showed him the back of your panties up close. Your thumbs hooked under the band on your hips and they smacked against your skin when you let it go again. 

“I can’t wait to see you in that in-person, baby. All the things I’m gonna do to you while you’re wearing it. Gonna rip it right off you.”

“Yeah?” you taunted, licking your lips while cupping your bra with both hands.

“You doubtin’ me?” he asked darkly. 

“Seeing is believing, Sarge.”

“You’ll see it,” he smirked, “feel it too, when I shove my fucking cock down your throat.” 

You sat back down in the chair, squeezing your legs together to stop the ache between them as you shivered. How bad you wished he would come barging into the room right then and there to make you his, how much you needed his hand around your throat while he fucked you mercilessly into the desk, the thoughts were driving you up the fucking wall. You inhaled deeply, a deep breath enough to suck in the courage for what you were about to say. 

“I’m so wet for you, James.” 

You could hear the sharp intake of breath through the microphone of your laptop. He remained silent for a moment, contemplating what to say. He’d never done this before, but he wanted to make you happy in any way he could. He’d do anything for you, even being thousands of miles away from you. 

“Are you now?” he huffed, “guess that since I can’t be there to help you, you’re gonna have to listen to what I tell you to do. Can you do that for me, baby? Be so good for me.” 

You nodded quickly, taking your index finger in your mouth and biting the skin in anticipation. He had you writhing in your chair without even touching you. You didn’t know what it was about him, but everything about him turned you on, from the way his jawline was covered in dark scruff to his metal arm, which gleamed beautifully in the artificial motel room light. Everything about him oozed masculinity. 

“Show me how wet you are,” he told you, “come on angel.” 

You did as told by placing both heels on either side of the desk. He could already see the wet patch in the center of your panties begin to form and this time, Bucky couldn’t help but to let out a throaty groan when memories of him fucking you harshly and relentlessly into the mattress behind you clouded his vision. 

“I’ve been so lonely without you, Bucky,” you said, rubbing your fingers across your inner thighs teasingly, “It’s just not the same when I do it.”

He palmed his cock through his pants en began to rub it slowly at the sight of you; one hand moving over your clothed pussy and the other disappearing inside the cup of your bra. You adored way his dark, long hair was tied in a messy bun and wished you could reach through the screen to touch it. You wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips trailing down between your breasts, along your stomach and to the place where you needed him most. 

“Take it off,” he grumbled as he undid the button and unzipped his pants, “all of it. Take it off right now.”

He didn’t have to tell you again. Your bra was on the floor in seconds, exposing your perked nipples to the cold air of your room and his wanting gaze. You wiggled out of your panties, dropping them on the ground in front of you. Then, your legs resumed their previous position, one on the left side of your laptop and the other on the right, heels clicking against the wood in anticipation. 

You swore you could hear him curse underneath his breath when he caught a view of your naked pussy, glistening with slick and pretty pink contrasted by dark tan lines. He pulled his straining cock free from his boxers at last. It’s hard and thick, so fucking thick it made you want to cry out in desperation. There was no way you could’ve waited another day without at least seeing him, it was downright torture.

“So pretty, baby,” he groaned into his microphone, “touch yourself for me.”

You did as told, placing a finger on your most sensitive place, “Like this?” 

You began to rub circles over your clit, finally allowing a moan to escape your lips while Bucky slowly rubbed his throbbing cock. 

“Jesus, I want you to come sit on my dick,” his eyes screwed shut, “fuck you ‘til you can’t breathe.” 

“Come home then,” you tease, licking your finger before placing it back on your nub, “I’ll sit on your dick all day long.” 

“All day? You sure you can handle that?” He asked, eyes opening again just in time to see you plunge your middle finger inside yourself. 

You were so hot, burning to the touch and your back arched involuntarily when you dipped your finger in and out of your glistening pussy, “I’ll sit on your dick and your face, Bucky. You’re my favorite seat.” 

He chuckled, his grip on his cock tightening in an attempt to mimic the way you felt clenching around him. He envisioned it, your pussy over his mouth, nose pushed against your public bone as his tongue dove in and out of you. He’d grip your ass and smack it red with his metal one while groping your tits with his flesh one, drinking you up as you came in his mouth, driven to near madness from the feeling of his scruff against your most sensitive area.

You couldn’t wait for him to be with you again so he could be the one whose fingers were inside you instead of your own, ready to cave under the pressure of his muscular body on top of you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, plunging another digit in so your middle finger wouldn’t cramp up, “wish you could cum in my mouth.” 

