#i wondered where the fuck she pulled those vocals from and i was so damn proud

[cirque-dhomosexual]

I don't know what crack and ambrosia they put into this song but holy shit Paradise Valley by Honey and the Sting is so fucking good.

[s0lam33y]

Chapter 5: Earned It

summary: you can finally speak to Shuri but while you’re just sorting things out with her, it seems like a friend of yours’s love life just might be unraveling.

☎️: @xchoxix @6-noir @goldqueen12 @likemick @pocketsizedpanther @jordisblogg @imnotb @desswright29 @thtgirlllmona @euph0ricx0

7: 01 AM

Back in College, you had talking stages, and flings, and you had stopped for a while throughout medical school. You just hadn’t had the time, you only had one serious relationship. One that broke down after three months. It seems like the same thing has happened with Shuri.

You refuse to be the other woman and after she came over four days ago, you had told her to get it together.

You woke up this morning to a text from her that you’re currently glaring at as you walk down the hall towards Riri’s room. Her room is full of posters, photos of her family, and a small desk full of files that she’s yet to get to. There’s a small speaker next to her, playing some music and her room is full of light due to her having pulled the curtains back the night before.

Roscoe lays on the small bean bag beside her, looking up at you like you’ve done something wrong.

You find Riri lying on her back and you think that maybe the dark spots across her stomach are shadows but you rub your eyes once and then a second time. Those dark spots are purple hue- with red undertones. They’re scattered all across and because of the boy shorts she has on you see them on her thighs too.

“Oh my God, Are those hickeys?” You question as you poke her awake. She’s disoriented once she wakes you and she looks down at where your eyes are trained and then back at you before groaning.

“Fuck off.” She sighs as she pulls her blanket to cover her entire body. Riri’s never been vocal about her love life at all. Ever since Medical school every single hookup as far as you know, she’s kept hidden until it’s been over. So now that you’ve finally caught her red-handed. you feel a sense of accomplishment.

“No fuckin’ way. Who are you fucking?” You gasp as you sit at the foot of her bed. She doesn’t even offer you a blink as she turns around to lay on her back, which doesn’t help once her hoodie rides up her body, revealing the dimples in her back and scratch marks scattered all over the skin there.

“Dude, who is it?” You laugh again as she pulls her clothing down.

“Y/N, fuck off” She sighs, breathing in through her nose. You don’t let up though, you continue to push and shove her until she’s finally fully awake. Sleep marks cover her face and everything makes sense, her constant leaving in the middle of the night, her short calls, her baggy clothing.

“Who is it?” You question while shaking her shoulders. She glares at you before yawning and sits up.

“I ain’t telling you my business…” She refuses as she crosses her arms, still ridden by sleep. Whoever she’s been with has been wearing her out. She’s been yawning in the mornings, half asleep whenever you hold a conversation, and sleeping way earlier than she usually does. You’ll find out even if she doesn’t tell you.

“I’m glad you’re getting something.” You grin. She raises an eyebrow before speaking.

“What? Udaku ain't putting it down?” She wonders while stretching her arms out.

“No, I wish but I think she has a girlfriend or a wife, I don’t care.” You sigh. It doesn’t sting as bad as you expect but damn you liked her. You watch Riri’s eyebrows knit together as she sits up.

“Fuck you mean by that?”

You look at your phone and hand Riri the phone so she can check out the text messages.

- Y/N I can explain. It’s not what you think it is.

Shuri

“She came over that one day that you were working overtime in the pit. We were hanging out, drinking a couple of beers, We made out, her phone rang and there was this woman on the line. She went home right after so yes, I think I’m her side piece.” You grumble. Just thinking about it makes you sick. Riri hands you your phone back and leans back on her elbows.

“Ion know, Y/N. Ion think you the side, She probably doesn’t talk to too many women, She always working. Respond to her texts, we gon have to see her at work anyway.” Riri replies which shocks you. You expect her to agree with you and if anything wanting to cuss the surgeon out. But she might be right.

“Yeah, maybe.”

11: 01 AM

You’ve completed your rounds and now all that’s left is some paperwork. You’ve somehow avoided Shuri all day despite itching to see her again. You feel bad with the way things left off not only that you’ve been ignoring her for the past four days. You step out of the elevator, the same one she was in you with not too long ago only to find her speaking to an intern. She’s leaned back against a nurse station, her eyes cast away from the figure before her and hands stuffed in her lab coat. You watch a woman speaking to her, with long brown hair and a chiseled jaw. She’s pretty, dressed in a lab coat and slacks paired with a blouse. Shuri doesn’t look like she’s making any advances, hell if anything she looks awkward as hell.

“I’m not sure…Maybe she’s somewhere nearby.” You hear Shuri say, her voice unusually chirpy. Her eyes shift up like she always knew you were standing there. Her eyes soften almost immediately and you know that you can’t ignore her all the time. You’ll have to talk to her at some point anyway whether it’s to approve something or to verify a chart so you approach her after the woman walks away, her heels clicking and clacking as she does. Shuri’s eyes aren’t steady, nearly resembling a kid left alone at the supermarket before she meets your gaze. You smell strong perfume from the woman who had just been standing in your place.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just, I don’t know if you have another person or something, I just needed to figure it out and If you do I would’ve appreciated it if you had told me beforehand.” You blurt before she has the chance to speak. A small smile graces her face, she looks amused like a kid that got into a jar of cookies.

