#and he goes Can't even imagine the place without her anymore

[siennaditbot]

Will probably tune these concepts and pics later but here's something about how these two fell for each other :>

Slushie had seen the Chaotix in action before, especially during the metal virus arc when they saved her and many others. (That first Espio is straight outta IDW so this could happen during the attack in Seaside City, she just gotta run for her life lol)

She hasn't talked to them at this point but already thought that especially Espio is really cool. It's just admiration at this point, though.

It's when she really starts to get to know him (after the metal virus when she goes to them for training) that she actually starts to fall for him.

She adores how much he loves his family and how soft and expressive he can get with them. She still thinks he's super cool, of course.

Espio doesn't think much about her at first, she seems like an ordinary citizen

Soon he starts to appreciate how strong and cool she can be, especially when he sees her in action for the first time. (just imagine heaps of broken robots in the first pic, I'm tired and dynamic kicks are difficult to draw lol)

Still, it's gotta be her getting along with the rest of the team that makes him actually fall for her. I don't think he'd let anyone that close if they didn't get along with his family.

He'd often see Slushie playing with Charmy, casually having tea/coffee with Vector or baking in their kitchen and suddenly he'd start to notice his face heating up and think stuff like "When did she get so close?" or "She looks so at home here." or smth <3

Ok, looking at them again, I'm really not happy with the drawings, I'm gonna redraw them for sure. Gotta try to do some digital versions at some point I guess.

Anyway, at least the basic idea is now out there. Hopefully yall enjoy these even a little bit 🙈

[prettyboykatsuki]

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

__

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

[insertdisc5]

✨ The In Stars and Time Spoiler Q&A ✨

it's time. MASSIVE IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IT'S GONNA BE SO LONG. LET'S GO

I hope you are aware of The Secret Final Boss because I'm also gonna spoil the crab out of that. If you haven't,

1. Did you know the events for interacting with your souvenirs are randomized for some of them, and also change depending on how far you are in the game.

2. Did you know there's a way to show souvenirs to a certain character.

3. Did you know you can go back to Dormont during the Epilogue.

Figure that out, and come back here! Or watch a let's play online. You can also do that.

I will also try to adopt a ~mysterious cool voice with no exclamation points~ for Effect. Come with me on this journey.

Now. Questions time!

✨ Will you ever make a sequel to ISAT, or make a game in the same universe?

Nah. This was always intended to be The Story. This is your turn to imagine things now.

✨ But so what happened to the Country? What was its name? What about the wishes? What about the colors? What did Siffrin say as an openphrase to open the door to the King's room? What about--

I will not answer those. It's your turn.

✨ BUT THE COUNTRY AND THE COLORS AND THE WISHES

Ok fine. Here are some facts that I alluded to in-game, that I am confirming now.

-The Country disappearing and the events that made colors go away are not related.

-The colors disappeared a loooong time ago, which is why knowing they even existed is a relatively new find.

-A wish made everyone forget the Country.

I will ALSO say that ISAT's map operates on Final Fantasy/General Fantasy rules (i.e. in-universe locations are based off of real ones when it comes to culture, but are not one to one parallels, especially for geography), so no, the Country isn't based on the UK oh my god please do not say that to me again or im deleting ISAT out of your computers and putting legos at the foot of your bed. It's based on another place. You can figure it out, I believe in you.

✨ But why won't you give more info on what happened :(

Can you imagine if I did answer. Wouldn't that be a bummer, whatever my answer was. Sometimes things need to stay a mystery. And also, I don't want to answer <3

✨ Does the world Loop came from still exist after they left? Or is this a get mystery'd situation?

There is only One Timeline and it's the timeline that goes from the prologue to ISAT. Every timeline that gets rewound does not exist anymore, and that includes the prologue's timeline.

✨ What's the deal with Siffrin's dream at the start?

It's Siffrin's dream, but that doesn't mean our Siffrin is the main star.

✨ Is [specific missable game moment] canon?

Every moment that you personally experience in the game is canon.

✨ Is there a reason Siffrin remembers their name but the King doesn't?

What makes you think Siffrin does?

✨ At the very very end of the game, if you look out the window behind the Head Housemaiden, Sif mentions seeing an island in the distance. Is that his country?

It is. It's always been there, for the whole game. You can see it in the distance, too.

✨ Who was the King, before?

He was just a guy!

✨ With the King left remembering in the end, does that in any way change the redaction effect for other people in the world going forward?

That's a fun idea. Maybe!

✨ One thing that never really clicked for me is: Is the sweet smell Time Craft or Wish Craft? Or is the sweet smell TIme Craft and specifically the burnt sugar smell is Wish Craft? Other way around? Does this question even matter since without Wish Craft you can't attain Time Craft in the first place? (To me, yes.)

Wish Craft smells sweet. Time Craft doesn't have a smell per se, but it does do something.

✨ Does Mirabelle retain her immunity to being frozen in time after the events of the game or does it go away after the Head Housemaiden is saved? Or does it persist for a while and eventually fade away?

I imagine the immunity slowly faded away. But no one's left to do Time Craft, so it's a moot point anyway.

✨ How was Odile able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight against Siffrin?

In the Discord channel I stated that it's because "she's just that cool", but really, she does have access to some skills that heighten the efficacity of Rock/Paper/Scissors attacks, so it's not too much of a stretch to imagine she could lower the efficacity of Time Craft as well. In this last loop, while listening to Loop and observing, she could figure out Siffrin was looping way earlier than she could in even the Sus Quest, so she made plans. She is Very Smart <3

✨ Will you ever share everyone's full names?

That's artbook content <3

✨ In the ending, what happened to Siffrin's hat?

Flew away. It's gone now.

✨ Looking back at the original comics, and seeing how comic!sif has both eyes at the start of their loops, but in ending sequences is shown with his eye patch...did you ever consider making that concept of sif losing their eye a part of the main loop in either of your games? and if so, was there any reason why you decided against it?

Early on, I did think about making that whole event an event that happens during the loops, but quickly let that go since 1. it would be a pain to write and code (two different sets of Siffrin portraits!) and 2. if it happened, the player might want to look for a way to NOT make that happen and so 3. it would be a pain to write and code

✨ How was Siffrin's homelife before?

Pretty good!

✨ How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

Both were teens.

✨ How old IS everyone?

Siffrin is mid-late 20s. Mirabelle and Isabeau are early-mid 20s, with Isabeau being slightly older. Bonnie is a preteen. Odile is Too Old For This. Petronille, Bonnie's sister, is late teens-early 20s. You can ignore whatever I said in the prologue's artbook, whoever wrote this was Wrong!!!!!!!!!!

✨ Regarding the book that talks about someone who crafted a copy of themself using wish craft: is that meant to imply someone we know is the author (and/or the copy), or is it not directly related to any of em? or is it a "who knows ;)" situation where we can just speculate and theorize either way?

Please check the book again during Act 5! This applies to most items/map events by the way, like the pendant. You can check those during Act 5 and 6 for some fun new dialogue!

✨ Why are Siffrin's clothes so warm looking?

The Country got cold at night.

✨ What's up with Siffrin's pins?

They're made out of a special material. And also, they make Siffrin look cool <3

✨ I want to know the story behind Loop’s different eye shades!

They're blind in one eye. Also, fun foreshadowing <3

✨ What determines whether someone is paper/rock/scissors craft? Is it assigned naturally at birth or something else (and how do you find out)? Does it make you more inclined to use that specific craft or is anyone generally free to use whatever craft they want?

Astrology rules, It Just Is A Thing. Being Rock Type means it is way easier for you to do Rock Craft, but that doesn't mean you can't learn other types of craft, although it's way harder. Doing Craft of your type is instinct, doing Craft of another type would take some time and resarch.

✨What crimes has Odile committed before. I need to know.

Odile just smiles.

✨ Why did the King specifically target the House of Dormont?

I had a reason in mind, but adding it to the game would've added a layer of Explanation that really didn't need to be there. It's just a nice House.

✨ Who was Odile's hatecrush...

Dunno. It's your turn.

✨ What is loop's body situation. like is the surface of their "skin" solid? they did poke siffrin that one time, and we know they aren't cold, but...

I have some idea. But it's your turn!

✨ Would Sif still have looped if they hadn't made the wish he made in the beginning? As in, would Vaugarde's combined wish have made him loop until managing to beat the King?

No. But without time powers, you can imagine what would've happened next.

✨ During the Loop Hangout, how did the rest of the team make it all the way to The King? What about during Act 5?

During the Loop Hangout: with difficulty. During Act 5: Loop was there to guide them.

✨ Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they'd like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :(

Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.

✨ Who cooked crab in the House of Change???

This is a very funny question! I've never thought about it. It's your turn.

✨ What are the Orbs that open the gate? Did the King create the Gate or was it there before?

(did not think about the orbs or the gate beyond "plot that proves there was a journey before") Stop Asking Questions,,,, It's your turn,,,,,,

✨ Bonnie's dialogue is *extremely* accurate to how overexcited kids talk, which is really rare to see. Was that something that took a lot of effort to achieve, or did it come naturally to you?

Thank you <3 I'm just that good. Really, Bonnie is an adult with no filter, and less general knowledge. I'm very glad I managed to write Bonnie well, especially since. I haven't talked to a kid. Since I was one myself

✨ The Spoilery Concept Art. Blease

oh yeah. here have it all. this is what I gave Mimi to do the animated trailer!

✨ So. What's everyone's favorite shade.

FINALLY the question. Plus I can say shade names now. White = darkless, Black = lightless. Light and Dark is like light grey/ dark grey. Oh my god I'm checking my notes and I wrote a small event I never used about hair dye colors like "midnight dark", "tomato grey", "snow light" past me that's so fucking funny

Anyway, Siffrin loves darkless, Mirabelle is more of a light shade lover, Isabeau loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS FASHIONABLE OK), Odile likes darker shades, and Bonnie also loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS AS DARK AS MY SOUL OK)

✨ Are there any bugs you found during developments that you've made into features?

Two! The first one was the ability to ask Loop to just silently hang out during Act 4. I messed up the code and the game softlocked there, with Siffrin and Loop sitting there silently. I thought it was very sweet. They deserve a little quiet time.

The second was in Act 5 - the House map had a lot of issues with the Act 5 map bringing you back to the normal House map. So one of the testers got brought to the normal House map and didn't notice, and interacted with the Mirror on Floor 3, and it gave them the normal interaction with everyone seeing the mirror and taking a picture, and when they went to look at the picture in their inventory, it gave them the actual Act 5 picture. A little bit after they realized the game bugged out, and told me about it, and begged me to keep that in because they were very unsettled by it. So here it is! Beforehand, it was just Siffrin silently taking a picture, so I'm glad I changed it.

✨ Did you ever have emotional difficulty writing the more sensitive parts of the script, like Siffrin’s intrusive/negative thoughts, for one reason or another? Moreover, did you worry the script may be darker than your initial vision for it anticipated?

Not really. The Mirabelle and Odile hangout scenes were the hardest scenes by far because I really wanted to get them right, but everything else was about the same amount of difficulty. And actually, I wanted to go a little bit darker for the script, but I was worried it was going to be too dark... When it comes to the dagger event, I had a whole tangent about Siffrin thinking about the best way to strike, so to speak, but I deleted it because it was getting A Little Too Detailed. T rating come back to me

✨ For the questions you WON'T answer, did you have your own answers while making the game? Or were they left blank?

Some of them I do, some of them I don't!

✨ I loved this game and I want to replay it but I don't want Siffrin to go through everything again!

Here's a little fun fact I decided: if you hit the credits, you helped a Siffrin escape. If you start a new game, you are creating a new Siffrin that you can emotionally tortu-IIIIIIII MEAN, a new Siffrin that you can help. Do not worry about your Siffrins they are fine

✨ A lot of those answers ended up being "It's your turn", huh.

Yea <3 The answers to some of those questions ARE there if you look. Some just aren't. But you can imagine whatever you want. It's your turn! I finished the game! I'm done working! It's your turn!!!

✨ I loved ISAT and it made me feel so many feelings!

Thank you so much. I'm sorry if you sent a message or ask and I didn't answer it. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you for playing and thank you for writing me a message!!!!! When I get a little down I look at all of those and I feel better. Thank you. I'm sorry I can't answer them all.

✨ What will you work on next?

I have a project I'm currently in the preproduction stages of. I don't want to talk about it until I feel like I have some stuff to show. Plus I still have to make the ISAT artbook and some other stuff, so it won't be for a while. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it!!!

[cameronspecial]

You Are Our Perfect Boy, Baby

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Difficulties With Getting Pregnant

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Trying to give Asher a younger sibling is proving harder than they thought it would and Y/N can't hold on to hope anymore.

Masterlist

Rafe never thought he would want children, yet when Y/N came along, he knew that he couldn’t imagine a life without them. They would be the perfect representation of his and Y/N's love and they would help grow that love into something even better. When Asher hit four years old, the spouses thought that it was time to make their family grow. However, trying to conceive a child the second time around is proving to be harder than when they created Asher. It’s been two years and no luck seems to be in sight for the couple. Rafe can see how the lack of success is affecting his angel. She no longer holds any excitement or hope while taking a pregnancy test. She will pee on the stick and leave it on the bathroom sink as soon as she is done, not bothering to wait by it anymore. Rafe wants to do anything to make her feel better, but what can he do if she refuses to go to a fertility clinic with him? He doesn’t blame her for not wanting to go. He knows that any answer they get can just lead to one of them feeling incredibly guilty. They’ve always talked about foster children, except that was only after they had one more child biologically. Because as selfish as it was, they wanted at least one stable sibling for Asher to have while growing up before they opened his world up to siblings, who could come and go. Sure, they could always adopt the children, but the parents recognize the fact that some children in the foster system are there until their permanent home is made stable again and that is the main reason why the pair wanted to foster. To give the children in waiting a safe place to be while their parents either find a stable home or try to find a sober path. 

The lack of being able to conceive again makes Y/N question whether the universe has more children in mind for them. It makes her think that she doesn’t deserve more kids, so even fostering or adoption is off the table. In all honesty, she just doesn’t know if she can deal with even the slightest possibility of rejection by those systems. This test in her hand is the last chance she is giving them to have the future they planned for them. She is exhausted by the disappointment and can’t deal with it anymore. Rafe pleads with the universe to be on their side for once in this process. The timer goes off and both of them hold their breath as they look at the result. Negative. Tears stream down her face at what she sees. Rafe tries to pull her into a hug to comfort her, but she shrugs off his hold and throws the test in the garbage can. 

She walks out of their bathroom and heads to the kitchen. Asher is on the couch watching TV. His eyes flicker to his mother and he spots the salty droplets rolling down her face. He abandons the TV show and runs to hug her. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” he worries, snuggling his face into her leg. She smiles down at him and picks him up in her arms. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, “Mommy is okay. She just found out some bad news today.” “Oh, what happened?” he asks for clarification. She hears Rafe’s footsteps approach and he stands at the entrance of the hallway, watching the scene from a distance to give her space. Her eyes lock with his and they make a silent agreement over what to say. They agree to tell him the truth. They believe that if they want Asher to be emotionally intelligent, then they have to be open about how and why they feel a certain way. “Well, you know how you’ve been asking for a little brother or sister,” she starts. He nods. “Mommy and Daddy found out that we can’t have one and it makes Mommy sad because we really wanted to have one and we know how much you did too.” Asher snuggles his face into her neck, “It’s okay, Mommy. I know you tried your hardest to give me one. It’s like you said, you tried your hardest and that is what counts.” Asher notices his father in the hallway and beckons him over. Rafe approaches his son. “Daddy, can you help me make Mommy tea please?” 