“Jesus Christ, I will,” the velvet murmur of his voice reminded you to look up at the camera instead of down at yourself, “soon as I get back to you I’ll cum wherever you want.”

You began to pump faster, rubbing your clit in smaller and more intense circles than before. You could see him do the same, increasing the speed with which he jerked himself off. His face was red and gleaming with sweat, running along his temple and down his neck. Your moans echoed through his speakers and through your room, filling his ears with a sound so delicious it nearly drove him insane.

“Cum for me, baby,” he urged, “I wanna see you make yourself cum like my good girl.” 

Pleasure overtook you when his words rang in your ears on repeat, eyes screwing shut when you continued to plunge your fingers inside you at a fast pace. Your hips rolled inside the chair, desperate for as much friction as you could possibly get. It creaked under your jerky movements, but you didn’t pay it any attention when Bucky’s voice filled the room through the speakers. 

You tossed your head back in bliss, pressure building so fast and deep inside of you that you knew you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Keep going,” he urged, “don’t you dare stop, baby.” 

“James, fuck” you moaned loudly, “I’m gonna..” 

Before you could finish your sentence, you were cumming so hard you saw stars clouding your vision. Your walls clenched around your fingers while you continued to rub circles over your oversensitized clit in an attempt to ride out your orgasm as long as you could. The coil of pleasure inside your lower belly finally snapped, sending sparks before your eyes and your mind blanked. 

You shuddered and opened your eyes, watching Bucky stroke himself from tip to base, hair beginning to fall from the bun atop his head the more he tilted his head back. 

With a harsh pant, he came all over his stomach, coating the black tactile vest in glossy white spurts of hot cum. He’d have to clean it before tomorrow because his other one had ripped when trying to climb a tree, but right now, all he could think about was how good it felt.

He fell back inside his chair, hands falling limply to his sides while he watched you remove your fingers from inside you. 

“We should’ve done this two months ago,” he panted, “could’ve saved me a lot of lonely nights.” 

You smiled blissfully, wiping a strand of sticky hair from your forehead.

Still, you couldn’t wait to have him with you for real. 

[anonymous0writer]

Dial Tones II JJ Maybank

Author: @anonymous0writer​

Warnings: Alcohol use. Some bad self image. All characters have been made 18+ and for this, I imagined them in college and living on their own.

Requested: Yes!

“Omg I would love it if you wrote for the obx cast! You are such a talented writer! And you are definitely not annoying anyone with the spamming. You are filling the void during this quarantine ❤️ could I also request a songfic for JJ x reader based off 3 AM by Halsey?”

A/N: I love Halsey, and these songfics are giving me life. Ugh, I love writing based off songs sm. Also, anon, you are an angel! <3

This is really sad, like super sad I was like shit, girl you need help when writing, and the reader has kinda a lot of issues, but I was going off the lyrics. 

Song lyrics look like this

Darling, I just left the bar And I've misplaced all my credit cards My self preservation and all of my reservations Are sitting and contemplatin' what to do with me, do with me

You stumble, blinded by the alcohol surging in your veins. Your hands dart out, catching your fall as you lean against the brick wall of the bar. The rough building material scratches at your hands. You take a deep breath, smiling like a fool due the one thing and one thing only. The heavy intake of sharp alcohol. Tomorrow you’d be in a world of hurt, but your brain was too muddled and everything seemed too light for you to worry about it.

At the back of your mind hung the memories and words you tried to push away so desperately. The words that made you tip the shot back a little farther. There was nothing in particular, but every relationship, every emotion hinged onto them were enough to make you want to pass out drunk. 

A sob rises in your throat, but you swallow it down, your vision going blurry. The shapes of cars speeding past and the silhouettes of people blur, the edges bleeding like water to ink.

The pads of your fingers scrape against the brick, making them go raw as you stumble along the wall, fighting the sobs and the storm of feelings catching up to you. This was the exact thing you tried to hold back, but the laughs turned into cries so easily it was hard to tell which one was which.

Think I took it way too far And I'm stumbling drunk, getting in a car

You fumbled for the keys to your car, tears burning at the back of your eyes. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wince as the car’s light flashes and cut into the fog of your brain, searing through your thoughts. You took it too far this time. Drunk too much, drowned your storm of thoughts and feelings in the deeper pit. You had fallen off the edge too many times and here you were, fumbling to get the car door open just to sit in it and cry. 

Of course you took it too far. Isn’t that what you always did? 