“Y/N, I’m not seeing anyone. It was a family friend that I’d been…ignoring for some time. I was shocked when she picked up, it’s a long story-”

“That you’ll tell me at some point.”

“I swear, I will. I’ll tell you now if you don’t believe me, it’s just a lot to unpack,” She admits and by the way she pauses to take a deep breath, it has to be heavy. But you want to know more about her, you want more of the night you had not too long ago.

“We can have a re-do.” You suggest, almost chuckling at the way you sound. Her eyes glimmer with something that you don’t know just yet.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Her pager goes off and she glances at it before speaking.

“Maybe respond to my texts so we can plan that,” She quips before walking away.

5: 23 PM

Pulling 10-hour shifts has never been your thing but your necessities won’t pay themselves and luckily you only have an hour or so. You’ve been in Shuri’s office for the last 45 minutes or so, it’s been as professional as it gets while you discuss a future operation. But it’s you and Shuri. You can’t really be professional, can you?

She always teased you for having a staring issue but if she thought it was bad it’s much worse now. Luckily, you aren’t close since you sitting across from her desk but she looks good. She looks the same way she always does, with navy scrubs and a lab coat but it’s been a long time since you’ve been able to stop and admire her. She’s leaned back in her seat, legs spread and her elbows resting on the arms of the chair. One of her hands grips a stress ball, squeezing it.

“I think it’s a good plan, Y/N, are you with me?” She questions but that isn’t what pulls you out of your thoughts, a harsh knock on her door does. She sits up straight and so do you while adjusting to look at the door.

Dr. Vision walks through the door, her silky hair pulled into a high ponytail. There’s no easygoing on her smile, instead, a stone-faced expression replaces it. She crosses her arms with gentle bags settling beneath her brown eyes.

“Did you see her?” Vision questions, pacing back and forth like you aren’t even in the room. You look back at Shuri, whose eyes are on the concerned trauma surgeon.

“Yeah, she asked where you were and all I said was that you may be nearby.” Shuri shrugs. The woman she was talking to earlier before you approached her. You don’t know her but you remember her glossy lips and strong perfume. It smelled expensive like samples from a Gucci collection that you aren’t the biggest fan of.

“Oh my God…Then she’s still here, she has to be.” Vivian panics while rubbing her neck.

“Who?” You ask out of pure confusion.

“My ex-wife, It’s a long story, She left me ‘cause I work too often—I don’t have time to explain, I need to get her the hell out of here.” Vivian murmurs, more to herself than you or Shuri. You had no idea she was previously married, nor would you have expected that but you wonder why Riri never mentioned it. Again, She’s never been one to meddle in other people’s business.

“Why are you so worried? Deal with her, You have bigger and better things to do with your time. She came back because she knew you’d panic, You can’t let that get to you, Vision.” Shuri says from behind her. There’s bluntness packed in her tone but you’re aware that she has good intentions.

“Right, I know it’s just irritating.” And with that, she’s out the door.

6:20 PM

Truth be told, You were hoping to be able to hold back with Shuri. You told yourself that if you ever forgave her for the stunt she pulled she’d have to earn her way back. But she’s too much fun to be around. Too charismatic. So much so that she’s decided to walk you to you car.

“You should let me scrub in,” You suggest as both of you walk towards the elevator. She has a new case that every intern wants including her favorite one. She smirks as her tattooed hand clutches the strap of her leather messenger bag. She cocks her head to the side like she needs much thought. You’ve noticed that she just might be as whipped as you are.

“That would be favoritism and I don’t think the other interns would appreciate that now would they?” She asks as the elevator dings open. You find Riri standing in the back of it, dressed in her usual baggy clothing and a hand stuffed into her pocket. Her resting face isn’t the most approaching but she looks absolutely pissed off.

“Hey, Ri.” You say while offering her a smile. You haven’t seen her all day and she usually has some sort of joke to crack but she doesn’t not once. You feel Shuri’s eyes on you before you both turn around to face the elevator door.

It dings again and this time Vivian steps in. You swear the energy shifts in the elevator once the woman that Shuri was speaking to earlier steps in as well. The ex-wife, you’re assuming. You do your best not to make it obvious when you slowly turn your head to look at Riri. You can practically feel her eyes boring into the couple and it surely doesn’t help when their fingers interlock. Shuri shifts on her feet, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion at the action.

The elevator finally fucking stops and you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. Vivian and the mystery wife are the first ones to move to the side to let you and Shuri out, Riri quickly following. Vivian opens her mouth and you watch her force her own mouth shut when she and Riri lock eyes.

Riri doesn’t say bye to you and you choose not to take it seriously. She needs space when she’s pissed off and by the looks of it, She’s pissed off. The last thing you want is to feel the effects of it.

“I’ll see you, Udaku.” Vivian breathes out with an awkward smile. Her confidence and slyness seem to be gone.

“Mhm;” Shuri hums in response. She seemed rather caring earlier and the coldness you see with other colleagues is back. There’s too much tension in the air, so you wait until you’re both outside of the hospital to speak.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, finally being able to hold her hand. Her face softens at your touch.