Y/N lets out a sob, covering her mouth to try to hide it. Her son’s words fill her with warmth and a sense of pride. She and Rafe are raising Asher to be a fine young man. She can’t believe that through this whole process, she forgot how great the child she already has is. “You are too sweet. Mommy and Daddy are so glad to have you because you are our perfect boy, Baby,” she praises, pressing another kiss on his cheek. Although raising another baby may not be in their cards, Y/N is so grateful that she still gets to be the mother of an amazing little boy. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[kneelingshadowsalome]

the post about konig and tatoos got me thinking how would he react with his girl doing a full body waxing, since someone else needs to literally see all her body and """touch""" her to do that, and imagine if it's a man 😭

Just imagine König marching to the beauty salon (people are screaming) then simply barging in to the room where this guy trying to give you a wax oh my God 🥲

Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. König won't let you do whatever you want – not without checking the details first. Also: no male gynecologists. Like, none, EVER. (Lol what's wrong with this guy)

But....

now I'm thinking about König's reaction when you come home after a full body wax 👀 done by some innocent woman of course, someone who's a professional & would never have nasty thoughts and intentions towards you 💕

CW: Cunnilingus, edging, overall shameless behavior 18+

König is so, so curious. Of course he wants to inspect you!

He likes his women soft, but let's be honest: this man is happy with whatever you give him. He adores you and worships your body, waxed or not. He would never force you into such a thing (actually, he'd be happiest if you never left home...)

But now that you're suddenly even softer than usual – wait, you're silky smooth all over?? König just can't stop running his hands over your thighs, he can't stop staring at what's between your legs. Actually, he's admiring the view like it's the first time he's laid eyes on a woman.

And yep. He simply has to have a taste.

Long, savoured licks and starved moans ensue as he goes down to enjoy your silk. Better grab something sturdy to hold on to (yeah, why not him?) because this dude is not leaving his favorite place in a while. He will edge and edge and edge you until you cry and beg, because he loves seeing you like this: spread wide open, sweet and bare and so wet that the audible evidence of his treatment is downright sloppy.

Usually, he's a bit more rough, the constant high libido of this man making the sex a sweaty, needy business. But now... Now, he takes his sweet time. He's a different man, sampling you like you're the best cuisine he's ever tried.

You can trash on the bed, you can try to tug at his hair when he drives you to the edge but not over it. You can cry and whine and sob but he's not going to budge. Just when you open your mouth and say you're about to lose your mind, König gives you a sudden, straightforward compliment.

"I like this," he sighs on your pussy with his hand down his pants. And you shouldn't be surprised that he's stroking himself while lapping you. Guy hasn't even bothered to take his cock out – apparently, he's perfectly happy with the prospect of cumming inside his camos like the filthy dog that he is.

"So soft," he gives you another starved lick, "and wet…"

"König... Mh, I can't take it anymore," you moan and gasp on the sheets, your voice so needy and pathetic it could easily be mistaken for a sob.

"No? But I can," he rasps and continues the torment.

You're starting to think that the waxing was a terrible mistake. He's being mean, and for what? Just because you happen to look nice and feel soft.

Actually, König is the meanest man you know, always teasing and torturing you, always making your life hard and your pussy wet. The worst thing is that you can feel the stupid grin spreading on his lips.

"Look at you, little one... Am I being too mean?" He asks as if he can read minds as well. You don't know if the compassion in his voice is real or feigned, but he won't let you linger on that thought for too long. No: your attention falls back to the hot, determined mouth making love to you. His lips seal around your clit, and give you another soft, ample suck.

"Fu–ck," you whisper helplessly in the air.

A mistake... A big mistake.

König stops, now genuinely shocked.

"Such filth from my angel's mouth... Where have you learned words like that?"

"König, don't be ridicu—"

"I can't let you cum yet."

His declaration makes you want to scream. But you know better than that... There's nothing you can do but try to suppress the tears as he goes down on you once more, ensuring you get some more but never enough. You promise him you will never swear again, you babble and plead, but it's no use. König makes you promise it twice. Thrice.

By the time he finally does end your torture, your whole body is a quivering, overstimulated mess. You cum, wave after wave, riding on his tongue like there's nothing else in this world. You're pretty sure some of your brain cells have died during his treatment.

Yes, the waxing was either a terrible mistake or the most brilliant idea you've ever had... You can't really decide in your state of brainless euphoria. What you do know, however, is that König is a huge hypocrite: he always has to ruin the things he views as sweet and innocent and pretty. You're a mess, but not mess enough for him.

He cums on your poor, bare pussy with a few anxious faps – you can do nothing but lie there like a helpless maiden as the hot load lands on your soft skin and trickles over your sensitive clit.

It's downright laughable how he gathers you in his arms after such a shameless, greedy session. He even has the audacity to coo loving nonsense in your ear. He does all kinds of sweet things except clean you up.

When you whine about it, he says he will give his "sweet angel" a wash soon – no doubt wanting to carry you to the bathroom, bridal style, like the perfect gentleman.

[radiance1]

Hey ya'll back on my bullshit again!

So this time if this idea doesn't get outta control it'll mostly be focusing on Danny and Bruce!!!

Danny is gonna be younger here by the by, maybe like 10.

So after being accidently hit by on of his parents inventions, big ol' Danny-o sometimes gets these dreams about some random ass old man. He doesn't know who he is, nor why this is happening, but he mostly just goes along with it.

Most of the time they just spend the time there in silence, not really doing anything and just existing around each other until one day Danny let slip that he fights people on the regular.

Most of them being other people in a dream, who he assumes are ghosts. He manages to hold his own decently well, even without powers of his own.

Plus, he can even take his parents stuff into the dreams!

Sure he sometimes loses, but that's really not the point here.

but the man does not like it.

Danny doesn't get it, considering he can kick ass, take names, and it is just a dream after all.

So imagine his surprise when that old man, who he's known for a while and dare he say can perhaps even be called a friend, takes a fighting stance and tells him to come at him.

He asked if the guy was sure, the guy nodded, he told him not to regret anything when he gets his ass handed to him, the guy said nothing and motioned for him to attack and Danny went for it.

Not even a few moments later and he's insanely embarrassed he got his ass handed to him. Like, it was over before he even began and Danny didn't even know what happened.

So of course, being who he is and knowing this guy for a while. He very obviously asks the guy to teach him his ways and he must be insanely charming because the guy didn't even hesitate to say yes!

It was like, a few more dreams in that he finally asked for the guy's name. He said his name was Bruce, and that he was traveling the world and learning every martial art currently still existing.

Danny instantly grew to like him more after that. Sure, his mom's a blackbelt, and sure she taught him to kick major ass before she got dragged into her inventions, and sure she doesn't train with him or spend time with him anymore because of that-

Wait he's rambling.

Anyways.

So the guy asked him if he was taught martial arts, since he does have a pretty solid foundation. Danny said yes and then talked about his mom, because anytime to gush about how much of a badass she is, is one he's gonna take.

Somewhere along that rant it turned into a rant about his parents, and then their inventions, and then it turned into his sister and then it turned towards the ghosts he fights and how he beats them up really well and how his parents inventions really helps and then it turned towards that one time he got hit by one of his parents inventions which is why all these people appear in these dreams-

Bruce motions for him to stop, and then asks what Danny means by being hit by one of his parents inventions.

Danny stops, then gets real sheepish about it. Because really, it was kinda technically his fault that he got hit since he did sneak into his parents lab while they were out and accidently messed with something unfinished.

Bruce asked how Danny got into their lab. To which Danny said pretty easily since he already cracked the passcode for their 'secret' lab, and yea sure they didn't know that and sure he shouldn't really be in there in the first place without them knowing, but it's not like they know where he is most of the time.

Then Danny gets frustrated and say that they changed the passcode, so now he has to crack it again and he can't ask Jazz for help since she's too busy with school, but it's not like he really needs her help because he's plenty smart on his own but it would be nice-

Bruce doesn't say anything while Danny takes the conversation to an entirely different place than it started. His face only growing dark, as he quietly listened to Danny now going on about how to not fight a living jelly because they are vicious.

Which is another cause for concern, frankly.

Bruce has noticed that Danny has a tendency to just. Ramble about random things for hours if he isn't stopped, and is extremely surprised when Bruce actually listened whenever he stopped to take a breath.

He does wonder who exactly this boy's parents are however.

So then this keeps going on for a while, with Danny and Bruce either training martial arts or just talking (more so Danny rambling on about his day or anything really and Bruce just listening and commenting here or there.) and existing.

Then when Danny turned 11 he tells Bruce about how his parents got this huuuuuge mysterious donation that let them buy parts to make this super-mega-awesome invention of theirs that's supposed to be some kind of portal or something.

Which Danny is a bit jealous over because his parents are spending less and less time out of their lab, but that's besides the point.

Sometimes he also shows Bruce blueprints on things his parents worked on and then left unfinished because they lost interest in it or just don't see how they can work it out.

And Bruce, being the super-mega-awesome-nice friend he is, looked them over and then tweaked them a bit here and there and then they just worked!

(Also yes, he did indeed crack his parents code again and stole some of their parts to make said inventions but hey what they don't know won't hurt them and plus he can take it into his dreams.)

Some very, very rare times, Danny showed Bruce some of his own blueprints that he tried to make. Because if he showed an interest in inventions then maybe, just, maybe he'll be able to spend more time with his parents.

But anyways.

He showed them to Bruce, and they kinda just sat there figuring out how to make Danny's dreams become a reality. Then over time Danny just, sorta stopped showing his parents blueprints and more of his own.

They still trained of course, but it was really cool to just, tell someone his ideas and for them to actually listen.

And sure, he could tell his mom and dad but they have the attention span of a goldfish when it isn't anything ghost related (no hate indented but it's just facts.) and Jazz is really busy with her own life too and also a bit... smothery.

And he didn't really have any other friends since no one really wants to take to the child of the resident ghost hunters. There is those two friends he knows online, but he doesn't wanna ruin anything by just showing blueprints.

So telling Bruce was something he took readily too after he reacted well the first time he showed him his first blueprint. Hell, it didn't even need to be a blueprint for a weapon, it could be anything and Bruce would still find a way to help him.

Eventually it shifted from Blueprints of weapons and household items, to ones of spaceships and stuff meant to mimic the stars. Then conversation shifted from everyday stuff to space and it's many wonders and how cool it is.

Danny talked, and Bruce listened.

Bruce trained him, and so Danny fought.

Danny trusted an adult for once in his life, and Bruce gave him every reason to trust him.

Bruce helped Danny with his ideas, and in turn Danny gave him a distraction from most of the pain and worry of what's happening in Gotham until he can go back and help.

Danny found a place he can just let go in, and Bruce allowed him that space.

Which made it oh so terrible whenever he lost everything.

Well, not everything. But it sure felt that way to Danny.

It was when he turned 12, telling his friends online about how his parents completed this craaaaazy new invention that apparently should open a portal to, somewhere he isn't sure.

One of his friends told him he should totally go check it out and tell them if it works or not. It didn't really take much convincing since he also wanted to check it out too.

The pain was overwhelming.

Feeling his body be defiled by electricity and then slowly disintegrate while he could still feel everything and then not feeling anything from his limbs after and yet still being alive and then suddenly feeling again after he couldn't was so overwhelming and the pain was still there and-

Nobody was in the house at the time, his parents out for the day and Jazz hanging out with her friends. So no one could hear him scream.

Then there he was, in the air trying to remember how to breathe only to realize he wasn't breathing-

Then he dropped to the ground and found he could breathe as air forced itself into his lungs until he started feeling light headed and passed out.

Later when woke up he told his friends that it never worked, and stayed away from it for awhile.

Later when he was asleep he didn't see Bruce anywhere, nor any of those ghosts he fights at all.

He didn't think much of it, maybe Bruce just wasn't sleeping.

He thought the same when a few days past by and still no signs of Bruce.

He distracted himself with fighting the ghosts from his dreams that came from his parents portal that he forces back to the zone.

A single day multiplied as it turned to a week, and then that week turned into weeks and then a month and then that month turned into months-

-And he hasn't seen Bruce in so long that he just doesn't get why he couldn't find him. He searched his dreams, not seeing hide nor hair of Bruce and spent his days awake fighting ghosts since his parents homeschool him even though they spend most of their time in their lab and it's him who homeschools himself and sometimes he has to run from his parents because they also attack and hunt him-

But it doesn't matter.

He kept searching for Bruce until he couldn't. He kept searching past when he couldn't.

Sometimes he couldn't help those few thoughts that creep into his brain whenever he stares up at the ceiling and can't sleep.

That maybe Bruce finally got tired of him and that he doesn't care about him anymore and stopped wishing to meet him and abandoned him for another child who isn't like him and can actually be normal and isn't a freak who can't do anything right.

Sometimes Danny lets himself stew in those thoughts.

Danny doesn't like thinking about them that much.

Bruce will be back. He just has to wait. Friends wait for their friends and besides he already has two other friends and yea he can't meet up with them in person but still.

It was when he encountered this one ghost while going past the boundaries of his own dream in search of his Friend that he was told that Bruce wasn't ever going to come to his dream, that he can't come back to his dream anymore.

Now, Danny is smart. Maybe not as smart as his parents or Jazz, but he has something in his brain and he knows that what this ghost is saying is probably true and that he should just accept but-

He just can't.

He doesn't want to.

Bruce couldn't have abandoned him. He's probably still looking for him right now in his own dream and Danny would be such a bad friend if he didn't continue looking.

But then he was told that Bruce wasn't looking for him, because this Bruce person never existed in the first place.

Danny didn't want to believe it. He couldn't.

Bruce wasn't a figment of his imagination.

He just couldn't be.

Bruce was his friend. He's his friend and he was real.

So obviously this ghost is lying.

Until he found out that he wasn't because this ghost knows the dreams of every person on the planet and the Bruce that he knows was never one of them and Danny.

Danny couldn't take that.

This ghost was lying. he just had to be. Bruce is his friend and he's real and he's been with him for so long and he couldn't help him if he wasn't real and everything they've done together was real.

Bruce was real.

Bruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was realBruce was real

He woke up.

He didn't move. Didn't do anything. He just stared up at the ceiling of his room while light shined from beyond his curtains and he should be getting up but he just can't and then it got dark and little stars and planets and blackholes and supernova's played across his ceiling and it was the first thing he and Bruce made together and-

He started crying. He couldn't even sob. He just laid there, watching his pride and joy dance across the ceiling of his room for minutes and then hours.

When the first ray of sunrise tried to peek throw his window was when he finally managed to drag himself out of bed. He took the invention and one of his parent's bat, went to the back of the house and hit it again and again until he felt better.

He didn't feel better.

He did the same to everything else he and Bruce made.

Nothing ever made him feel better.

So instead, he threw himself into fighting all the ghosts that came through the portal. Every fight marked victory, and victory meant injuries because that's just how things worked.

Victories used to give him joy. Because he could go back to Bruce and tell him everything about it and get praised for it.

Now he can't.

He can't tell his parents. He can't tell his sister. He can't tell anyone.

Nobody cares about him anymore, and that's just sometime he has to accept now.

[astridthevalkyrie]

hello :] i hope you're okay!!! i stumbled upon your masterpiece about the thin floor between xavier's unit and mc's unit and all was fine and dandy until i saw rafayel's name and i would like to present you with a little thought that came upon me after i read it:

rafayel knows about the thin ass floor and he knows xavier does his little friday routine (he heard the noises the first time it happened and later connected 2+2 when it happened again). i can imagine raf's first reaction would be possessive as fuck like, hoW DARE HE?!?!?!?!?!? but after that the little shit inside him comes out and decides it's chaos time and now he's out to essentially torture xavier by making mc squeal/moan/whine/whimper as loud as possible, specially raf's name, to kind of taunt xavier with the knowledge that is another man with mc doing what he wants to do but can't. and rafa also starts counterattacking the blackouts xavier causes to the point it becomes almost comical the ways xavier goes to cockblock them and how rafayel evades them, all the while mc's oblivious as ever living her best life getting railed at complete random moments all over her unit, because now raf's out for blood (and by blood i mean by rubbing their relationship at xavier's face any given moment). 🤌🏻

this is so hot LMAO

it's a wonder mc hasn't caught on yet. between how rafayel is always insistent they go to her place instead of his very lavish mansion and how xavier knocks on the door loudly at 10:46 PM at night while rafayel's balls deep inside her just to ask if she has extra red pepper because he ran out.

the blackouts are so frequent that she hardly even flinches anymore, and besides, rafayel's just taken to making sure there's a candle on her bedside that he lights with a snarl without even slowing down inside her.

xavier comes by in the mornings too, always makes a point of noting how exhausted mc looks and giving her a glass of water or offering to make breakfast which is obviously an affront to raf who can provide adequate aftercare on his own, thanks very much.

but honestly? seeing two guys argue over making her breakfast every saturday morning isn't a terrible routine. mc kicks back on the couch to relax and lets them do their thing (she might be in on this little game too, but she'll just keep quiet about it for now <3)

[spinchip]

Zane peeks over Dot’s shoulder where she’s curled up on the couch reading a book. “What are you reading?”