My insecurities are hurting me Someone, please come and flirt with me I really need a mirror that'll come along and tell me that I'm fine

You glared, eyebrows slanting over your eyes. Nasty thoughts relating to your body or personality attacked, burning your skin as they hit. They were like mosquitoes, nasty and just there to feed. And of course, you could only stop a few until you gave up, waking up the next morning with the aftermath marring your skin. 

The mirror stared back at you, your twin glittering in the light. The girl was glaring back, equally mad about the way you looked. About the way your hips curved in the dress, and the way your stomach popped out, dress doing nothing to smooth over it.

You closed your eyes, feet curling into the carpet as you twisted around, refusing to continue searching for imperfections. You just needed to get to the club, see your friends and find a half drunk man to flirt with to forget the girl in the mirror. 

I do it every time I keep on hanging on the line Ignoring every warning sign Come on and make me feel alright again

“No, don’t do it,” Kiara shook her head, watching you with saddened eyes as your phone was clutched in your hand. His familiar name and face was waiting to be summoned as your finger hovered over the call button. 

Your jaw flickered as you debated. The few shots in your system said hell yes, the broken part of yourself asked to hear his words in a small voice as the sober you screamed not to. It wasn’t smart, that was sure, but you couldn't help the need to hear the gruffness of his voice when he woke up, or the softness of his voice when he was tired, or the smirk in his words as he eyed you. You felt the need to hear his voice and picture him as he talked to you, only for him to hang up too soon and a hollow feeling pooling in the cavity of your chest. 

You didn’t even process it as your finger pressed on the screen and the call was dialing, waiting on the edge of your seat to see if he’d even pick up. 

You ignored Kiara’s cry of protest and Sarah’s huff of pity. You didn’t want to see the look on their faces as he hung up and left you worse than before. You didn’t want to feel the way Sarah slid her arm over your shoulders and pulled you close. You didn’t want to hear the soft words from Kie’s mouth, telling you to move on and find another one. Because if you found someone else, they’d just do what every other man did. Love and leave. Love and leave. It was a vicious circle, but it was easier to fall back into the routine of drunk calling him instead of having your hope rise as you found another. So you ignored the warning signs. 

You snapped back as the dial tone rang into your ear, stark and buzzing. He let it run through.

'Cause it's 3am And I'm calling everybody that I know And here we go again While I'm running through the numbers in my phone

You were seated in your bed, hair messy and clothes in disarray from the constant tossing and turning as your brain wouldn’t turn off. So you restored into what you always did. Call. Phone in front of you, screen glaring its ugly light to illuminate your face. Hands shaking as they reached for the next number. Which you paid attention to. You’d always call, still in your thoughts or exhausted when you ran through the list of numbers. But you were always alert when your finger passed over his number. 

Your eyes stared so hard at the ten digits they swum across the screen. You blinked, eyelashes brushing against your pale cheeks. Your fingers reached for the call button, hands trembling like they always did this late. 

The pad of your finger touched the number. Your room swelled with the ring of the dial tone, and you held your breath. Hoping.

I need it digital 'Cause, baby, when it's physical I end up alone, end up alone

“Hello?” His voice broke through the calm of your room, making your eyes dart to the screen. He had picked up.

 “Hi,” Your voice rose and broke, the quiver of your hands seeping into your voice. 

“Y/N.” 

His voice sounded tired and disappointed. He wasn’t happy to see you calling- not like the way your heart rose when it showed he picked up. Your face fell, heart crashing into your stomach, the remainder of your barely intact heart falling to pieces, joining the graveyard of the others. You swallowed, emotions bubbling in you so fast it made you dizzy. 

“I’m sorry,” You words were whispered, barely carrying through the phone meeting his ear. “I’m so sorry.” 

By now you didn’t even know what you were apologizing for. Forcing him away? Calling him repeatedly? When you were drunk? When you were plagued with your own mind? For begin so easy to break? For giving him a broken heart? For not being able to love yourself no matter what anyone thought? For letting your thoughts kill you slowly? For scaring him off? No matter what it was, you were sorry.

“Stop.” He begged, and your glassy eyes snapped to the phone. Your trembling hands clenched the sheets. “Please stop. Don’t do this again.” 

Another ‘sorry’ escaped your lips. 

“Stop crying, Y/N. Pick yourself up. Move on. Take care of yourself and get help.” The familiar soothe of his words easing your mind and heart. Your thoughts dropped, recoiling away into the corners of your mind. Your lips parted but no words came spilling. 