“Nothing, I’ll explain when we get to my place.”

“Oh, so that’s where we going?”

“Are you complaining?”

You can move slow some other time, She’s earned her spot back.

[jadequeen88]

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Hi

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

 Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying. 

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv. 

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest. 

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in. 

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?” 

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips. 

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else. 

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

[urimaginespimp]

How You Get The Girl (This Love Final Part)

Bucky x Reader (elemental witch)

Set on TFATWS last episode

Note: Thank you to everyone that's tuned in, gave feedbacks, and liked/reblogged. I had to so much fun writing these! After this I’ll be working on oneshots completely unrelated to this story of several prompts.

We got a new Cap!

Previous Part: Untouchable

Marvel Masterlist

--------

“I’m serious, Shuri. I am over him.” you groaned as Shuri won’t wipe off the smug, disbelieving look on her face.

“Sure, Jan.” She replied getting up to continue on what’s she’s working on.

“Hey, I know that reference!”

“I’m just saying... Seven years of pinning over the guy – which five of it was when he was practically dead, by the way – and you’re telling me it took one confrontation for you to get over him.” She shrugged.

Some of the Dora Milaje were also in the lab, and you haven’t been vocal about it, but you didn’t miss the knowing looks they’ve been exchanging every time Bucky was brought in the conversation.

“Well, it would really be nice if you’re being supportive right now.” you sulked in your seat. Yeah, who were you kidding. Maybe you’re not completely, completely over him, but now you’re sorting to the fake it ‘til you make it method and so far, you’re doing well.

“Okay, fine. Want me to set you up with someone? My brother has some contacts around the world and I think with some buttering up he’d consider setting you up to bachelor royalties.” She wiggled her brows at you.

“May I suggest the Prince of Brunei? The internet says he’s looking for a wife.” One of the ladies snickered, making the others hum in approval.

“T’Challa knows him?” this piqued your interest. “He’s pretty hot.”

“Well make up your mind. It’ll take me a few business days of persuading my brother.” She raised her brows at you.

“It wouldn’t hurt to start dating. I’ll think about it first.” you muttered, missing how Shuri winked at the other ladies in the room. Ayo had told her in private about Bucky’s little confession to Zemo, and the princess has a few tricks up her sleeve to speed up the matchmaking process.

“I’m only staying for a few days more. It’s been a few weeks and Val’s been complaining from lack of sleep.” She’s been taking over your nightly escapades, and it’s starting to irritate her to be surrounded with so much booze but not being able to indulge.

Just then, Okoye enters the lab. “Check the news. There’s a live coverage of a hostage in New York. Sam and White Wolf are on it.”

--------

Bucky was looking over proudly as Sam was talking to the Senator.

Seeing Sam now walking over to him, he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I uh was texting and all I heard was um a black guy in stars and stripes.”

They both chuckled, now walking side by side. “Nice job, Cap.”

“Thanks.”

--------

He’s done it. He told Yori the truth. Though now that might have been the end of their friendship, he knew the old man deserves the closure for his son.

Now back in his apartment, he took the notebook Steve once owned from his pocket, and opened it to the page where his list is. Looking over it, he saw that the only name left uncrossed is yours.

Just then, his phone pinged twice. One message was from Sam, and the other one from Shuri.

Sam’s read:

I wasn’t kidding when I told you

back on the boat that I’d get the

younger ones here to give you a

crash course on romance.

Check your email.

He rolled his eyes and opened the one from Shuri.

Y/N’s explained everything to us.

We saw you save those people,

White Wolf. Wakand is proud of you.

Brother says you’re welcome to

visit anytime. Take care!

p.s.

It’s good to know Y/N and you are

are on good terms. It finally allowed me

to set her up with one of the princes

mother’s been pestering me about. One less

off of mother’s list for me.

“Damn it, Shuri.” he groaned, reading the last part over and over again. He had to move fast. Heading over to his email, he opened the one from Sam.

The subject says:

21st century romance for reformed dummies.

There was an attached 60-second video. Clicking on it, he chuckled when Sam’s voice started booming behind the camera, where it showed two young girls and one boy, all around below 10 years of age.

“Okay, I gathered you here today because a cyborg friend of mine is need of help. I already filled you in the details necessary earlier, and all you have to do now is give him quick tips. Remember, talk slow.”

The boy on the middle spoke up. “Is she an avenger?”

“Not important, but yes. It’s the one with similar powers to an avatar.” Sam answered, followed by the two girls saying they know which one, and the boy to mutter ‘damn it I always had a crush on her...’

“Okay the first step would obviously be to say sorry.” the girl on the right said directly to the camera.

“Oh! Extra points if you do it standing like a ghost outside her door and it’s about to rain.” the other girl from the left perked up.

“I said he’s a cyborg, not a weatherman.” Sam commented, still behind the camera.

“Say you were afraid to tell her what you want.” the first girl spoke again.

“Six months is a long time to be afraid, man.” the boy in the middle spoke up this time.

“Try years.” Sam muttered.

“Then you say you want her for worse or for better!” The cheery girl exclaimed once again.

“You’ve been playing too many fake weddings, but yes, that could work.” Sam told her, making her beam, showing a missing tooth.

“Tell her you could wait forever and ever.” the boy added.