It’s a testament to how normalized being haunted is for her when she doesn’t even flinch. She glances over at him before dog-earing the page and putting her book down. She glances around the room to make sure no one is within ear-shot, “Romance book. Princess is kidnapped, a knight goes to save her, the wizard who kidnapped her falls in love with her- Oh, the Knight is also in love with her. Classic love triangle.” She shrugs before pinning him with a playfully pointed glare, “Nice of you to show up. It was my turn to make dinner tonight y'know, And everyone is always raving about your cooking. I could have used your help!”

He has the good graces to look apologetic, “How long have I been gone for this time?” he asks.

“Just one day.” she reassures him, “Not too long.”

“Ah, good.” He murmurs.

“Hey, you’ve never told me- where do you go?” Tilting her head, she clarifies, “Like when you vanish for days at a time. Where do you disappear off to?”

He feigns sitting on the arm of the couch. He can’t actually interact with the physical world in any way, but it makes him feel more grounded to pretend, “I do not know.” He admits, “Someplace dark and quiet… similar to the space between dreams.”

“So it’s like you're sleeping?”

“Not quite. I can still sleep, like during the times when you need your privacy. That is different from this.” he thinks on it for a moment, “I can sleep in that place, too. So I am awake when I am pulled there.”

She makes a humming noise, “Do you think it’s a place in Ninjago?”

“It is a possibility.” he frowns, “I cannot be sure.”

She worries her fingers over the edge of the knee joint on her prosthetic, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep everything a secret from the others?”

She watches him deflate a little, his whole body slumping in a soul-deep sadness, “I do not want to keep this from the others, but it is necessary. These black out episodes are proof of that… I am not stable. Whatever is keeping me here may not be permanent, and from our research so far there is no way to bring me back. Telling the others may just be giving them false hope.”

“Yeah…” she sighs, “If I told them you were still around and then you vanished for good, it'd be like you died all over again.”

“That is one way to put it.” He smiles grimly.

There’s a pause, “It’s hard for me too.” She admits softly. “I mean, not so much now because I’m used to you going MIA… but you were gone for a whole week once, and I was afraid you were gone. What if I can't find a way to bring you back before you’re stuck in that place forever?”

“Dot,” He says gently, placing a hand on top of her own. There’s no sensation on her skin, it’s like he’s not even touching her at all, “I chose this when I destroyed the overlord. Whatever happens is not your fault. I am at peace with my actions.” He reassures her.

“I just… can’t imagine life without you anymore, y’know?”

“I would miss you too.” He pats her hand just to do it, “I believe we will find an answer, and if we do not then that is just how it was meant to be. You will have ice… even if my presence is gone, I will always be with you.”

“You’re a big sap when you want to be.” She sniffs, rubbing at her eye.

“I am actually a regular sized robot.” he informs her with a snarks grin.

She shakes her head, “A regular sized robot who is not funny.”

“Of course not. I have not turned on my funny switch.”

“Your what?”

[blindmagdalena]

a prayer in perfect piety (homelander x plus-size reader)

originally written as this prompt here. 18+. 5.2k, f!reader, body image, smut. see AO3 Link for detailed tags.

Homelander invites you, his girlfriend, to your first public event as a couple. He's over the moon to show you off to the world, dressed to the nines and utterly smitten with one another. At some point, he loses track of you in the crowd. Confused, he goes looking for you, only to find you crying your eyes out in a bathroom on an entirely different floor.

Someone hurt you, and he's going to put them in their place.

Tonight's gala is a significant one. Not only does Homelander have about a dozen deals to grease with a firm handshake and some oily promises, it's your first time attending one of these events at his side.

He couldn't be prouder.

You took his breath away in your formal wear; a sight to behold that had him clapping his delight. "You're gonna knock them dead," he whispered in your ear, savoring the flustered, breathy way you laughed. Strange now that when he looks for you, Homelander doesn't see you on the event floor. You had gone to get drinks while he spoke with this senator—who has officially lost any and all of his interest in the wake of your disappearance—but you've been gone too long. Like an itch at the back of his neck, something doesn't feel right.

"Ah, apologies, senator, I seem to have misplaced my date," he says, flashing his best award winning smile. "Gimme a minute to find her. Make sure she hasn't gotten herself into any trouble," he says, throwing in a wink for good measure. His pleasant expression falls off as soon as his back is turned to the boring little man. When Homelander doesn't find you on the event floor, he steps out. He listens for you, filtering out the music, the chatter, the noise of the world. He seeks what is familiar to him, what he would know from a meter or a mile away, and what he hears puts a lump of ice into his gut. You're crying . Homelander moves swiftly down the hall, finding the women's bathroom in a heartbeat. You've gone far from the  event floor, bypassing the nearer bathroom to use one further away. You're hiding, he realizes, but he can't fathom what from. He moves faster, imagining that you're hurt, that someone has you, that— "Babe?!" Homelander calls sharply, slamming open the door. He doesn't mean to scare you, but he can see in your expression that he did. Your eyes are wide and red, tears trailing black mascara down your cheeks. You stand with your hand lingering on the bathroom sink, and as the shock fades, your expression falters. He's never seen you look so... sad. It twists in him like a hot knife, the discomfort he feels at it turning immediately into rage. Anger comes quickly and easily to him. His voice is low when he demands, "Tell me what happened." "It's nothing," you try to dismiss, picking up the tissues you dropped on the floor to toss them into the garbage. "I just got overwhelmed at the party." "You're crying in a bathroom a floor down from the event, it is categorically not nothing," he argues, taking hold of your arms once he's near enough. He pulls you into him, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face. Thanks to plenty of experience with makeup in film and television, he knows better than to smear the blackened tears on your cheeks, though the impulse to wipe them away is there. "C'mon. Tell me." You lean into him as you always do. He is a pillar, just as you have been for him. He can't stand seeing you like this. "I don't belong here. I don't... talk, or dress, or look like these people. They're all..." You lift your hands, gesturing vaguely. Your voice sounds hoarse. He can't bear the sadness in it. "Perfect." "You have to be kidding me," Homelander says, his disbelief genuine. "The gaggle of sycophants and suits back there? They're insipid. Boring as all hell. I can't even tolerate being in the same room as them without you anymore," he says, huffing a laugh in an attempt to ease your mood. Anything to bring back your smile. "Seriously, what brought this on? You've never given a shit about all that pomp before." Your gaze drops. He knows you're hiding something from him. "Hey, c'mon," he coos, using the knuckle of his index finger to tilt your chin back up. "Tell me, and I will make it better." One way or another. With visible reluctance, you take a breath. "I... went to get a drink, like I said," you begin, fidgeting with the zipper on his glove. "When a group of people kind of cornered me at the bar. They seemed nice at first, they were asking questions about me, about us, which I know you said to expect, but then..."

Your eyes prickle, he can see fresh tears well up as you speak. Homelander slips a hand to your back, rubbing it, his brow furrowed. Sounds like someone's going to die. "One of them commented on my dress, she said that... Vought must not be used to dressing women my size," you say, voice falling quieter with every word. New tears fall. Homelander's jaw tenses. He looks away from you, blinking back that familiar crimson burn.

"They all started laughing, and I just wanted to disappear," you say, a tight little sob escaping your throat as Homelander pulls you in against his chest, rubbing your back. "I'm sorry I didn't-"

"No," Homelander interrupts, his anger making the word sound harsher than he intended. "No," he says again, correcting himself to be gentler. This rage isn't for you, after all. "No apologies. Let's get you cleaned up, alright? Get back out there."

Someone is definitely going to die.

You tense up, pushing back from his arms to look up at him. "Please, I'd really like to just go home."

"We will," he assures you, smoothing his hands up and down your arms. "Soon. I want you to show me the group who spoke to you."

"I don't want to cause a scene," you plead, flattening your hands to his chest. "They're not worth it."

"No, they're not. But you are," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. He holds you firm until he feels you begin to melt, yielding to the warmth of him. “Let me make this better.”

By the time he draws back, you look sufficiently pliant. "Okay," you say quietly. He bites back a predatory smirk. "Nothing too dramatic, please?" You plea, leveling him with an attempt at a firm look, despite your big watery eyes. He’s never been less intimidated in his life, and never more endeared.

"Me? Dramatic?" He asks, feigning outrage.

"I mean it," you stress, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

There it is, Homelander thinks. There is not a single heinous thing he would not do to see you smile. "Relax," he purrs. "I'll handle this."

When the two of you return to the event floor, it only takes you a moment to point out the offending group. With an arm wrapped securely around your waist, Homelander brazenly guides you to them. He feels you squeeze his hand  anxiously, but he isn't the least bit deterred. "Heyyy, what's up!" Homelander greets boisterously, bulldozing into their conversation with the friendliest of tone. Only you are wise enough to recognize the venom dripping from the corners of his mouth. His canines glint sharply in the light, eager for a bloody meal. The air is strange, a mixture of drunken excitement and surprised nervousness. It's not every day Homelander himself steps into your conversation. A few of them look at you before they exchange  glances, but clearly enough alcohol has been imbibed that they're feeling brave. They don't see the danger they're in.

Homelander runs his tongue along his teeth. Clueless fucking idiots."Homelander, oh my god! I was hoping to run into you," one of the women announces. He can smell the liquor on her breath when she leans in, putting a bold hand on his arm opposite to the one he holds you with. "I'm such a fan, you have no idea. I've seen every one of your movies," she says, flushed giddy. "Always great to meet such a dedicated fan," he says, lying through his teeth. A glance through the material of her bag gives him exactly what he needs; her Vought security badge. She works in communications. "Kathleen, right? In Communications," he says, pointing a finger at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he's just now recalling this information.

"Oh, I-wow, yes! I can't believe you know who I am," she says, glancing back at her companions. "I try to know everyone I work with," he lies smoothly, subtly shrugging her hand off of his shoulder, placing his hand on his hip. Not all of them work for Vought, but all of them have their ID on them. A quick flit of his super powered vision between them is all it takes for him to know each and every one of their names. Homelander cocks his head to the side, giving her a once over. Her dress is richly patterned, a myriad of black, white and red. The belt bears a familiar double C logo.

“Wow, Kathleen, look at you. Chanel, huh? Oh, wait…,” he stops himself, leaning forward to take a better look at the details of the dress. He clicks his tongue, standing straight. “Nooope, I misspoke. Chanel doesn’t bleed. Not a bad knock-off, though,” he says with a brief downturn of his lips, shrugging. Immediately, all eyes fall on Kathleen. There are a couple of stifled giggles and some childish oohh's . The man to her left, seeming eager to play along with Homelander’s little game of Mean Girls, readily chimes in, “Busted.” “I’d be quiet if I were you, Chuck,” Homelander says, rounding on the man so sharply, his laughter falls immediately silent. The shock on his face is understandable. He doesn't work for Vought. Homelander has no right to know his name.  “I can smell the red paint on the bottom of those misshapen Johnston & Murphy’s you’re trying to pass off as Louis Vuitton. Now that’s embarrassing.” This time, no one’s laughing. There’s no mirth left in Homelander’s voice, and they've all finally realized it. His gaze is drifting from one potential prey to the next, his mouth set in an unyielding line. He lifts his brows, waiting for them to continue their jeering. “What? No one has anything to say to that? How about you, Jason?” He asks, startling one of the other men. “Why don’t we talk about those fucking ugly veneers of yours? I mean, god damn . I’ve never seen a more square smile in my life. It’s like staring at white slatwall every time you open your mouth.” Homelander begins to laugh. The sound of it is thorned, vicious to behold. “Aww, c’mon, don’t be so fucking sensitive . You wanted to have a laugh at my girl, right? Let’s laugh, then,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to snap his fingers impatiently, demanding, “Laugh!” Like a bark from an obedient dog, a single man amidst the group forces a stilted laugh.

Homelander hones in on him with the precision of a heat seeking missile, dropping his hand. Deadpan, he asks, “Something funny, Jim?”

Jim audibly gulps. “Y-you said-”

"Y'see, that's your problem. You're all just a bunch of fucking sheep, so desperate to be seen as somebody, you end up being no one at all. If you put half the effort you put into kissing ass into a personality, you might be a fraction as interesting as she is," he says, gesturing to you with the hand he doesn't have holding you close. "But instead you prop yourselves up on all this..." Homelander spins his hand loosely through the air before sighing, "Bullshit. It's boring. You're all so fucking boring and miserable with yourselves. You reek of it," he says, lip twitching in a near snarl. "Go. Get the fuck out of my tower,” he rumbles, voice set low. “All of you. Before I throw you off the balcony myself.” There's a pregnant pause before Homelander snaps, "Now!" Like roaches, all of them scatter. Homelander watches them with a sneer. He would have preferred literally tearing them apart, but it's neither the time nor the place.

"Holy shit," you whisper.

Homelander hums quietly, turning to look down at you. Before he can say a word, you grab hold of the back of his neck and kiss him senseless. He grins against your lips, turning to pull you properly into his arms. His ego swells immediately, the kiss speaking volumes. You're pleased. Pleased with him. He greedily soaks up the feeling of your body against his, lips moving against yours, eager to chase away the salty smell of your tears with something a little more salacious.

The two of you break apart before the kiss becomes any more scandalous than it already is, the buzz of the crowd around you dulled by the fervency pulsing between your bodies. "That was... the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me," you whisper, your heart beating heavily in your chest. "Hottest thing so far ,” he says, smiling wolfishly. He gives your plush hips a squeeze, licking his lips. ”Because this dress on your body has been driving me wild . All. Night. Long," he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. “And I cannot wait to tear it off you.” You bite your lip, inhaling a sharp, flustered little breath. "Can we get out of here yet?"

"You're damn right we can," he says, kissing you again.

Homelander slips away from the venue without an ounce of fanfare, half because you’re so eager to be home, and half because he knows Stan Edgar will be pissed that he took off without shaking the hand of every single political figure the man wants a finger in the pie of.

Fuck Stan Edgar, and especially fuck every one of the brownnosing nobodies invited to that sycophantic cesspit.

The only person in the world he cares about right now is you. ~~~ He wasn’t kidding about the dress. The second he has you back in his room, he’s pushing it off your shoulders, trailing kisses from your neck to your chest. He drags the fabric down until it’s pooling around your waist. You gasp so sweetly in his ear when he snaps your bra apart in a single tug, leaving your upper half bare. 

Your breasts hang heavy and flawless, soft in his gloved hands as he fondles them. “Love your tits,” he says, sucking your nipple into his mouth, coaxing it with his tongue until it’s hard, and you’re squirming in his arms, panting and pulling at his hair. He comes off of it with a wet pop. He cups your ass in both hands, grinds against your thigh so that you can feel how hard he is. “You’re so fucking soft. Wanna fuck ‘em, wanna fuck your tits.”