“You need to help yourself. You have to stop throwing yourself into relationships when you’re so broken. Y/N, please.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed and you took in his words, letting them soak into your skin, soothing the burns of your destructive thoughts, holding up the broken parts of your heart and making you warm. The power of his voice was enough to allow you to sleep. But his voice faded and he hung up. The call ended, leaving you laying on your back, blankets surrounding you in a halo, eyes staring at your ceiling blankly. Breathes pulling and exiting your chest, making a soft hum in the dead quiet of your darkened room. 

Loving someone in the real light. Physically, mentally- that was hard. Digitally was easier, allowing you to have some distance. Phone calls and texts allowed you to not throw your shit on them. No matter what you did. No matter the calls or the hugs- you always ended up in your room, breathing shallow and wall the only thing entertaining. You always ended up alone.

Every night I wanna live in color through a white-blue screen I got a technicolor vision going vivid in my white-blue jeans I know it's complicated 'cause everyone that I've dated Says they hate it 'cause they don't know what to do with me, do with me

Nights were the best and worst. Early nights, where you danced your feet sore, sang your throat raw and drank your brain fuzzy. But late nights were the opposite. Staring the ceiling until your eyes unfocused, listening to the stuffy silence, the dial tone ringing in your ears along with the countless calls not taken.

But tonight was a good night. Kie and Sarah were with you, laughter and fun in higher doses than the alcohol. You three were crammed into the dance floor, the music so loud it was practically pulsing through the floor, making the vibrations shiver in your bones. 

The lights of the club were alive and bright, the colors flashing and moving to the beat of the music, casting shadows and lights across your skin. Red and blue and then purple danced across your body, chased by the slashes of orange and the dots of yellow. 

You loved living like this, the beat of the music in your bones, the colors of the lights flashing across your skin in wild patterns. When you danced with your best friends, laughter loud and smiles true bright. 

But you usually weren’t like this. You liked the calm of the take out sitting on your balcony and staring at the city. You were complicated and what you liked changed all the time. You would want to stay out all night for a second, and the next you’d want to curl up in bed and watch movies. Your mind flipped and switched constantly, confusing the boys in your life. You were complicated. And they hated it. Hated the way you changed your mind and were so broken. And they made sure you knew it. They didn’t know what to do with your changing mind and dark thoughts and broken heart. So they did what the last one did. Left.

I need it digital 'Cause baby when it's physical I end up alone

You smiled softly, your tears drying and the edges of your mouth tilting up. You sniffle and listen to the video over, hands easing in their constant shaking. You closed your eyes, listening to the hum of his laugh and the crinkle of his eyes as he grinned. You opened your eyes again, watching the clip with a bittersweet taste on your tongue.

The camera flipped and dropped as his arms encircled your waist, pulling you into his lap as you giggled. 

“JJ!” Your voice was high and bursting with joy. His face was lost into the crook of your neck, and when he looked up, his eyes found the camera. 

Your breath shortened at the light hitting his eyes and lighting up the cerulean color. His eyes were beautiful. 

The boy reached forward, “Are you taping me, baby?” You giggled and tried to wiggle out of his grip. 

You jumped up, and the boy pouted. “Where you goin’, pretty girl?”

“I have your gift!” You grinned, and the camera showed off JJ, his hair somewhat tamed and his lips tugging into a grin. 

The camera flashed as you quickly got the small, gray box. You shoved the small gift into his hands and urged him to open it. 

“Open it, J!” You urged, the camera still focused on him and his anticipated reaction. You held your breath as his quick hands worked on the ribbon. It came undone, falling to the floor as the boy eased the box open. 

In it lay a shark tooth necklace, carefully coiled. JJ’s grin widens, splitting across his face and you clap your hands, the camera shaking. 

“Do you like it?” You ask as his fingers undo the tight coil and play with the beads. His eyes flicker up to meet yours. 

“Of course. I love it.” He grins and loops the necklace around his neck. 

You close your eyes as the video continues, loud laughter and admiration from the blue eyed boy playing loudly. You soak in the loud laughter of a happier time. You wonder briefly if he still wears the necklace, or if he even still has it. You’d given it to him after he admitted how ‘badass a shark tooth would look’ around his neck. 

You open your eyes, a small tear trickling from your eye and making a small river down the plain of your cheek. Your eyes find the video, where it stops on JJ’s face, grin wide and teeth flashing, eyes lit by the sunlight and a new necklace worn proudly around his throat.

You stare at it, marveling over that time. 

He really was everything.