“I mean he’s already old enough to be your great grandpa but go on I guess.” Sam was snickering, causing the camera to slightly shake.

“Remind her of how it used to be. That is if he was good to her.” the more mature girl was pointing out. “Saying you’ll put her heart back together could also work.” she smiled, and the other one fake swooned on where she was standing.

“She’s right!” she exclaimed, while boy nods and says “that’s how it works.” at the same time.

Now turning the camera, Sam was now in frame.

“And that’s how you get the girl, Barnes. Straight from the local’s experts. Don’t fuck it up.”

And three voices scolded him for saying a bad word as the clip ends.

--------

It didn’t take long for him to take a flight straight to Norway where New Asgard was. This time without the aid of Zemo’s jet, he had to find the means to travel from the airport, while trying to calm his nerves.

As if the universe was on his side, a couple claiming to be heading back to Asgard allowed him to hitch a ride with them.

Now on the backseat, he tried to make small talk.

“So, uh, how are you guys settling in the planet?” he asked.

The lady on the passenger seat turned to face him with a smile. “It wasn’t easy, really. But the princess went out of her way to educate us about life here on Midgard. She’s so good at it, you’d forget she hasn’t even been living here a decade.”

He smiled. They claim you as their princess despite only being adopted by Thor. He recalls how you once rambled about being scared that they’d be indifferent towards you once Thor brings you to Asgard, one of the reasons you’ve been making up excuses to go with him.

“Why, would you look at that. We’re just in time before it starts raining.” The man driving commented.

Peeking through the window, sure enough, the sky was getting darker.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he muttered. He might just take the little girl’s advice after all.

After getting out of the couple’s car, he ran straight to where he remembers your home was, just in time when Val just got out of your house.

“Hi. I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Bucky.” He greeted extending his ahand to her which she took. A skeptical look on her face.

“Call me Val. I’m sorry what are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to Y/N, please.” He answered truthfully.

“Well it’s about night time so she’s getting dolled up.” She answered

“I know, I know, it’s for her date. But that’s why I’m here.”

Val raised a brow, confused about what date he was getting all bummed about when you were only getting ready to go back to looking out for people out and about at night. But then it dawned to her that maybe this was some of your friend’s doing.

“Y-yes... the date.” She decided to play along, holding back a smirk. Just then, rain started slowly pouring, along with thunder. “Well shit, I have to help some folks get their kids back inside their homes now. You’re free to knock on her door.” She excused herself.

His own clothes were starting to get drenched when he finally knocked on your door.

No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Now footsteps were heard coming to the door, and the knob turned as you opened it.

“Damn it, Val, the door’s not even lo-” You stopped talking, surprised at the figure that greeted you.

“Bucky... are you insane? Don’t just stand there, come in it’s raining hard.” he urged him to get in and closed the door behind you.

Facing each other, he was taking you in. Val wasn’t lying when she said you were getting ready for your date. He can’t believe he was already getting jealous of a faceless punk.

“So uh... what brings you here?” You decided to break the ice, fidgeting where you stood, still barefoot as it looked like you were gonna have to stay at home if it was going to rain this hard all night.

“Don’t go on the date.” he pleaded, confusing you.

“What?”

“Please don’t go on the date.” He repeated, now walking towards you.

There is no date, but now you were wondering why he’s telling you not to.

“Why?”

“I love you.” he answered without missing a beat, now stepping closer to you. Instead of the reaction he was hoping for, you scoffed and took a step back.

“Don’t pull a Laurie on me.” you replied, a frown etched on your face. He was confused.

“A Laurie?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen enough adaptations of Little Women to know that you’re pulling a Laurie on me.” You spat as a matter of fact. “You’re being really mean, stop it.” you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“What? I- I haven’t even thought of that reference!” he defends himself, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. “Amy was gonna get married, Y/N.”

“Oh then by all means, feel free to come back just after he proposes.”

“W- We’re getting sidetracked here, doll. I came here hoping there still an ounce of you that loves me. Please don’t tell me you’ve completely moved on from me.”

“What, like it’s hard?” you replied. It surprised you when his brows shot up from recognition of that line.

“Now you’re pulling an Elle Woods on me!” he pointed at you in an accusatory manner.

“Don’t point that finger at me, Barnes. How was I even supposed to know you’ve seen that movie?” you rolled your eyes, walking past him.

“I watched all the movies you told me about back in Wakanda.” he spoke up, making you stop in your tracks to face him again.

“Yeah, that’s right. I watched every movie, I listened to every song, read every book you recommended, and visited every internet site you once said I might like. I was always listening even when I made it seem like I wasn’t.”

You stared at him for a second looking for any indication that he was lying. Recovering from the mild shock, you pursed your lips. “I hope you know the Porn site was a joke. Sam did it to Steve once and I just thought it was hilarious.”

His mouth twitched. Walking over to you once more he stopped when he was only a step away, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m really sorry, Doll. I know it’s bold of me to even ask you, but please give me the chance to make it up to you. And I don’t care if it’s me that has to wait for you this time. Take all the time you need, just please don’t go on that date.”

“Bucky, there was never a date. I have no idea what date you were referring this entire time.” you confessed, making him bring his hands to his face and groan, muttering Damn it, Shuri.