Those idiots at the gala had no goddamn clue what they were talking about. They were jealous of you, jealous knowing that it wouldn’t be any of their sorry asses he was going to worship inside and out tonight. They wanted to be you, or they wanted to be him, and they were stained an ugly green in their envy. He should have punched their hearts clean out of their chests for making you feel anything less than perfect. 

You–the divine creature you are–nod your assent, breathless and flushed. You’re staring up at him with reverence that runs deeper than the insipid glee he sees in the hoards of livestock he tends to every day: the American populace. You aren’t just awestruck by him, you love him. He wants to devour you for it.

“Okay,” you say, eager and sweet. He lets you take a step back from him. “Do it. I want you to.”

Homelander watches you drop down onto the bed, intently tracks every bounce of your body. He steps towards you, and takes in the sight of you while you work on unbuckling his pants. He touches your hair, cups your cheek. He likes the way your skin looks against the crimson of his gloves, wants to see you stripped down bare and ruined by your hero, your god. Tipping his head back, he stares up at the mirrored ceiling above his bed, lets out a soft groan at the sight of you both.

The suit is carved into the shape of an adonis, rippling muscles that jut and curve. It creates the illusion of the body people expect from a man who can bend steel with his bare hands. It’s everything he should be. He sucks in a sharp breath when you free his cock, but he stops you when you go to push his pants down, grabbing hold of your wrists. “Not yet. Leave ‘em,” he says, distracting you by bringing your hands to your chest. 

“Hold ‘em up for me, alright? That’s it, there you go, just like that,” he says, licking his lips. He takes hold of his cock, and takes a step closer, nudging the leaking head of it under your breasts. There’s not enough slip to be comfortable for either of you, so he leans over to the bedside table and pops open the drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube. With a brief flash from his laser vision, he warms the bottle.

“Lean your head back,” he says, and you do. You look like a work of art, your breasts heavy in your hands, spilling between your fingers where you’re holding them up, pressed together nice and tight. He drizzles the warm lube all across your chest, watches with perverse hunger as it rolls down the slopes of your body. Admittedly, he goes a little overboard, taken in by the image it paints.

“Too much,” you say, but he gives the bottle an additional cheeky little squeeze anyways.

“Can’t help it,” he says, tossing the bottle back into the drawer. “Y’look like a goddamn porn star.”

He can feel the heat of your flush. Somehow, you look demure, even as you sit naked from the waist up, holding your breasts for him to fuck. “Will you fuck me like one?” You ask, and Christ, he feels your words like punches to the gut.

“Is that what you want?” He puts his hands on yours, and slips his cock between your slick breasts, rocking his hips slowly. They feel unreal, enveloping him, impossibly supple and warm. “Want me to fuck you like the whole world’s watching?”

Your blush deepens, crawls all the way down from your cheeks to your chest, where he can feel the heat of it all around his cock. Holding his gaze, you nod, too flustered to respond verbally, which only drives him wilder.

All the while, he can smell your building arousal. The wetter you get, the more his head spins, focusing on the nuances of it: the damp smell of those pretty silky panties he bought you, the way you’re subtly rocking your hips like he won’t notice, seeking any friction at all to feed your own mounting desire.

He’ll have to resist ripping those panties off you. He wants to keep them as a trophy. The smooth slip of your breasts is sweeter than words, but as he thrusts faster, he aches for more. More tension, more friction, more everything. Homelander groans roughly, and pushes you down onto the bed sharply enough that you yelp, falling back harmlessly onto the plush bedding. He wastes no time in tearing the dress from your body, to which you make a noise of protest.

“But–you got that for me, I-” “I’ll get you another,” he dismisses. “I’ll get you ten of them, twenty. You’ll have everything. You understand me?” He drags his hands down your sides, hooks his fingers on the hips of your panties to slide them off. Those? Those he tucks into his pocket. “You’ll have everything.” He dips his hand between your legs, gloves slick with residual lube, and rubs your wet entrance with the leather clad tip of his middle finger. He pushes it in deep.

“I already do,” you gasp, reaching for him. He leans over you, lets you take hold of his hair, his cheek, obliges you when you pull him in to kiss. His hunger is barely contained, leaving him in sharp little nips to your bottom lip, and the ravenous press of his tongue into your mouth. He slips another finger into you, crooks them wickedly as he rocks them in and out, turning your voice thin and breathy. “You are everything to me.”

“Keep talking,” Homelander tells you, drawing out of your hold. He kneels at the edge of the bed and hikes your legs up over his shoulders, mindful of his pauldrons. He never stops pumping his fingers, keeps his pace steady while he leans in and sucks your clit between his lips. You jerk up, but you’re powerless against his hold. 

“You’re so good to me,” you breathe, tangling your fingers in his hair. He’s never fingered you with his gloves on before, but you’re certainly not complaining. You’re moving with him now, pushing into every thrust, moaning. “You’re so beautiful. O-oh, god, I could watch you forever.” Homelander’s gaze flickers up. He realizes you’re not looking at him, but at the mirror above you. He smirks, nuzzling in against you, enjoying that you’re watching him ruin you. You used to hide from that mirror, stay under the covers as much as you could. Now look at you, splayed out beneath it, enraptured by the vision of him swallowing you down. He preens with your words, shakes his head against you. Drags his tongue through the wet mess and fucks you deeper, firmer. He keeps going until your litany of praise and prayer falls off into sharp gasps and wordless euphoria.

He can taste your orgasm when it hits, smell it in the chemistry of your body. Your clit throbs wildly against his tongue, and he sucks it greedily. He doesn’t stop until you’re nearly sobbing from whe overwhelm of sensation, pushing him back with frail, exquisitely delicate efforts. He could hold you down if he wanted to, it would be easy to wring another bursting climax from you, but he relents.

This time.

 Standing up, Homelander drags his gloved hand over his mouth, wiping away the majority of the mess. He unzips both gloves, and tosses them to the side. He wants to feel what he’s about to do next.

You look heavenly, sprawled out loose-limbed and spent, but there is such fire in your eyes when he meets your gaze. “I didn’t forget,” you say, to which he quirks a brow. “Like a pornstar,” you remind him, and he grins.

Effortlessly, Homelander flips you onto your stomach. He loves the way you giggle when he manhandles you, moving you as though you weigh nothing at all. To him, you don’t. You’re light as a feather, and he uses that to his every advantage. He lifts you up onto your knees, brings you right to the edge of the bed, and presses in close behind you. He grabs two helping handfuls of your ass, kneads it while he grinds his cock along the line of it. He gives an appreciative little slap.

You moan, resting your head atop your folded arms. Despite your release, there is neediness etched into your every movement: the anticipation in how you spread your legs, impatiently rocking back into his hands, your nails clawing at the bedding. He’s more aware of your body than you ever will be. He drags it out a while longer, finds your clit with the head of his cock and grinds against it. 

“Stop teasing me,” you whine, trying to push back against him, but he holds you easily in place. He licks his lips, his own cock achingly hard. “Tell me then, sweetheart,” he says, his voice reduced to a low rasp. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you say without hesitation, twisting your grip in the bedding.

“Specifics,” he pushes, his ego nearly as demanding as his cock.

“Put your cock inside me and pound me until your name is the only one I know,” you say, voice wrung tight and impatient. “Please, please, I want you in me. I need to feel you. You make me feel so good , please–”

Fuck, your voice drives him insane. He’s maddened by the eagerness with which you appeal to him, the sincerity in it even when he’s edging you, toying with you, riling you up to see if you’ll crack, to see if you’ll lose this perfect sweetness in the way you profess your love and your need, but you never do. He aches for it, he never wants to stop digging it out of you.

Your string of adulation is cut short when he finally lines himself up and pulls you back onto his cock, wringing a keening moan from you, a noise of relief and pleasure and agony all at once. He’s only barely breached you with the head of his cock. It isn’t nearly enough to satisfy you. You want more. You want all of him. You want to be fucked by Homelander’s fat cock.

Tipping his head back, he stares up at himself, dressed still in red, white and blue while you’re stripped naked, wearing worship and vulnerability more beautifully than he’s ever seen it. He grabs hold of your hips and steadies you, sinks you back onto his cock in one smooth pull. You make a noise that goes straight to the heat at the core of him, feeding it like kindling to the flames.

“Look at you,” he moans, watching both of your reflections. He alternates between the curves of your body, and meeting his own eye. “So fucking perfect .”

Sliding his hands up your sides, he drops his head to kiss a trail up your spine. He cups your breasts, fondles your nipples with his thumbs. They feel so much better in his bare hands, soft and still slightly slick. He gives a shuddering moan and picks up a steady pace, kneading them against your chest while he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

You asked him to make you forget everything but his name. That’s exactly his intent as he pounds into you. Holding you steady against the sharp slap of his hips, he’s moving so relentlessly that you can’t get in enough air to string together any of those pretty words. He doesn’t care anymore, the gasps and half-sobs of pleasure each thrust knocks out of you are music to his ears. He’s already walking the wire’s edge, so hard and sensitive that it almost hurts. Dropping one hand from your chest, he takes those slick fingers and presses the middle to your clit, cradling your belly against his arm, sinking again and again into the sweet, wet softness of you, wanting only to ever be closer, deeper. He moans when the contact makes your pussy tighten up. He barely has to move his finger when he’s fucking you fast and hard enough to jostle you against it. You come again, and this time, you pull him over the edge with you.

Homelander slams in deep, practically growling against you as load after load spills into you in wet pumps. He comes so hard his vision tunnels for a split second. It takes him a full minute to recover, to feel as though his soul has tethered itself back to his body.

Carefully, suspecting you will be tender, he withdraws from you, gentle in the way he helps you sink back down onto the bed. He lets out a long, slow exhale. Christ.

While he had expected you to immediately melt into a pile of goo on the bed, you surprise him by sitting up, adjusting until you’re sitting in front of him. He begins to usher you back, get you comfortable down on the pillows, but as weak and lovely as you are, you refuse it. “Let me undress you now,” you say, unbuttoning the lapel of his suit top. Reflexively, he stops you, hand exceedingly delicate on your wrist.

“Yeah,” he says, still coming down from the high. With it, those complicated feelings from earlier come bubbling back to the surface. “Yeah, in a minute. Lay down.”

Still, you do not.

“You love my body so well,” you say, tone supplicating. He nearly flinches, a part of him hating that you know him well enough to know to speak so tenderly in this moment. “Let me love yours, too. Please.”

Disarmed, Homelander slowly drops his hands to his sides. With a kind smile, you unfasten his top, working it off of his shoulders until it falls to the ground. Up on your knees, you rest your hands on his shoulders, and he begins his hands to your waist. He watches the top of your head as you kiss the center of his chest, then the left side, then the right. You pepper these saccharine touches all over his torso, murmuring sweet nothings against his skin all the while.

Eventually, without his permission, his vision begins to blur. He blinks it back stubbornly, caught off guard by the sudden threat of tears. Why is this happening? He’s happy.

You work his pants off as well, sweeping your hands down his slender thighs. They’re nothing like the carved musculature of his suit. He pets your hair, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck as you kiss your way back up to his chest. Your hands glide down his shoulders, his arms, and you squeeze. He flexes subconsciously, though it does little to make up for the bulk missing from his suit. His heart falls into his stomach when you meet his gaze, and he sees your expression falter.

“I’m fine,” he says reflexively.

“I know,” you say, ever so persistently gentle. “I love you so much. Every part of you–” you say, tracing your hands down his sides, to the sharp jut of his hips. “–is so unbelievably beautiful. Sometimes I can’t believe that it’s mine,” you say wistfully, leaning in to kiss his throat, his jaw.

Closing his eyes, Homelander wraps his arms around you, cradling your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” he echoes, voice little more than a low rasp. You coax him under the blankets with you, your body a relief to sink in against. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he tucks your head in under his chin, your legs easily tangling together. There is an ease in the way your bodies slot against one another, as if they were always meant to.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“What for?” He asks, absently stroking your hair.

“Everything. For defending me. For loving me. For seeing me. Just… For all of it. Thank you,” you say, squeezing him as tight as you can. Somehow, despite the disparity in your strength, it’s the most securely held he’s ever felt.

Homelander is rendered speechless by it. He squeezes you in turn, nuzzling in against the top of your head. He feels warm and heavy all over, lost to the steady beat of your heart. Your heart, this precious, bleeding thing that you’ve given him so wholly and freely. He would think it foolish if he was not so painfully aware that you, too, hold his heart in your hands. It is a mangled, ugly thing, battered and discolored from years of misuse, but it is yours nonetheless.

Now more than ever, he thinks that it’s never been safer.

[rius-cave]

What was the moment that made both Lucifer and Adam realize they have feelings for each other?

I know you said Luci would realize first but what was the moment and how did they react?

God anon,,,,, this is such a loaded question. You're putting my delirious shipper brain to the test here, I must say. But I'll give it a go.

This has to happen very well into Adam's redemption, alright? Okay so, I think Lucifer would realize and accept to himself that he's attracted to Adam somewhat very early on. It's easy to tease him, it's fun to put him in his place and watch him be so weak and also getting his just desserts. Somewhere along those lines, the teasing goes into a territory where he's like "yeah, I'd fuck that, why not" and I imagine he does so not long after lol. However this is still very much a power thing and a "putting him in his place" thing. And then Adam eventually starts to change and behaves better (not without relapses obviously) and Lucifer starts seeing that potential that he always knew he had, actually blossom for once! After literal millennia! This makes Lucifer be more open to a more... amicable relationship outside of the bedroom. Lucifer and Adam actually start becoming friends. A lot of drama occurs in between, a lot of relapses, fights, maybe even some betrayals, disappointment, etcetera etcetera.

But once things settle in, picture Adam in his room, a pot in his hand, he's been trying to get this flower to blossom for weeks, and it's finally getting there. Charlie told him a few weeks ago that this was her favorite flower, but it's hard to find and maintain in Hell's conditions. Adam took the challenge and found a seed, a pot, some good soil, and began trying to make it bloom. Lucifer sees him, carefully trimming and plucking so it looks perfect for her, and Lucifer realizes the huge difference between the Adam before him, and the Adam who was in Heaven a couple months ago. He sees him making one of the nicest things he's seen ANYONE ever do, and it means even more coming from him. And then he realizes, holy shit, he's in love with that man.

Adam, meanwhile, it's weeeeeeeeeeell after that, lmao. I don't think he has the emotional maturity to distinguish when he's in love. He hasn't been in love for most of his life/afterlife by this point. He's forgotten how to love, he's forgotten how it feels to genuinely care for a person in that way. Adam doesn't fall for Lucifer in one specific moment, he will never be able to really pinpoint a moment. In fact, even when Lucifer finally drops the bomb and tells him that he's developed real feelings for him, Adam does not believe him, doesn't even UNDERSTAND what he's talking about, like what does that even mean??? Adam doesn't understand what love is anymore, sure, he loves having sex with Lucifer and most recently he actually has fun hanging out with him, they understand each other better and Adam feels really fucking good with himself about his new attitude. But love? Please.

This probably leads to even more drama, Lucifer is frustrated and a little heartbroken because even after confessing his feelings, he just can't get through to him! Much less figure out if Adam feels the same or not! But it's okay, because he's patient, and even if Adam doesn't understand, he asks if they can make their relationship more formal and serious.

Adam is hesitant, but he figures why not, it's not like things will change much for him anyway, it's not like he's fucking anyone else or really wants to fuck anyone else, so he accepts. And they carry on with their relationship for another looooong, long time.

Finally, one day, Adam wakes up next to him, after a particularly good night, and he simply... stares at him, blinks, takes in all his features, and thinks about how he got here and everything they've been through together. A warm sensation spreads across his chest, one that is familiar, he's felt it before, but only now is he able to recognize it. Holy shit, he's in love with that man.

[foolish-sparrow]

Stolen Moments

A/N: Okay so I know that I've been neglecting my requests for a while now, but the problem I have is that I can't pick and choose what I want to write, otherwise I will get nothing done.

I will get to them... eventually, but there is a reason as to why I never schedule things ;-;

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Even with the sweat dripping from your skin, strands of hair clinging to your forehead, she would look at you like you were the most beautiful thing on this world. You were never meant to fall in love, especially not this hard or fast, but all it took was for Yoo Karina to catch your eye and it all came crumbling down.

Idol!Karina x Backup-Dancer!Reader

One, two, three, four.

Each clap felt like a tug at your muscles -- limbs flexing, extending, and twirling with such ease.

Hours spent grueling over each movement, every maneuver, meant that you didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Your body simply knew what was to come next, twisting into the correct position without a second thought.

It felt exhilarating when everything came together, when all of the hard work everyone had put in brought forth the fruits of their labor.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy this job so much when you first signed up, but now you can’t imagine doing anything else.

And it helps that you got along with everyone, at least to some degree.

Some more than others.

Once the signal for a break had been called you rushed over to your water bottle -- thankfully still somewhat chilled, and took a few large gulps before placing the side of it against your neck.

You couldn’t stop the relieved sigh as you did so, leaning your back against the wall and sliding down until your butt makes a painful thud against the hard flooring.

Giggles resonate within the room, and you hum in amusement when Winter’s high-pitched whine echoes shortly after.

You flicker your eyes toward the commotion, watching as the four idols in the room fill the space with playful jabs and inside jokes; some of which you know the context of.

The smile that flickers against your features is innate, eyes curving alongside your lips as you observe the scene laid out before you. Laughter pulling at your chest when some of the other backup dancers join in with the intent to drag more reactions out of the short-haired woman.

She pulls another face, and it is almost enough to hold your focus before your attention is caught and held by another.

Karina eyes you from her position beside her friend, and you’re left swallowing the butterflies back into your stomach when her smile filters into something softer, something only you are privy to even in a room filled with others.  

Even with the ache in your limbs and the tiredness in your mind, if Karina had asked you to join her you would have. The desire to be close will always outweigh everything else.

She goes to open her mouth, and you wait patiently for her words, but someone is clapping their hands before anything more can be done.

Time to get back to work.

- - - - - - - - - - ☆ - - - - - - - - - -  

Hours come and go, and by the end you can’t even hide the shake in your legs as you pack your things back into your bag.

Usually, you would have already taken a shower, washing away both the sweat and the ache, but the late hour against the clock has you wanting to go home and collapse onto the softness of your bed.

It doesn’t help that you are the last one to leave, every movement you make echoing within the empty room.

“You’re still here?”

The sudden voice has the muscles in your back jolting, unsteady legs causing you to fall backward as you snap your wide eyes to the door.

Karina’s eyes are filled with mirth at your blunder, and the hand she shoots to her mouth isn’t enough to muffle the laughs that erupt from her lips.

With a stuttered breath you place a hand against your chest, shooting her a look that held no malice, “you almost gave me a heart attack.”

She removes her hand away from her mouth at your words, but the smile on her face does little to calm your over-excited heart.

Her footsteps seem muffled as she approaches, reaching a hand out for you once she’s close enough. “Are you saying that I don’t make your heart race anyway?”

A scoff tears itself past your lips in a futile attempt to diverge attention from the blush on your cheeks, but the knowing look in her eyes calls out your bluff with relative ease.

Still, you’re glad that she is here, because having a comeback means time together away from work are few and fleeting.

You allow her to get you up from the floor, but the moment you’re back standing your hands are on her shoulders to help you stabilize – it would seem the muscles in your legs have already fallen into slumber when you had fallen over.

Her grip falls to your sides when she notices your struggle, and you fail to notice the concern in her eyes since your gaze has dropped to the floor.

“You okay?”

Her words are comforting when they wash over you, and you give yourself another moment until answering.

“Yeah,” you whisper out, only just remembering how tired you actually were, “yeah I’m good. Just need some rest.”

A shiver slithers up your spine when her thumbs unconsciously rub along your ribcage, and even though you no longer need her to keep you from falling you pull yourself closer to her warmth.

Her arms encircle your frame as you approach, and you groan out your fatigue into her shoulder.

The chuckle she presses against the side of your head is decisively wicked, her lips stretched into a smile before she places a tender kiss against your skin.

You don’t even consider it an overreaction when the thought of falling asleep right now flickers through your mind, but you know you’ll never get her on board with such a ludicrous idea.

“Come on,” she breathes out, and it’s almost as if she’s reading your mind when she adds, “you can’t fall asleep here, especially since there is a nice soft bed with your name on it.”

Another groan forces itself from somewhere deep, but you otherwise do as asked when you hesitantly pull away.

The smile on her lips is very reminiscent of the one she shot you earlier, but it is quickly robbed from your sight when she leans in, placing a delicate kiss against your forehead, both of your eyelids, your nose, before covering your own.

The kiss is short, but as with any you shared it still held enough impact over your heart and mind to be engraved into your memory for safekeeping.

“Now,” she grins, pulling away so she can take one of your hands instead, “let’s get you home.”

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #4] The Gym

warnings: a gym. no further warning. oh and jk is sexy but what’s new?

soundtrack: 20 something - sza, angostura - keshi

wc: 4.1k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

Glancing down to the address that Hoseok had hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper, you sigh. It's a hearty one. Clears your lungs. Gets your blood pumping a little swifter. There's a weight to staying alive, and it feels like it might just crush down on your windpipe and suffocate you altogether.

Okay, so maybe you're being dramatic. Maybe this is fine. You tell yourself to 'get a grip', but you know it's useless.

It's not that you're nervous - except for the fact you completely are - you just don't like the idea of gyms. They remind you of your ex a little too much. 

More specifically, how he'd force you to go along with him, and how you'd whine and moan, but spend the entire time laughing with him. How he'd lift you instead of weights. How he'd tell you that you look 'far too hot' in a pair of leggings and sports bra, and the way you'd keep them on until you got home just for the simple pleasure of him being the one to take them off.

So, yeah. You don't like gyms. Avoid them when you can.

Partially because you don't know which one he goes to anymore, but mainly because it feels like you can't breathe whenever you see a pair of shoulders almost broad enough to be his. There tend to be a lot of jacked guys in gyms. Makes it a more common occurrence.

Still, you've been trying to remedy that. Trying to face fears. Failing, but trying at least.

You swallow back the lump in your throat. Bite the bullet. Open the door. Easy. 

The girl at the front desk is potentially the most drop-dead gorgeous woman you've ever seen. Blonde, petite, a smile that could end wars. She's laughing with another member of staff - a trainer, you think - before he goes into a backroom.

You're a little unsure of yourself still, but she's glowing in such a way that it feels like maybe this could be okay. Nothing to fear. Plus who would even bother looking at a man's shoulders when someone who looks like she does is around? Far more captivating. Endlessly more appealing.

Her smile focuses on you as you walk towards her, brows lifted, eyes wide and open as if to say 'hiya! welcome!'. Her voice is just as chirpy as you imagine when she greets you.

"I don't think I recognise you," she says, questioning herself before she makes an introduction. "My name's Jiyeong, I'm a trainer here. Are looking to sign up for a membership?"

You shake your head and laugh a little awkwardly. You're not really dressed for the gym - a pair of sweats and a slouchy Carhartt tee. It's not sports gear appropriate for a place like this. Everyone's in skin-tight lycra, and they all look great wearing it. Makes you think that maybe you should try and get over this fear for good. Become one of those people.

"No, actually," you grimace a little awkward, voice sweet. You know you're gonna be asking for a favour, so try and fail to keep it short. Instead, you ramble a little. "I'm meeting someone here, but I don't have my phone - he's got it actually. Dumb accident. Long story actually, completely my fault - anyways, I was wondering if you'd be able to buzz me through so I could just grab it quickly? I'll be five seconds, in and out. Please."

It's at this point the corners of her mouth drop a little. Her lips press together. She's still smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes anymore. "Hmm?"

"His name is Jeongguk," you begin to explain further - but then she smiles again and cuts you off.

"Oh, I don't think I know a Jeongguk?" She pouts a little. "Anyways, I'm really sorry but I can't let you through without a membership. Company policy. I really wish it wasn't the case, but they track the entry process."

You don't want to put her out. You've worked in customer service for long enough to know not to push company protocol. It's not worth getting fired over just to make a customer's life a tiny bit easier - and so you nod. 

"Of course, totally understand," you say as you glance over to the gate that allows access into the workout area. It needs a passcode. Can't even make a dash for it - although you're half tempted to when you see a couple come through the gate without a care in the world. It takes an absolute age to shut. "Do you guys do day memberships here? I literally just need to get in and out, but I'll pay for a day pass if I need to."

Something about Jiyeong is really throwing you off. She's smiling, and she looks like butter wouldn't melt, but there's a sourness to it all. There's no butter. Just curdled milk.

She winces apologetically. Shrugs. Brings her shoulders to her ears in a way you would have found sweet maybe five minutes ago. Shakes her head. 

"They're referral only. You'll need someone with a preexisting membership with you. But!" She chirps up. "We have a month pass you can purchase instead."

For all of your common sense faux pas, and the bad decisions that have led you here, you're not actually stupid. No gym in their right mind would actively try and sabotage their own earnings. She's spewing bullshit, but is somehow managing to make it smell like roses.

"A month?" You question, trying not to let your frustration show.

"Mhhm," she nods.

Her beauty seems to fade with every smile. Ironic, really. Her friendly demeanour is what had made her so attractive, and now it's shattering the illusion.

In any other circumstance, you'd say fuck it, and head home - but Jeongguk has your phone. 

You said you'd meet him here. You could wait until he finishes his workout but you have no idea when that will be, and you're still suffering from your hangover. You just want to get it over and done with, so you say, "Alright, I'll sign up for a month. No rolling contract."

"No rolling contract," she nods. "Okay. Just need a few details from you."

There's a form to fill out; payment details to be given. A box to tick: which trainer helped you sign-up? Small print: Trainers earn a small commission for every sign-up. Please ask for their name. 

You're half tempted to check another trainer's name, but she's watching you like a fucking hawk.

Should have just chosen the club. Would have been easier. Could have even made a night of it - it's a Saturday after all. But no, you and your tiny marble brain thought that the gym would be easier? Better?

Ridiculous. Hoseok had been right all along. It was the worst choice you'd made all week.

"You're all ready," she smiles as you lament the choices of your past self. She says a goodbye that sounds friendly but feels like a fuck you. You're not sure what exactly you've done to rub her up the wrong way, but you'd quite like it if you never rubbed shoulders with her again.

There's a mechanical whir as you enter a pin into the gate. It opens for you with a small beep, and you feel like your throat is closing up a little bit. There's a wrought iron staircase leading up to the weight area, the bottom level focused more on machines and cardio. A third floor is reserved for studios and private classes according to the signage, so you decide he's probably not there.

You don't know much about this man, but you have seen him without a shirt on. The weight area seems like a safe bet. 

There's an uncomfortable discord in your chest as you head up to the second floor, your black high-top chucks padding against the metal gently. Hair up, not even trying to pretend like you're not still hanging, part of you regrets dressing so casually.

Your skin feels all hot and clammy, and you know exactly why, but you try and convince yourself that it's just the hangover. That's all it is.

It'll pass, you tell yourself. In and out. You're alright.

Jeongguk notices you before you notice him. He's by the mirrors. Caught sight of you, your eyes all wide and worried - presumably in search of him -  as he was checking his form. Putting his weight down, he turns to face you a little more straight on, which is what draws your focus to him.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly, a tone of surprise evident. He whips a towel over his shoulder, and you're reminded of how he looked behind the bar of Dionysus. Dabs at his face a little. Shakes his head to adjust the hair that is stuck to his forehead from his workout.

"What are you doing up here?" He asks tenderly, conscious of the fact you look like you've seen a ghost. He's aware he probably doesn't look his best, but he didn't think he looked that bad. "I told Jiyeong to let me know when you arrived. Was just gonna bring it down, save you the hassle."

"Oh," you reply, a little stuck on your words. The burning in your throat is subduing. The pressure on your chest feels a little lighter. 

"Sorry, I -" you begin, and then you remember who the fuck you are. You hate being like this. Hate when you get panicked. Hate that he seems to be looking at you with concern. Also hate that Jiyeong is apparently a massive dick, but you'll choose to be frustrated about that later. "I actually have a membership here."

Joy.

Jeongguk hums in surprise, head tilting, mouth forming a cute little 'o'. "You do? Never seen you here before."

Wonder why.

"Oh yeah, here all the time," you nod, because apparently Jiyeong isn't the only one who fancies being a big old liar today. And then you smile. Flirt. "Like, maybe even more than you."

Now, this he does raise a brow at. Smirks. Picks up his weight as he moves to straddle the bench beside him. He sits down and places the weight beneath his arms for something to lean on. "Not so sure about that."

He's wearing black chucks, too. Slouchy black tee. The only real difference is that he's in shorts. Your lips curve upwards, but you catch them before he notices.

"I'm just always downstairs," you shrug, playing off your little white lie like it's no biggie. "Surprised I haven't seen you about here, either."

You don't mean to be such an egregious liar, you're just embarrassed. Ashamed. Disconcerted by the fact you know you looked like a lost puppy when you arrived, and also how you know Jiyeong totally played some weird power move on you. You're not sure what to make of it. Don't like it, but also will likely never see her again. Not worth it. Not over some guy you don't intend on ever seeing again, either.

The logical assumption to be made is that she's involved with him in some capacity. Makes sense. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to get lonely in the early hours.

Jeongguk accepts your bullshit. He knows it's bullshit because he does cardio as much as he does weights - anyone with an inkling of gym knowledge would be able to tell. He's sure you have your own niche, things that would win you points on a pub quiz, but the gym? Doesn't seem likely.

"Phones just in my locker," he tells you as he gets to his feet again, lifting his weight like it's a cup of coffee. You've no idea how much it weighs. Doubt you'd be able to make it look that effortless. "I'm just finishing up. Can you wait, like, five minutes? Or do you have places to be?"

His skin is dappled in rivulets of sweat. There's too much to take in visually, so you focus on his voice, instead. It's soft. Tender. Kind, you think. 

And so despite the fact there's no place you'd rather be less, you smile. Nod. "I can wait."

He nods back, says thank you, and gets back to his weights. He does a few more reps just to get to his daily goal, and then sets about clearing his area; puts the weights back on the rack, wipes down his bench. Runs his hand through his damp hair. Exhales a deep breath before turning to face you with a smile.

You wonder if he can notice the drool you've been trying not to let slip. 

He can't - but finds it curious how he didn't catch your gaze a single time during his final few reps. The gym is relatively quiet at this time of day, so there's no one in the immediate vicinity. Whenever he'd glanced in the mirror, your eyes were elsewhere.

One place in particular. 

The other mirror; one that's angled in such a way you can see his side profile. Jeongguk's aware of it. Had kind of positioned himself in line with it on purpose. 

"What's so interesting?" he asks and is met with a confused hum. Does he really think you're gonna admit to checking him out? Dream on. "You were just like... absorbed by that mirror. Good reflection?"

"Oh," you mumble, cheeks deepening in tone - and yet your poker face is just so good. "Was zoned out. Didn't notice."

He doesn't call you out on it any further. For all he knows, you could be telling the truth.

You wait for him by the entryway gate as he gets changed. Jiyeong watches you from the corner of her eye, being as discreet as she possibly can - but you can feel her eyes on you. In fact, she's as good at discretion as you were when you were watching Jeongguk work out.

When he finally emerges in a pair of grey shorts and hoodie, you smile. So does Jiyeong. 

He greets you. Ushers you through the gate. Says hi and bye to Jiyeong. Puts a hand on the top of your back as he opens the front door of the gym, but insists you walk through first. 

"How are you feeling today?" He asks as you make your way down the path that leads to the subway station. "Still rough?"

"That obvious?" You laugh. "Ouch. Thanks, dude."

"No," he laughs back. "You're forgetting I was the only sober person in my apartment last night. You drank enough to kill a person."