Hearing Shuri’s name, you put two and two together. “Is this about Shuri trying to set me up with a prince?” he nodded as answer. “Well, I did tell her I was gonna think about it.”

He removed his hands away from his face. “Please say no.” He whispered. “I’d tell you what the kids told me what to say if I have to.”

“What kids?”

“Sam got a bunch of kids on video to teach me how to win you back. I’ve already stood under the rain outside your door just like what one of the girls suggested.” Judging from the grin on your face, he was now regretting even mentioning them.

“Well go on, then.” you urged. “Let me see how much you’ve learned.”

“The first time I saw you at the airport, I got so distracted looking at you just casually sitting on top if the ramps while we were preparing to fight. That wink you sent me that day is still engraved in my mind by the way. Then I was so taken back when you bluntly told me you’re attracted to me. I-”

“I don’t think the kids taught you to remind me of my attempts to flirt with you.” You cut him off, embarrassed at the memory. He chuckled at your expression.

“Okay, okay.” he took a deep breath.

“I think I started catching feelings for you the moment they woke me up from my cryosleep and you were there to be the first one to welcome me back. I didn’t think you were still gonna be there like you told me. But you were there, beaming at me like a ray of sunshine. All my years under HYDRA, every time I was woken up, I was only ever treated as an asset. But you welcomed me like I was a friend.” his eyes were starting to get glassy with tears, as he tried not to choke up.

“And then every time you were near, or even when I’d get a whiff of your perfume, I’d start feeling all warm inside and my entire body would be at ease, knowing you were an arm's reach from me. You were the last one I saw as I disintegrated from the blip, and you were the first one I sought out the moment we came back.” he was surprised when you reached forward to wipe away a tear he didn’t even realize had run down his cheek.

“I lied when I said I made a mistake kissing you. It was the first thing I wanted to do the moment I saw you again. But something inside me was always telling me that all I could ever be is someone grateful for your kindness. That it was impossible for the universe to even grant me someone like you after everything I’ve done." He let out a breath before continuing.

"But it was also you, Steve, Sam, and heck – even Zemo– that made me realize that I am worthy of a chance. And I’m sorry it had to take you telling me you were moving on, to have the courage to accept and take the chance that has been long offered to me by the world." He took your hand and gave the back of it a small kiss.

"I love you, Y/N.” Now it was him that had to wipe away your tears away. “Please don’t cry, doll. That wasn’t-”

“Just fucking kiss me already, James.” you laughed, in between sniffles.

He grinned down before you. “You’re my angel with a potty mouth, and I love you.” he whispered, leaning down.

“I love you too."

---------

You and Bucky were out with the Wilsons on their community's afternoon barbeque.

Sarah and you got along with ease, and she was telling you all about their old family business when Bucky hugged you from behind.

"Sorry to interrup, ladies, but I have to show you something Y/N." he said, kissing your cheek.

"Ew, man. I still can't believe your old ass has a girlfriend." Sam commented beside Sarah who was laughing

"You do know I'm older than him, right?" you chuckled.

"I know, but you don't look it." he replied, causing Bucky to flip him off.

Excusing yourself, both of you walked by the docs.

"What's up, old man?" you grinned at him.

"You know what, doll. Most couples would have endearing nicknames for each other."

"I'll call you something sweet once you tell me what that thing you call me when we're alone means."

"What, мое солнце?"

"Yeah, that one! Tell me or else I'll keep calling you ridiculous ones." you threatened, trying not to smile.

"Anyway, мое солнце, I just wanted to show you a text I got from Shuri."

I am yet to have any news that you

manned up and told Y/N you love her,

White Wolf. I was joking before, but now

I really might set her up on a date.

You both chuckled at Shuri's threat.

"I got this." you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialled her number. You placed it on loud speaker once she picked up.

"Y/N! So nice of you to call."

"Hey, Shuri! Listen..." you feigned seriousness in your voice before releasing a deep breath. "I'm finally over Mr. Smokey eye. I think I'm ready to go on that date now." Bucky was playfully glaring at you for the nickname.

There was dead silence from the other side of the line for a second. "Oh! About that... uh turns out he already has a girlfriend. Planning to propose soon, I heard. Oops!"

"Well that's a bummer. How about the other bachelor royalties your family's friends with? I recently found an article with a list. I can send you one right now. Preferably ones that don't look much like blue-eyed grandpa." you grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. He knows what you were trying to get him to do.

"Uh... turns out my brother isn't that friendly after all." She let out an awkward laugh. "Hasn't Barnes contact you at all?" you could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Oh, that discount prophet, I haven-"

"It means my sun." He finally caved, rolling his eyes.

"What?" you asked him, immidiately forgetting that Shuri was still on.

"WHAT?" she screamed through the phone after a second.

"мое солнце means my sun." he grinned at you.

"Is that Barnes with you?! Hellooo?!!!"

"Talk to you later, princess." you turned off the call when she was about to protest. Facing him again, you stepped closer and put your arms around his shoulders, both of you sharing a grin.

"I love you, мое солнце."

"I love you too, minn stjarna."

"You gonna tell me what that means?"

"You wish."

fin.

--------

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @eliwinchester-barnes @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker @drama-queen-aa

[rowanaelinn]

Kinktober - Day Two (Sensory Depravation)

As Rowan tightened the ropes, his heartbeat so fast he thought he was going to die. When he looked down at his fireheart, lying almost naked in their bed, her arms tied at the top of their bed with ropes he carefully bound around her wrist. The ropes were tight enough that she couldn't move but not enough to hurt her. If Aelin pulled on them hard enough, they would break.

Seeing her this way, submissive for him, got him so hard it was almost painful. He cherished the knowledge his queen was fierce and strong but when it was just the two of them, she allowed herself to be seen as something else.

Ever since the end of the war, Rowan had been careful around her. All of his movements were calculated, he thought about everything so his queen wouldn’t be scared. She hid it well, but he could see how she flinched when a door was opened too sharply or when there was a loud unexpected noise.

So they had strictly made love, Rowan refusing himself to be too rough with her, too careless. So he allowed them only two positions, him on top of her and her on top of him when she needed the control. Never taking it too far, always keeping his hands gentle.

But when Aelin realized what he was doing, that he was holding back, hell had been unleashed in their chambers. She had been so mad at the simple thought of him thinking she was weak, but she had been so wrong.

Even in those early days in Mistward, he had never thought of her as weak, never. A coward, yes, but not weak.

So Aelin told him she wasn’t broken, that she was healing, and she wanted, no, needed him to treat her like he once did.

That’s how they ended up this way, Aelin in an almost sheer white nightgown, her wrist tied up above her and her arousal so strong Rowan was sure people in other rooms could smell it.

He was scared out of his wits to hurt her, but whatever his Fireheart wanted, his Fireheart shall have.

“Are you sure?” He asked a last time, needing to be sure.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, buzzard, I’m going to see Fenrys and ask him to do it instead.” She said, tearing a groan out of Rowan. No matter how hard he worked to keep his jealousy to himself, Aelin saw right through him.

Instead of saying something snarky, Rowan let go of the ropes and went on top of her, kissing his wife. He knew her body was sore from the three orgasms he had given her moments before, one with his fingers and two with his tongue. She had been crying out so loudly half of Terrasen would have heard her if it wasn’t for his shield around their room.

She had kept the nightgown on, per his request, and he loved it as he roamed his hands all over her body, the fabric almost as soft as her skin.

His knees on both sides of her body, Rowan took off his shirt, appreciating Aelin’s heated gaze on his body. But instead of throwing it across the room, he tore off two large sections of the shirt, throwing the rest to the floor.

Aelin’s brow was raised, her breathing ragged. He could see the wheels turning in that wicked mind of hers, wondering what he was going to do.

Rowan knew they didn’t have a lot of time left before dinner so he didn’t waste time before wrapping a part of the shirt around her head, using it as a blindfold, just where her eyes were so she was plunged into darkness.

Aelin swore lowly when Rowan parted her lips with his thumb and placed the other piece of clothing in her mouth, tying it in the back of her head as he did with the one around her eyes.

Rowan bent, his lips brushing her pointy ears. “It’s going to be very simple, Aelin. You move, I stop. You made a sound, I stop. Nod if you understand.”

Aelin nodded frankly, her heart beating faster than before. Happy with her answer, Rowan stood up and took off his pants and undershorts. He could drag it longer, he knew, but he was so turned on at seeing her this way he was very close to his own climax.

Going back on the bed, he parted her legs making the gown rise higher, exposing her. He was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he didn’t think he would ever get enough of her, didn’t think he would ever be tired of seeing her this way.

——————

Aelin held back from flinching every time she felt like something was brushing her skin. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t touch anything. The only thing she could do was feel.

It was harder than she thought it’d be to keep her moans to herself when Rowan’s fingers found her soaked core, starting to play with her.

She was still sensitive from what Rowan had done before, she knew he knew this but he didn’t care, one of his fingers playing with her clit as another found her entrance.

That’s what she had asked him to, she had begged him to be rough with her. To use her.

She didn’t want what happened to her in Doranelle to have consequences on her relationship with Rowan as it did on everything else in her life. She wouldn’t let her marriage suffer from this.

When a second finger slid into her heat, Aelin couldn’t help a moan. Rowan stopped the movement of his fingers exactly as he said he would. She wanted to apologize just so he could keep going but he had said to be quiet, so she would be.

Rowan pulled his fingers out and parted her legs even wilder. She felt his hardness brushing her most sensitive part, it took a lot of biting on that damn shirt to keep her noises to herself.

He didn’t enter her like she thought he would, instead his teeth nipped at her ears. She turned her head, making things easier for him. “You’re a bad girl, you know that?”

Slowly, his hand trailed up her body to end up on her neck, squeezing lightly. He had known she liked it since their moment on that boat, right after they got married.

“Do you know that?” He asked, his hand squeezing the side of her neck a little rougher. Aelin nodded, not sure if she was supposed to answer vocally or not. “I’m going to fuck you know, and you’re going to take it without a word. Okay?”

Once again she nodded, and the second after, his cock was at her entrance. In a mighty thrust, he entered her.

As he let her adjust, Aelin could feel his wind at her ears. Seconds later, she couldn’t hear anything else, most of her senses assaulted by him. He just took off her capacity to hear with his magic and she loved it.