"That's not true," you accuse, before deflecting the blame. "Was all you and your Purple Starfuckers. Bloody lethal."

"Bloody brilliant," he counters. There's an ease as you walk side by side. You chalk it up to finally being out of the gym. Feels like you can breathe again. "Tell me you didn't keep coming back for more."

He has a point. You're surprised you didn't all drink the bar dry. But you simply laugh. Tap the crease of his elbow lightly with the back of your hand. 

He's smiling, too.

"Tell me you didn't keep giving me them for free! On the house! What kind of maniac turns down free drinks?!"

You've got a point. He can't argue against it - so instead he just gets a little argumentative. It's all in good fun. Shared humour. 

"Well then next time, you'll get nothing on the house, how about that? Not even water."

You snort a little, pushing your head back as you do so. You pass the first subway exit, with no idea if you're heading in the right direction for one another. Neither of you asks; neither of you declares. 

"Next time?" You scoff, still hanging. "I'm never drinking again."

"Heard that one before."

"I mean it. This hangover has written me off. Work almost killed me."

He wonders where you work. Wonders if the work is gruelling, or if you'd been able to recover in peace. He hopes for the latter. Would tease you if it's the former.

"You working tomorrow?" he pipes up. There's curiosity in his tone, but not enough for you to realise just how intrigued he is by you.

He's never seen a girl walk out on Jimin before. Ever. It's kind of remarkable. He wants to know why. Doesn't want to ask why, though.

You shake your head. "Day off." 

Thank god.

Jeongguk considers his options. He knows full well, walk-out or not, that you fucked Jimin last night. It adds complexity. Makes him unsure of his next steps. 

It's not like he's trying to get in your pants - he'd never hear the end of it from the boys if he went for Jimin's leftovers - but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't like your presence at the bar last night.

Not just you. All three of you. You've good energy. He enjoys the nights when punters are actually fun. If tonight is gonna be busy, he'd rather it be busy on his own terms.

"DJ's are doing a throwback theme tonight," he hums, and the way you stop in your tracks is beyond satisfying for him. He loves it when a plan comes together.

"Throwbacks, you say?"

He stops too, and turns to look at you with a slight air of nonchalance. There's a shrug to his broad shoulders, which remarkably don't remind you of your exes, his wide eyes soft as a subtle smile graces his lips. "All bangers."

"Define bangers," you challenge.

And oh, how Jeon Jeongguk loves a challenge. 

"Well," he says as he begins walking again. You follow. "Last time there were a LOT of old-school Taylor Swift songs."

"Keep talking."

"Timbaland, Rihanna - I'm talking proper noughties classics."

"I'm listening."

"Outkast, Coldplay, Arctic Monkeys-"

"Offt."

"-Kanye, Mika, you name it. One Direction, fuckin' anything. They'll play it."

"Do they take requests?"

"Well, no I didn't mean they'll literally play anything you name," he laughs. "But you've got an in." He points at himself, seemingly proud of that fact. "I can get them to play whatever you want."

"Offt, I love having friends in high places," you muse, to which he tells you to 'fuck off' with the biggest grin on his face you've seen all day. "I'll think about it. You on the bar?"

He nods. "I am indeed."

"Hmm. Makes it less tempting."

Jeongguk wants to fight back, but knows that he'd probably end up flirting, and it's not his intention - so he changes the topic. 

"Jimin might be there, too. A friendly face."

He doesn't notice the way your face scrunches up a little uncomfortably. 

"I'm not really sure that'll sway me," you tell him. "Was a one-time thing. Sorry about that, again. Waking you, I mean. Not cool."

You really do believe your words - after all, Jeongguk had been the one to return your phone, not Jimin. Chivalry is dead, and apparently men get their housemates to return glass slippers, these days.

It's kind of Jeongguk's own fault.

Jimin doesn't know you've lost it. Jeongguk hasn't told him. Isn't sure why. Didn't really think about it at the time.

"It's fine, really. And I've lived with Jimin long enough to know it's never just a one-time thing."

"I'm an exception."

"Believe it when I see it."

And suddenly you feel challenged now - but you're by the final subway entrance. You've walked past three exits already. Should have really taken the first. Couldn't bring yourself to end the conversation earlier. 

However, now that the conversation has turned towards the topic of Jimin, you find yourself less inclined to continue it. You'd rather not be reminded of your questionable drunk decisions in the cold, sober light of day.

"This is me," you tell him. 

"Ah." He stops walking. Pauses. Looks at his Chuck Taylor-clad feet as he stands in front of you. He's holding onto the strap of his rucksack as he asks, "So you'll be at the club tonight?"

When he looks up, he's nibbling down on his bottom lip—toying with his lip ring. There's a hesitancy to his words, as if he's afraid you might say no.

You pretend as if you're weighing up your options, shifting your weight from foot to foot, lips pursed. You know if you propose the idea to Hoseok he'll jump at the chance to get shitfaced again, and where the pair of you venture, Danbi will surely follow. It's inevitable that you will end up at Dionysus tonight. 

But you simply smile and say, "Maybe."

He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh. He laughs, too. It's sweet, the way his energy matches yours. There's an ease to your rapport. You think it must be incredibly easy to be his friend. 

"Promise me a free Purple Starfucker, and I'll consider it a little bit more," you bargain.

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as he readjusts his bag over his shoulder, shaking his head a little. His eyes are glossy, and dark, and you think they look just like black treacle.  

"Maybe."

"Okay then," you nod. "See you maybe, Jeongguk."

He nods back. "See you maybe, Disco Ball."

"I won't come if you call me a disco ball again," you shout back as you descend down the stairs, leaving him by the exit.

He chooses not to banter back, scared he could ruin the moment; make things awkward, somehow. Instead, he turns on his heel, and begins retracing his steps. 

His turning was three junctions ago. He'd carried on walking just to talk bullshit with you. He chalks it up to him being too awkward to cut the conversation off. 

See, he might like a challenge, but he's plagued by the realities of them, too. Hates the idea of people not liking him. Wants to be loved universally, so refuses to embark on endeavours that could prove otherwise. He's Mr What If, and he's quite content that way. 

Jeongguk's nearly by the first crossing when he hears you shouting after him. You're a little breathless. Panting. He knows there's absolutely no way you do cardio.

"Wait, wait!" You call all flustered and hurried. "Jeongguk! Wait!" 

He's already waiting. The lights are still red. You're too concerned by your own internal panic to notice.

"Phone!" You almost wail, before you laugh. Inhale. Rest your palms on your knees. Exhale. Look up towards him. "My phone, Jeongguk! You still have my phone."

"Oh, shit," he laughs, pulling off his rucksack and fishing about for it. Seems so stupid to have forgotten about it. His cheeks are hot. 

It's returned promptly, apologies tumbling from his lips like laughter is falling from yours.

"This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" You narrow your eyes accusingly. "Was gonna keep it so I had to go to the club."

He raises his arms, hands next to his ears, palms spread open, as if he's holding a white flag. "You caught me."

But it'll be Jeongguk catching you later - or at least your gaze, as he reciprocates a knowing smile when you inevitably end up in Dionysus, ready to make all the wrong choices all over again.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[satoruluvies]

first angst drabble!! i cannot write angst without tryna cryy :(

okk here it goes HELP srry this took while say i had go school to catch up works i miss when sick

imagine nanami sending you texts every time when he goes out for mission it start with "hey how are you?" and at night he give you heads up "mhm comin home late." it's always was a routine, one mission was going be his very last he text you sweet messages how he Forgot kiss the kids good Moring since he went early but he promise to you when he comes back he give them a sweetest night kiss, you guys texted back and fought before he had to go, he sent you a message d before he had to go, you were to focus on the Kids you didn't see it pop up, minutes went hours you were so worried you texted your husband wondering where he is, you saw a text that you missed "if anything happens, I love you." you reply back "promise?" why reply to someone who not on earth anymore?

WHHE2321MNEWD

(this was a diff idea i wanted when everyone was using reader and when she finds a boyfriend, Gojo he just like the same and uses her too tell me if u want this drabble to i thought it was bit mean!!)

-🐱 anon

honestly could go a little something like-

the day starts with the lovely morning text from your husband as usual, smiling to yourself at the endearment he called you and the apology saying he forgot to kiss your lovely daughter before he left. he'd make up for it when he arrive though, you had no doubt.

checking your phone right after you wake up to read your husband's text was your daily routine even before kento became your husband. it just didn't feel like your morning was complete without doing so.

this particular morning however, you find yourself crying for a reason you can't find yourself to pinpoint.

you: i think my period is coming, im getting emotional for no reason. come kiss me better when you arrive!

✓ 6.54 am

you set your phone down and take a moment to bask in the small rays of light falling from your windows into your room and sigh, wiping your tears away. you could really use morning kiss right now.

"mama!" your daughter scurried over to your bed and threw her tiny body over yours earning a giggle from both your mouths. you place a chaste kiss on her forehead and a second one, for kento. it was a charming moment until your daughter's smile disappeared.

"mama are you crying again?" you find your hands rubbing away the tears that happened to run down your cheeks. what is up with that?

"momma's fine, baby. how about we surprise papa with his lunch today? he forgot to give you your morning kiss hm?" you tuck her hair behind her ears, her own eyes slowly turning teary.

"you're doing it again" she pulls away from your hold, a frown now found itself on her adorable face.

"doing what baby?"

"talking like ... like papa is still here. i don't like it."

that's when it hit you. her papa, your husband wasn't here anymore. you knew it, you do but somehow it does not make sense. how could nanami be dead when you've just received your morning text like you always used to when he was here?

you scrambled among your sheets desperately searching for your phone to prove to yourself, more than anyone, that nanami was alive and well. of course he has to be.

however you were only met with disappointment and that nauseating feeling of jumping off somewhere high when you opened your chats to his number.

you: i think my period is coming, im getting emotional for no reason. come kiss me better when you arrive!

[message not sent. this number is no longer in use.]

! 6.54 am

ah. it wasn't for no reason that you were emotional first thing in the morning. it was your body mourning for the love of your life that your mind forced itself to forget about his death.

omg this concept of reader imagining/hallucinating beloved used to be one of my favourite tropes!! pls the way my world paused when i read your drabble because i knew it was angst but i didn't know it was about THIS topic crying crying

also im so glad to know you're better now, enough to go to school hehe i hope the workload isn't too heavy to catch up on <3

[nicoline1998enilocin]

I have a request for loki x fem!reader based on wandavision, where the reader is dead because of endgame or infinity war instead of loki, and he is not taking it well like AT ALL So one day, he storms in s.h.i.e.l.d and demands a funeral for the reader but they refuse. So he drives somewhere in Westview and just full-on cries and falls to his knees cause she gone and just yells out all his anger and loss and creates a whole reality and brings the reader back. And you know his happy with her but doesn't know that he took thousands of people hostage and their feeling his pain, and he doesn't even realize it. So he likes haves kids in the fake reality, and sword tries to get him to take it down, but of course, he doesn't until reader finds out about it all sensing about how their kids are the only ones in Westview and loki tries telling her their probably all sleeping or their all in their rooms but reader doesn't believe him and since the reader was so smart before she died she realizes that he trapped a whole town to recreate her and she tells him that she has to take the whole thing down but loki begs her because he doesn't want to leave his family but she tells him that it's alright and he takes it down and sees how much pain he put the people of Westview through. And then he creates another reality where his reading THE DARKHOLD. hope this is acceptable 🙏 😌.

Living our 'perfect' life | Part 1

PAIRING | Fiancé!Loki Laufeyson x Fiancée!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.2K

SUMMARY | You won the fight against Thanos, but you weren't there to celebrate with all the others, since you didn't get to see it through to the end. Loki doesn't take it well and is hellbent on giving you the proper send-off you deserve, but when SHIELD dismisses him he goes on a warpath to get you back, and he doesn't care who he takes with him in his pain. All he wants is to live the life he desperately wanted, with you by his side.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. This fanfiction takes place right after the battle against Thanos in Avengers: Endgame, but the events I discuss definitely aren’t canon but just my imagination. Major angst, swearing, character death, nervous breakdown.

A/N | Thank you so so SO much for this amazing request @glitteryeggalmondherring, it gave me goosebumps from the moment I read it, and it gave me so many ideas I couldn’t wait to get started! This will be split into two parts, otherwise, it would be too long and I want each part to have its own storyline.

I hope that I could do your request justice and I hope you will enjoy what I wrote. I wasn't able to get through this without crying constantly because I felt so bad for Loki, so I will apologize in advance to anyone who couldn't get through this without tears! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | Part 2

Everyone around the two of you is celebrating, because you won the battle against Thanos. Not the two of you, however. You can't celebrate anymore, because you didn't get the chance to see the end of the fight, you were one of many casualties that happened during the fight. And your fiancé Loki was holding you in his arms, clutching you closely to his chest while his sobs tore through the entire battlefield. No one seems to notice, however, because they're all too busy with their cheers, celebrations, and their big win. But not Loki, because he would never celebrate another win ever again. Not without you by his side.

''No, no, no, darling, please! Please don't leave me, I need you by my side,'' Loki sobs as he's clutching your body close to him, his head resting on your lifeless chest. No more heartbeat to be felt, no more breath to be heard, no more movement to be seen. When he looks into your eyes he sees nothing but emptiness. Staring into nothing, cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him. Those eyes he fell in love with years ago, that always showed nothing but love for him, that looked at him with nothing but adoration, but that could also be looking so good when you were completely fucked out underneath or on top of him.

''Y/n, please,'' is the last thing he says as he holds you close to him. He can't talk anymore due to how much he's been crying, his throat is completely raw and his voice is practically non-existent. He screamed so much, heart-wrenching screams and cries could be heard for miles and miles, yet no one cared. No one but him, or so he thought. Because looking from a small distance was Thor because Loki isn't the only one who lost you that faithful day, Thor lost the woman he loved like his sister, but he's keeping his pain inside, trying to be strong for Loki. He allowed a few tears to stream down his cheeks, but he quickly got himself back together as he walked over to his brother.

''Brother, she's gone. There's nothing we can do for her,'' he says, almost matter-of-factly, and it scares Loki a little. Usually, he was the one who was cold, direct, and didn't care about what others felt. But when it comes to you, he would give everything to be in your place. You deserved to live such a long life, but you didn't get the chance. You don't get to live the life you'd always dreamt of, the one you and Loki have talked about so many times. The one that got ripped away from you without a second thought. Loki could do nothing but sob, he couldn't think, he couldn't speak, he could barely breathe. The crying has taken over his entire being as he softly places kisses all over your face as a last goodbye.

Loki knows he has to leave you behind, but he can't get himself to do it. He can't get himself to set you down, get up and walk away. Doing that would mean goodbye. And he isn't ready for that, he would never be ready to say goodbye to the love of his life. ''I can't,'' he whispers, and Thor just sits down by his side. He knows that there is no point in convincing him otherwise. Shortly after, the other Avengers are slowly sitting around the two of you in a big circle. Everyone is either crying, looking at you and Loki, or holding each other tight as they're starting to accept the fact that their teammate is no longer with them.

No one says anything, just letting Loki do what he has to to let you go. But he can't, he will never be able to let you go, because this goodbye wasn't supposed to happen. He had closed your eyes by now because he wasn't able to look at your eyes without feeling a sharp pain across his chest. He did notice all the Avengers surrounding the two of you, and he felt like your entire family was here, grieving you. He knows he isn't alone in this, but it hurts him so much, he can't think about anything else but you. Your smile, your laughter, your mischievous looks, oh how he loved those looks when you thought of a new plan to annoy or prank someone.