He started moving, his hardness hitting everything deep spots that made her want to scream. She wished she could hear him, hear his little groans and moans whenever she could clench around him. She wished she could see how his eyes rolled in the back of his head when he started thrusting into her quicker.

But this, her imagination going crazy as Rowan was working her higher, was almost as good as seeing him and hearing him.

His hands tore her nightgown apart, freeing her breast. One of his hands came to play with one and his mouth found her nipple. He licked, blew, and licked again. When her nipple was hard enough for him, he bit her.

Aelin fell over the edge at the sharp feeling of pain assaulting her as much as pleasure did at the same time. She probably wasn’t quiet or still, but Rowan kept thrusting into her, probably too lost in his own pleasure.

When Aelin came down from her high, she was able to hear again, and that she did when Rowan came loudly, his head falling in the crook of her neck. The thought of him coming inside of her made her want to come again, but they both knew she was done for now.

Rowan didn’t take time to come down from his own high, untying her and freeing her face from the two pieces of his shirt.

When she was free of movement, Aelin rose on her knees and threw herself on his lap, kissing her husband as passionately as she could, their tongues dancing at a lazy rhythm. “I love you,” She breathed in his mouth, he only kissed her harder.

—————

taglist: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove

[ragingpancake]

Hotel California

A/N: An Earthside AU wherein John is a college student on his way to Spring Break and Rodney is a hotel receptionist. NC-17. Reposted from my old AO3 account.

The midnight sky is gray and muggy, thick with heat and humidity. The air conditioner stopped working over a hundred miles ago and even the air flowing through the open windows isn't enough to cool the sweat beading on John's forehead.

In the passenger seat, Teyla's stretched out, humming along quietly with the static on the radio as Ronon sleeps on in the backseat, oblivious to each passing mile.

John reaches out and changes the station.

"I was listening to that," Teyla says dryly as the low twang of a country guitar fills the car. John gives her a sleepy smile in return and thumps his fingers against the steering wheel, drumming along with the beat in a last ditch effort to keep himself awake. "Perhaps it would be wise if I took over for awhile?"

"I'm good," John says dismissively. He trusts Teyla's driving almost as much as he trusts her cooking, which is to say not at all.

"I have been practicing."

"Not nearly enough for my liking," John says, grinning to take the sting out of the words.  Teyla just rolls her eyes and goes back to staring out at the endless stretch of empty highway in front of them.

Driving out to California in Ronon's grandfather's beat up old station wagon hadn't been John's best idea. He's cutting two full days off their spring break with the drive there and back, but since Teyla had apparently grown up under a rock and had never taken a road trip, John and Ronon decided that their yearly trip to Long Beach was the perfect remedy.

"If you will not let me drive, maybe you would at least consider stopping for the night? We still have another five hours ahead of us and I would like to make it alive."

"Your faith in me is astounding."

"Much like your faith in me," she smirks. "Now please, find the nearest motel and pull over. I'm sick of looking at the inside of this car."

John can't argue with that.

---

It's another twenty miles and another state line until he finds a motel and by the time he climbs out of the car, he has to admit that stopping was definitely the right call; there's no way he would have made it another four hours and forty minutes.

Ronon grunts and snorts as Teyla smacks him awake. He's annoyed that they've stopped and he wants to take over driving so they can keep going, but John trusts his driving less than he trusts Teyla's. He's seen what Ronon has done to the trash cans outside of their apartment just trying to back out of the parking space.

"It's stupid to stop," Ronon grumbles as they trudge into the lobby of the seemingly deserted motel.

"I would rather get a few hours of solid sleep and then hit the road. If we continue to drive, we will be no good for anything tomorrow," Teyla says solemnly.

"Don't need sleep to surf."

"This is true, but I need sleep to finish the drive, so I say we're staying and sleeping," John says. Ronon stands just a little straighter and blinks lazily at John in what's most likely an attempt to intimidate him. It would work under other circumstances maybe, but John's just too tired to care so he waves Ronon off and slouches against the front desk, slapping his hand down on the bell.

It reverberates, echoing throughout the empty lobby.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hold your horses, I'm coming." The voice comes out of nowhere and whoever it belongs to sounds annoyed at the interruption. Seconds later, a skinny kid stomps out from behind a curtain, looking harassed and harried. He's wearing a pair of dark slacks that are at least a size too big and a white uniform shirt that's partially untucked and stained. His name tag reads 'Rodney'. "What do you want?"

"You get many people in here lookin' for something other than a room?" John drawls lazily.

Rodney snorts. "You'd be surprised. Double beds or...?"

John grins. "Double."

John watches as his fingers fly over the keyboard seemingly of their own accord. "Unfortunately, the only available room I have is a king with a pull out couch. Sorry." He doesn't sound very sorry about that.

It's not ideal, but John's exhausted and he'll be damned if he's getting back in that car. At least not until he's had a good five hours of sleep.

"John," Teyla says.

"We'll take it."

"Suit yourself. That'll be thirty five for the night."

John makes quick work of paying Rodney but he has to force himself to ignore the slight tingle when the tips of their fingers brush together. It has nothing to do, he tells himself, with the kissably crooked mouth or the hair that's curled almost delicately just above the nape of Rodney's pale neck.

Rodney stares at John for just a moment too long and John knows that he felt it too, but he pushes the thought out of his mind. "Right," Rodney says, clearing his throat. "If you'll just... follow me, I'll take you to your room."