That is exactly the reason he fell for you, and he fell hard. Literally. Because when you were relatively new to the Avengers, you heard about the God of Mischief himself and immediately thought of a plan to prank him. It was such a simple, stupid trick but it worked wonders every single time, and you almost peed yourself from laughter when it worked. You were in the kitchen and told everyone who was there, that you hung a string in the hallway to the kitchen, except for Loki. All the others noticed it and stepped over it, but Loki didn't, and since he was in a heated discussion with Thor (who almost tripped too, thank you very much), he never noticed it and fell flat on his face, a deep groan leaving his chest as he went down, and a loud thud could be heard when he made contact with the floor.

You immediately started laughing so hard your stomach started to hurt, and you could barely breathe, laying on the floor trying to catch your breath, and it was the most wonderful thing Loki had ever seen. When he got up he wanted to get mad, but when he saw you it all melted away instantly, and he knew he was a goner from that moment on. ''So, you're the one who pulled this little stunt?'' Loki asked when you were finally able to breathe again, and you nodded with a wide smile. ''I can't believe I managed to get the literal God of Mischief with such a single prank!'' you said. ''I'm Y/N Y/L/N btw, it's nice to meet you,'' you said with an outstretched hand, which he took in his hand and brought to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. ''Loki Laufeyson, it's an absolute honor to meet you,''.

When he thought back to that moment he smiled a little through his tears, shaking his head. ''You always loved to prank people,'' he whispered to you, as best as he could. ''And I loved you even more because of it,'' he said, remembering everything you did, either with or without him. Because when the two of you were together, no one in the Compound would be safe. ''I'm going to miss her,'' Steve said finally, and everyone agreed. ''We all love her, Loki, always remember that. She fought and died doing what she loved, and we will always love her. She will always be one of us, and I promise that she will never be forgotten,'' he then said, making Loki nod softly as he placed one more kiss on your forehead. ''I love you, darling. I promise that I will find you in every single lifetime after this one,'' and with those words, he set you down and got up. Walking away, because he couldn't handle staying there any longer.

~ One week after the battle ~

The last week has been hard for Loki, he barely came out of his room and hasn't eaten anything since he arrived back at the Compound. He hasn't talked to anyone either, he was grieving the loss of the woman he was going to marry soon. A marriage that would never take place now, and it ate away at him. The Avengers just let him be, only Thor came to check up on him every few hours. ''I'm going to get her the funeral she deserves,'' Loki suddenly says, already thinking of the plan that he was going to use. ''She doesn't deserve to just be shoved into a mass grave with all the other people that died,'' he said, tears staining his cheeks again. He has barely stopped crying, the only moments he didn't cry were when exhaustion took over his body and lulled him into a restless sleep filled with nightmares.

It isn't long after that, that Loki barges into the SHIELD headquarters, dead set on getting you the funeral you deserve, because you died a hero. He searched the entire building until he finally found the person he was looking for, the one and only Nicholas Joseph Fury himself. ''She needs to get the funeral she deserves, she doesn't get to be thrown into a fucking mass grave with all these other nameless people like she meant nothing,'' Loki said, raising his voice at Fury immediately. He wasn't fazed in the slightest, however, and didn't react to Loki. ''Do you fucking hear me? She died a hero to save all our asses, she doesn't deserve what she got!'' he yells at him and Fury finally looked up at the God.

''No, she doesn't get one. She may have fought just like the rest of them, but I know for sure she didn't die a hero,'' he says. ''She doesn't get a funeral, because no one who died that day gets a funeral, and your fiancée isn't going to be the exception to this rule,'' he says and Loki can't believe this. ''You're fucking kidding me, right? She died so we had a chance to live. She died so we could win the battle, which is more than can be said about you. YOU WEREN'T EVEN THERE!'' Loki says before storming out of Fury's office, wreaking havoc wherever he goes, destroying the building with his magic, and not giving a single damn about anyone that gets injured.

When he's outside he just opens a random car with his magic, gets into the driver's seat, and turns it on. He drives far away from New York, away from the life he once lived, the life he shared with you because it is too painful to stay there and be constantly reminded of you. He drove for hours and hours until he couldn't contain his emotions anymore, and he stopped on the side of the road in a town called Westview. He got out of the car and dropped to his knees, screaming until his lungs burn, until every single muscle in his body is giving out and he falls onto the ground, his knees hitting the pavement with a loud thud. He doesn't care however, he doesn't care about the pain, because it's nothing compared to the loss he feels.

He can't contain his tears, and turns into a sobbing, screaming mess on the verge of a nervous breakdown. When he keeps thinking about you, he tips himself over the edge and a large burst of magic bursts out of him. ''FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUCK!'' is all he can scream at this point, rocking back and forth as he's almost folded into himself, his hands on the back of his head, heart-wrenching screams leaving his chest, tears streaming down his bright red face, eyes completely bloodshot from the hours and hours of crying. The exhaustion catches up with him once again and he completely blacks out on the side of the road. His body can't take anymore, and it shut down completely to save himself.

A little while later he wakes up again and is very disoriented, but as he gets up the pieces fall into place. SHIELD headquarters, the drive, his nervous breakdown, everything comes back to him. And right at that moment a thought hit him, and he's mad at himself for not thinking about this sooner. ''I'm going to bring you back, darling. I can't wait to see you again,'' he says and he creates a huge dome around himself, trapping the thousands of people in Westview inside of it, but he doesn't realize it. When the dome is created he uses his magic to create a new reality within it. He walks through the streets and when he is walking past an ice cream shop, he suddenly spots a very familiar face.

''Loki? Is that you?'' you hear as the person who the voice belongs to walks out the door, and towards him. ''Y/N, you're here,'' he sighs and he pulls you in for a big hug. You're not real, but in the fake reality Loki created you are, and the two of you are still engaged to be married. He finds it hard to believe he did it, and that he's holding you in his arms once again. When you pull back you feel his lips on yours again, and it's like not a single minute had gone by since the last time you kissed. ''I love you, so much. And I can't wait to marry you,'' you tell him, and he nods. ''Neither can I, darling. I'm looking forward to it more than you'll ever know,'' he says, touching your face with his hands, rubbing circles on your cheek.

There is one thing Loki failed to notice, however. Everyone in this town that already lived there, is feeling the pain Loki is experiencing alongside him, because he trapped everyone inside his head, inside the reality he created for himself. All he notices is you, and how good it feels to have you back with him, right where you belong, and he doesn't have to feel his pain anymore. His most precious artifact is back, and he plans to never let you go, ever again. He can't go through the pain of losing you again, and he doesn't plan on doing so.

[sissylittlefeather]

A/N: here it is! I finally finished it! This could be a prequel to my other two, if you want it to be. Otherwise, it's just a fun 2nd person Elvis x fem!reader one-shot about a young and innocent Elvis on the night he becomes a man. There are most definitely historical inaccuracies, but let's just let those slide please 🥺. I'd love feedback, if you have any!

Warnings: Virgin Elvis, f/m p in v sex, fingering, lots of kissing, kind of a slow burn, unprotected sex, cussing, etc

Last thing: I'm using a gif of Austin Elvis and one of the real deal EP because you can imagine either one. Whatever makes your heart happy.

Baby, What's Your Name?

You've always been bold for a girl of your generation. Your first kiss was your idea and you haven't been "innocent" for a while now. Not that you are open and available for anyone, you just don't hold back when it comes to falling in love.

The year is 1955 and your friend Margie has begged you to come with her to a concert tonight. You have class the next day, and you take your college studies very seriously, but you figure you can still get home at a decent hour. Apparently, there's a new singer that Margie is gushing over. She's heard from other girls that he's supposed to be "something to see". Margie doesn't have much else going on; school isn't exactly her thing. She'll tell anyone who'll listen that she's only there to find a husband. You roll your eyes at this thought and go back to flipping through your closet for something to wear.

"Y/n, just pick something! We're going to be late!" Margie begs, pouting. You settle on a pink and white gingham sundress, sweeping your hair into a ponytail and tying it with a matching pink ribbon. You barely get your shoes on before Margie drags you out the door of your room on campus.

******

The crowd is almost entirely female. "Who is this guy?" You think to yourself. Oh well, no matter. Hopefully it'll be over soon and you can go home and get in bed. It's already late and it's a warm night for September. Margie is bouncing around next to you in her seat.

"Oh my gosh, I just can't wait until he comes out! Eliza said he's the cutest thing she's ever seen!" You roll your eyes again. You do that a lot around Margie. You didn't pick her to be your roommate; the university did. Still, she's been a decent friend, even if she's a little ditsy and boy crazy.

Finally, the other acts are finished and the announcer comes out to let you know this new artist is coming out.

"Please welcome to the stage Elvis Presley!"

The crowd goes absolutely insane. You start to wonder if maybe you've been studying too much. How could you not know this man that everyone else is so crazy for?

He walks out to the middle of the stage. He's wearing a pink jacket that matches the color of your dress. You're surprised to find that he's much more attractive than you imagined he would be, with his boyish smirk and black hair. You sit up a little straighter in your chair, but a group of girls has gathered in the front standing up, so you can't really see anymore from your seat.

Margie grabs your hand, "Come on! Let's go up there!"

"No, no I'm okay here."

Then he starts to sing. Your heart skips a beat and something deep in your stomach turns over. You stand up without even thinking, trying to see better. Margie takes the opportunity and grabs your hand. You don't fight back as she drags you up to the stage.

When you get close enough to really be able to see him, the thing in your stomach flip flops again. He's moving. And not just, like, tapping his foot. He's moving his legs and his hips in ways you didn't even think was possible... not in public, at least. The thing in your stomach moves deeper in your body to the place between your legs. You are drawn to him like he's got some kind of spell on you. More girls press in behind you, but thanks to Margie, you were up there pretty early and you're only one row back from the stage.

You need him. You need him to notice you and want you too. You start racking your brain for what you can do to get his attention. Every other girl around you is screaming like a fool. That won't work. They're also reaching for him like they might pull him off the stage if he gets close enough. He's moving around the stage quite a bit, but he's very careful never to get too close. If only you had something to throw... but you don't have anything in your hands, no bracelets or anything, and the ribbon from your ponytail isn't heavy enough to make it all the way to the stage. He's singing a slower song now, playing his guitar and looking around the crowd. Somehow, his blue eyes make contact with yours and your heart stops. You become acutely aware of your panties and the place on your body directly under them.

Wait. That's it! That would certainly get his attention. And you could easily get them off with the crowd surrounding you. Also, your full skirt that goes all the way to your knees will keep anyone from really knowing they're missing. You start working them down your thighs and Margie notices you wiggling next to her.

"What are you doing?!"

"Don't worry about it."

Finally, you feel your panties hit your ankles and rest on your shoes. It's nearly impossible with the crowd pressing in around you, but you manage to get them off your feet and into your hand. You take a second to thank the heavens that you were wearing pretty pink ones with lace, and not your laundry day undies. You look up to the stage, assessing how hard to throw them to make it right to where he's standing. After spending years playing baseball with your brothers as a kid, you're pretty confident you can get them there.

You take one last look at him; he's holding the mic at an angle, leaned over it and singing with his whole body. The second he finishes the song and stands up, you use all the strength in your arm and calculations you've just done and throw...

They land perfectly at his feet. You couldn't have possibly done any better if your life depended on it. Margie and the other girls directly around you stop and look at you, trying to figure out what you've thrown on the stage.

"Now, what's this?" He asks, picking your panties up from his feet and holding them up. When he realizes what they are, he blushes deeply.

"Well, that's something I didn't expect." He laughs into the mic and looks out into the audience to try to figure out who has given him such an awkward gift. The other girls are staring at you with their mouths open, so it's not hard for him to figure out. Your blush matches his, though, so he simply nods his head slightly in your direction, puts your panties in his pocket quickly and quietly, and moves on to his next song. The girls go back to screaming and you feel various others in the crowd wiggling like you did just minutes ago. Before he can even finish the song, panties are flying on stage left and right. He starts laughing, "ladies, I'm very flattered, but this is really unnecessary!"

The announcer rushes back out onto the stage, stepping between Elvis and the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley, for such a lovely show! Now, that's the end of our program for the evening, everyone. Thanks for coming out and be safe on your way home!"

You feel a little guilty for ending his set early with your panty-throwing, but you didn't make all those other girls go crazy. Still, you wish he would stay up there forever, singing and moving his hips. You're not ready for this feeling to go away. Another crazy thought enters your head. Maybe you'll try to get your panties back...

******

It wasn't hard to figure out where he is staying. There's really only one nice motel in town and the cars from his tour caravan are in the parking lot. You managed to convince Margie to go on home, so you're alone. You're a little nervous, walking into the motel office, but your boldness wins out.

"Hi. I need to know which room Mr. Presley is in."

"Yeah, you and every other girl in town."

"Right, but he asked for me. Call him. I just forgot the room number." It's a flimsy lie and you know it. The motel worker picks up the phone and dials "121".

"Never mind, I was lying. You caught me. I had to try though, right?" You chuckle softly as you back out of the office. Once you're outside, you head straight to room 121. When you get there, you have a sudden attack of nerves. It's so late at night and you're about to knock on the door of a man you've never actually met. This is crazy.

You're standing there trying to decide what to do when the door opens and he almost walks straight into you.

"Oh, I'm sorry darlin', I didn't even see you there." You're frozen to the spot, speechless at his closeness to you as he stands in the doorway of his motel room. He explains something about wanting to talk to someone about how to keep the show going, even if the crowd gets rowdy.

"But I'm not sure why I'm telling you this. Why are you here?" His brows knit together in the center of his forehead.

"Me? I'm just... well... I believe you have something of mine." Again, your boldness beats your fear and you walk past him into his room. He looks out the door and around nervously before closing it gently and turning around to face you. The curtains are pulled shut tightly and the glow from the lamps makes everything in the room kind of orange.

"Something of yours? Honey, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"Something I threw on the stage." You look him dead in the eyes, hoping he'll recognize you.

"Oh. Oh! It's you!" Thank heavens, he does recognize you. He blushes again, not as deeply this time, but the memory is affecting him.

"I do have something of yours, but I have no intention of giving them back." He smiles playfully and walks across the room to where his jacket is hanging on the back of a chair. He pulls your panties out of his jacket pocket and holds them tightly in his fist.

"The way I see it, you gave me these, fair and square."

"Well, I wasn't really thinking, and it's weird not wearing any..." you realize what you've just told him and his eyes slowly drift to just below your waist before he snaps them back up to meet your eyes again. He swallows hard and you stand there awkwardly, not sure what to say next. You walk across the room to him and reach for your panties. He holds them up high over your head and pouts.

"Do you really want them back?"

You're standing so close to him now that you can feel him breathing. Your heart is in your throat with the sensation of his closeness. You don't want your panties back. You want something else entirely.

"No..." you whisper quietly, trying to signal him that he could kiss you if he wants to, that he should kiss you.

Somehow, he reads your signals correctly and leans in slowly. He moves carefully watching for signs that this isn't what you want, but your upturned face and eyes closed softly are exactly what he's hoping for. When his lips finally touch yours, they're gentle, but soon after he drops your panties on the floor and grabs your face with both hands. His lips part yours and his tongue dips into your mouth hungrily. He moves his hands to your waist and you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a more passionate kiss. You're locked together like this for some time, kissing, before you realize his hands are shaking lightly. He pulls out of the kiss and puts his forehead on yours, breathing heavily.

"You kiss me like this much more, darlin' and I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

"I don't want you to stop."

He pulls back and looks at you, his mouth hanging open in mild shock. You can't figure out why he's so nervous. You're saying "yes" in every way you know how. He swallows again deeply and blushes a little.

"Aw, now, honey, don't say things you don't mean. I've never..."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. His nervousness is starting to make sense. He's never done this before. He's a virgin.

The realization makes you smile and you giggle a little at the thought. This man, who dances on stage like he does this every other night, has never actually been with a woman.

"Well, it's not that funny." He pouts again.

"No, I'm sorry, it's not funny at all. But if you don't want to do this, tell me now. Because I won't let you if you really don't want to." You smile reassuringly, but your body is aching for him to touch more of you.

"I didn't say I don't want to." He goes in for another deep and passionate kiss, his tongue moving in ways you'd never imagined. All you can think about is his tongue touching you in other places and that warm spot between your legs gets even warmer. He picks you up by the waist, lifting your feet off the floor just enough to carry you to the bed. Laying you gently on the bed, he stops for a second and looks at you laying there in your pink gingham dress. You prop yourself up on your elbows and kick off your shoes.

"What?"

"Nothing... I just... pink is my favorite color." He mumbles before laying on the bed next to you. You're both laying on your sides facing each other and he begins to undress you carefully, first untying the ribbon in your hair. Then he slides his hand down your back to unzip your dress. The zipper ends where your panties should be, but aren't, and as his fingers brush your skin, you tingle all over. His hand travels back up to the latch of your bra. He fumbles with it for a bit, his fingers trembling, before he finally gets it unclasped. You become keenly aware that all he has to do is slide your dress forward and down and you'll be completely naked. You can see by the bulge in his pants that he's had this thought too. You put your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek.

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"Honey, I've never been more sure of anything in my life." He pulls your dress and bra forward and off of you, standing up to drop it on the floor with your shoes. Now you can really see his hardness pushing against his pants. He takes his shirt off and you sit up to unbutton his pants, letting them drop to the floor next to the pile of your clothes.

Now you're both naked. You touch him gently and he sighs and looks up at the ceiling. After a few seconds of this, he almost can't stand it anymore, so he lays you down on the bed, crawling on top of you, still trembling, but obviously gaining confidence. He presses his lips to yours again and you rub your tongue along his bottom lip before he opens his mouth into a deeper kiss. His hand moves down your body, stopping to caress your breast and run his thumb over your nipple. His hand shakes less and less as he moves further down your torso to your hip. He rolls to the side a little and walks his fingers over to the place between your legs. You open them just enough for him to slip a finger inside you. You let out a small moan against his mouth as he moves his finger in and out and in again. You stop kissing him and look into his eyes, reaching down to his hand. Gently, you guide his thumb to the spot that makes your stomach turn over and your heart beat faster.

"Here. Do circles." He listens eagerly and does exactly as you tell him. He feels the knot harden as he massages it, so he keeps up a consistent rhythm. You lose the ability to give him further instruction-- he doesn't need it anyway-- as the pleasure builds up between your legs. You can feel yourself approaching your climax and prepare yourself for the fireworks. He's watching you so closely, taking cues from your body about what to do next. He puts his finger back in you, doing a tickling motion with his fingertip against your insides. You might burst with all the electricity flowing through your body.

"Oh! Yes! Fuck!" You cry out as the ecstatic release washes over you and you begin to pulse around his finger. He smiles widely, amused by your cussing and pleased with his ability to give you an orgasm on his first try. You're not exactly sure how he managed it, but you really don't care. You're still riding your body high. He moves his hand back to your hip and you feel your wetness on his fingers. He's kissing you again, grinding his hardness against your thigh. Despite your release, you're ready for more of him inside you. You reach down again, wrapping your hand around him softly and moving his hips to line up with yours. You put his tip against yourself and pull back from his kiss.

"Last chance to back out." He smiles and looks directly into your eyes. Then, he pushes forward with his hips, just like he did on stage, filling you entirely. The sensation almost overwhelms him and he sets his forehead on your shoulder.

"Oh fuck, baby." Now it's your turn to smile at him for cussing.

"It actually gets better." He lifts his head off your shoulder to look into your eyes and there's an excitement in his that almost makes you laugh out loud. Instead, you plant a kiss on his lips and wrap your legs around his waist. He starts to pump in and out rhythmically. You're not surprised that he's good at this part. You've seen him move on stage. Still, you know he probably won't last too long, since it's his first time, and there's more you want to show him. You release him from your legs and push him off of you and onto his back.

"Oh no baby what...?" With one leg on either side of his hips, you lower yourself onto him. He nearly loses his mind as the change in angle changes the sensation. He moans deeply and grabs your hips, guiding your movement as you ride him. His pleasure is building up and you know he's close as you slide up and down. You move faster and faster, pushing him toward his climax.

"Oh fuck, shit, fuck baby!" He yells as you feel him shudder underneath you and fill you with his warmth. He moans loudly as you move up and down a few more times to really push him over the edge. With him still inside you, you lean forward and lay on his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

"Wow, honey, that was... wow." You smile against his chest, satisfied with your work. After a good amount of time in this position, you move off of him and lay down next to him on your back. He props himself up on his elbow and turns to face you.

"How soon can we do it again?" You chuckle at his eagerness as you realize you won't be making it back to your room tonight. Suddenly, his eyebrows come together on his forehead in worry and you rearrange yourself to look him in the face, mildly concerned at his expression. You brace yourself for some kind of confession. Instead, he smiles and innocently asks:

"Baby... what's your name?"

You erupt in peals of laughter, wrapping your arms around him and rolling over on top of him. You think of the panties on the floor of his motel room, so glad that Margie dragged you to the concert tonight. This might be the beginning of something wonderful.

"My name is..."

[nalyra-dreaming]

"... And of course there are some really juicy parts in "The Tale of the Body Thief" that Jacob commented on wanting to do with Sam :) ..."

For people who haven't read books and only watch the series. Can you please tell me what this means? And what was Jacob talking about?

Sure :) "The tale of the Body Thief" deals with Lestat spiraling and deep in depression (which leads to a suicide attempt that fails because he is simply too powerful for the sun to kill him anymore), and being presented a way out, namely a (supposedly temporary) body-switch. Which… everyone warns him not to do, of course, and which he actually does, of course.

:)

Louis and Lestat are… in a weird relationship at that point. They cannot live with each other, but not without each other, and so they live separately, but visit the other regularly. Their own chairs in the other's house, literal "Netflix-and-chill" routines, and so on. They see each other often. Louis of course warns Lestat not do that switch.

(sorry, couldn't indent or quote this, the post wouldn't save, lol)

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"You're out of your mind," Louis said. "Don't be so hasty," I answered.

"You quote this idiot's words to me? Destroy him. Put an end to him. Find him tonight if you can and do away with him." "Louis, for the love of heaven . . ."

"Lestat, this creature can find you at will? That means he knows where you lie. You've led him here now. He knows where I lie. He's the worst conceivable enemy! Mon Dieu, why do you go looking for adversity? Nothing on earth can destroy you now, not even the Children of the Millennia have the combined strength to do it, and not even the sun at midday in the Gobi Desert-so you court the one enemy who has power over you. A mortal man who can walk in the light of day. A man who can achieve complete dominion over you when you yourself are without a spark of consciousness or will. No, destroy him. He's far too dangerous. If I see him, I'll destroy him."

"Louis, this man can give me a human body. Have you listened to anything that I've said."

"Human body! Lestat, you can't become human by simply taking over a human body! You weren't human when you were alive! You were born a monster, and you know it. How the hell can you delude yourself like this."

"I'm going to weep if you don't stop."

"Weep. I'd like to see you weep. I've read a great deal about your weeping in the pages of your books but I've never seen you weep with my own eyes."

"Ah, that makes you out to be a perfect liar," I said furiously. "You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!"

"Lestat, kill this creature! You're mad if you let him come close enough to you to speak three words."

__________________

(This also refers to the contested NOLA meeting right here.) Jacob called their … bickering "petty and in love". They're both not ready yet at that point.

Of course Lestat ignores the warnings and actually does the body switch, and as could be imagined the person takes off with Lestat's immortal body.

Lestat get's sick (as a mortal), and then goes to Louis to ask to be turned, so he can hunt down the thief, which then leads to one of the most raw exchanges (and iirc that power switch is what Jacob would really love to do), because Louis rejects him, though he is mightily tempted.

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"I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!" "Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?" "You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don't give me the blood . . ."

'He turned around, his face like that of a ghost, eyes wide and hideously unnatural in their beauty. "I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life." "How dare you make this choice for me!" I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging. "Don't come at me again," he said patiently. "If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don't wish to do."

"Ah, you've killed me! That's what you've done. You think I believe all your lies! You've condemned me to this rotting, Stinking, aching body, that's what you've done! You think I don't know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth."

"It isn't the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I've done."

"No, no, please." I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

"Louis," I said. "I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me." I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. "Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I'll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don't make me beg you on my knees."

I could sense the change in him, the sudden predatory glaze that covered his eyes. But what was stronger than his thirst? His will.

"No, Lestat," he whispered. "I can't do it. Even if I'm wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors are meaningless, I can't do it." I took him in my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I had made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck. He didn't move away from me. He couldn't bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me here in this misery, don't do it."

"Don't beg me anymore," he said sorrowfully. "It's useless. I'm going now. You won't see me again."

"Louis!" I held fast to him. "You can't refuse me." "Ah, but I can and I have."

_________________

…. Lestat burns down Louis' little hut after the refusal in a fit of disappointment and anger after. (Not before saving the paintings in it though coughs)

When Lestat finally gets his body back he meets Louis again in NOLA, in a church. Lestat is bitter, and jaded, Louis is just so relieved to see him.

__________________

We sat there in silence for many long moments, and then he spoke. "You burnt my little house, didn't you?" he asked in a small, vibrant voice.

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a smile, eyes still on the altar. "Besides, I was a human when I did that. It was human weakness. Want to come and live with me?"

"This means you've forgiven me?"

"No, it means I'm playing with you. I may even destroy you for what you did to me. I haven't made up my mind. Aren't you afraid?" "No. If you meant to do away with me, it would already be done."

"Don't be so certain. I'm not myself, and yet I am, and then I am not again."

Long silence, with only the sounds of Mojo breathing hoarsely and deeply in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I knew you would win. But I didn't know how."

I didn't answer. But I was suddenly boiling inside. Why were both my virtues and my faults used against me? But what was the use of it-to make accusations, to grab him and shake him and demand answers from him? Maybe it was better not to know.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I will not," I replied. "Why in the world do you want to know?" Our hushed voices echoed softly in the nave of the church. The wavering light of the candles played upon the gilt on the tops of the columns, on the faces of the distant statues. Oh, I liked it here in this silence and coolness. And in my heart of hearts I had to admit I was so very glad that he had come. Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.

I turned and looked at him. He was facing me, one knee drawn up on the pew and his arm resting on the back of it. He was pale as always, an artful glimmer in the dark.

"You were right about the whole experiment," I said. At least my voice was steady, I thought.

"How so?" No meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know. And what a comfort it was-the sight of his face, and the faint dusty scent of his worn garments, and the breath of fresh rain still clinging to his dark hair.

"What you told me, my dear old friend and lover," I said. "That I didn't really want to be human. That it was a dream, and a dream built upon falsehood and fatuous illusion and pride."

"I can't claim that I understood it," he said. "I don't understand it now."

"Oh, yes, you did. You understand very well. You always have. Maybe you lived long enough; maybe you have always been the stronger one. But you knew. I didn't want the weakness; I didn't want the limitations; I didn't want the revolting needs and the endless vulnerability; I didn't want the drenching sweat or the searing cold. I didn't want the blinding darkness, or the noises that walled up my hearing, or the quick, frantic culmination of erotic passion; I didn't want the trivia; I didn't want the ugliness. I didn't want the isolation; I didn't want the constant fatigue."

"You explained this to me before. There must have been something . . . however small. . . that was good!" "What do you think?" "The light of the sun."

"Precisely. The light of the sun on snow; the light of the sun on water; the light of the sun… on one's hands and one's face, and opening up all the secret folds of the entire world as if it were a flower, as if we were all part of one great sighing organism. The light of the sun … on snow."

I stopped. I really didn't want to tell him. I felt I had betrayed myself.

"There were other things," I said. "Oh, there were many things. Only a fool would not have seen them. Some night, perhaps, when we're warm and comfortable together again as if this never happened, I'll tell you."

"But they were not enough." "Not for me. Not now."

Silence.

"Maybe that was the best part," I said, "the discovery. And that I no longer entertain a deception. That I know now I truly love being the little devil that I am."

I turned and gave him my prettiest, most malignant smile. He was far too wise to fall for it. He gave a long near-silent sigh, his lids lowered for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "Only you could have gone there," he said. "And come back."

I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief? Who else would have plunged into the venture with such sheer recklessness? And as I thought this over, I realized what ought to have been plain to me already. That I'd known the risk I was taking. I'd seen it as the price. The fiend told me he was a liar; he told me he was a cheat. But I had done it because there was simply no other way.

Of course this wasn't really what Louis meant by his words; but in a way it was. It was the deeper truth. "Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply.

"Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say."

"You smug, cynical lying bastard," I whispered, the anger cresting in me suddenly, the blood even rushing into my face. "I needed you and you turned me away! Out in the mortal night you locked me. You refused me. You turned your back!"

The heat in my voice startled him. It startled me. But it was there and I couldn't deny it, and once again my hands were trembling, these hands that had leapt out and away from me at the false David, even when all the other lethal power in me was kept in check.

He didn't utter a word. His face registered those small changes which shock produces-the slight quiver of an eyelid, the mouth lengthening and then softening, a subtle clabbering look, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He held my accusing glance all through it, and then slowly looked away.

"It was David Talbot, your mortal friend, who helped you, wasn't it?" he asked. I nodded.

But at the mere mention of the name, it was as if all my nerves had been touched by the tip of a heated bit of wire. There was enough suffering here as it was. I couldn't speak anymore of David. I wouldn't speak of Gretchen. And I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to him and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

We sat there in silence. The soft cacophony of the city rose and fell beyond the stained-glass windows, which caught the faint glow from the street lamps outside. The rain had come again, the gentle warm rain of New Orleans, in which one can walk so easily as if it were nothing but the gentlest mist.

"I want you to forgive me," he said. "I want you to understand that it wasn't cowardice; it wasn't weakness. What I said to you at the time was the truth. I couldn't do it. I can't bring someone into this! Not even if that someone is a mortal man with you inside him. I simply could not."

"I know all that," I said.

I tried to leave it there. But I couldn't. My temper wouldn't cool, my wondrous temper, the temper which had caused me to smash David Talbot's head into a plaster wall.

He spoke again. "I deserve whatever you have to say."

"Ah, more than that!" I said. "But this is what I want to know." I turned and faced him, speaking through my clenched teeth. "Would you have refused me forever? If they'd destroyed my body, the others-Marius, whoever knew of it-if I'd been trapped in that mortal form, if I'd come to you over and over and over again, begging you and pleading with you, would you have shut me out forever! Would you have held fast?"

"I don't know."

"Don't answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know. Use your filthy imagination. You do know. Would you have turned me away?"

"I don't know the answer!"

"I despise you!" I said in a bitter, harsh whisper. "I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your little house. And nothing could save you, nothing at all."

I glared at him, at the sharp graceful angles of his imperturbable face, faintly phosphorescent against the deeper shadows of the church. How beautiful the shape of his wide-set eyes, with their fine rich black lashes. How perfect the tender indentation of his upper lip.

The anger was acid inside me, destroying the very veins through which it flowed, and burning away the preternatural blood. Yet I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't even conceive of carrying out such awful, cowardly threats. I could never have brought harm to Claudia. Ah, to make something out of nothing, yes. To throw up the pieces to see how they will fall, yes. But vengeance. Ah, arid awful distasteful vengeance. What is it to me?

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

Finally I rose slowly, stepping past him, and motioned for Mojo to wake and come.

__________________

It's all… very emotional and very raw.

The power dynamics are inverted. There is history between them. Petty and helpless love, too. Desire, passion, anger, love, hate, you name it.

Just thinking about Sam and Jacob doing this gives me the shivers.

(As a side note, we have "artful glimmer in the dark" here as a description for Louis, calling back to "spark in the dark".)

Louis moves in with Lestat (and David) once more after this, into the renovated Rue Royale.

It's where he lives until the events after Merrick, after which they abandon Rue Royale, and Louis goes to Armand to New York for a while until the court is created in the Auvergne.