It isn't easy, John thinks, to not stare at the barely-there outline of Rodney's ass. The baggy pants do a good job at concealing what's really underneath, but John sees enough to know what he wouldn't mind sliding into it.

He's halfway hard when Rodney slips the key card into the lock and pushes the door open. The hotel room is as nondescript and boring as every other hotel he's ever stayed in and after a quick once over, John's eyes return to Rodney just in time to catch Rodney staring. Again.

John can't help but smirk just a little.

Rodney flushes beautifully; he turns pink from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck as he averts his eyes. "I um... I'll leave you to it, but if you need anything..."

"I know where to find you," John says.

Rodney nods, turns away and practically sprints down the hall.

---

The couch is worse than the one in their apartment, John decides as he tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable position. Teyla and Ronon are already fast asleep, sprawled out comfortably on the large bed. John hates them just a little; he would have been more comfortable sleeping in the car.

He gives it another ten minutes and when he's no closer to sleep, he climbs off the couch and stalks out of the room, cursing Ronon and his ability to sleep anywhere and Teyla for being... well, for being Teyla.

He doesn't know where he's going and he's not sure what he's doing until he steps into the lobby.

Rodney's sitting at the front desk, hunched over something and John's cock twitches to life almost immediately.

"Hey," he calls before he can stop himself.

Rodney startles and looks up, blue eyes wide in surprise. "Uh... what... did you need something?"

He does, but John really doesn't know if it's something Rodney's willing to give but it doesn't stop him from slinking over to the desk. "What are you working on?" He asks conversationally. Mentally, he's kicking his own lame ass.

"Nothing that can't wait until later," Rodney says and then he flushes again and John can read the worry on his face; he's wondering if he's misjudged the situation.

"Cool," John says lazily. "You know, the couches in these rooms really suck."

"Yeah," Rodney agrees, clearing his throat just a little. He looks nervous and excited so John relaxes just a little bit.

"Don't happen to know a place that's a little more comfortable, do you?"

"As a matter of fact..." Rodney says.

---

Kissing Rodney is exactly like John thought it would be; his lips are incredibly kissable, but he's clumsy and awkward. It should turn John off, but it strangely enough, it doesn't. It just leaves him wanting more.

When they break apart, Rodney's breathing heavily, shoulders and chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His mousy brown hair is soaked to his forehead because even though it's a million and five degrees outside, apparently hotels don't believe in air conditioning their employee break room.

"It's hot as fuck," Rodney complains.

"Gonna get hotter," John says and leans forward, capturing Rodney's lips again.

---

The next time they break apart, Rodney's naked and writhing beneath John. He's about two thrusts away from shamelessly humping John's leg as John takes his time undressing himself.

"Torture," Rodney wheezes.

John responds by leaning over and swallowing Rodney's cock.

It's effective in shutting him up.

At least for a minute.

--

John has had a series of one night stands before. Plenty of college guys--and girls because he's not picky--but none have been as vocal about being fucked as Rodney.

When John finally slides in between those round ass cheeks, Rodney moans and whines and pleads and begs. He arches against John, crying out for more, more, more and John doesn't hold back. He thrusts against Rodney over and over, burying himself deeper and deeper each time.

"Fuck, Rodney," John gasps and he can already feel the orgasm building low in his belly. It hasn't been this quick since the first time Kenny Lewis blew him in the passenger seat of his uncle's van, but it doesn't matter because he can feel Rodney already trembling beneath him, his cock red and weeping between them.

He's close, but Rodney's closer.

Rodney's whimpering now and clinging to John harder with every thrust. He'll have marks and bruises for days, he thinks, but it's worth it when Rodney cries out and John feels the warm spray of come on his chest.

He leans down and buries his face against Rodney's neck as he rocks his hips desperately, torn between needing to come and wanting to prolong it.

He tries to hold out, but suddenly he's coming hard enough that his vision goes hazy and when he's finally spent, he collapses on top of Rodney, breathing heavily.

John rolls off of Rodney after a minute and reaches for his discarded boxers to clean himself up. It feels wrong to just dress and go, so instead, he slumps back against the couch beside Rodney, their shoulders brushing occasionally. John thinks he should say something, but he isn't sure what.

It's Rodney who breaks the ice.

"That was..."

"Yeah," John agrees. "I should..."

"Yeah."

John doesn't move.

---

When John jogs into the lobby late the next morning to check out, he's surprised to find Rodney still hunched behind the counter, staring at a text book. He doesn't seem to hear John approach, so John clears his throat, grinning when Rodney jumps at the sound.

"What?"

John drops the key card onto the counter and slides it towards him. "Just thought I'd come say goodbye. We're heading out."

"Where to?"

"Long Beach... four days of nothing but surf and sand."

"Thrilling," Rodney says dryly. He takes the key card and clicks the computer keys. "You um... come this way often?"

"Just once a year," John says and he thinks he imagines Rodney's face falling just a little.

"Well then..." Rodney says.

"Yeah," John agrees. "I uh... my friends are waiting for me at the car, but I just..."

"You should go."

"Yeah. I..." John sighs and turns. He takes a step toward the doorway and then stops. "Hey Rodney?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe... maybe on our way back through..." He trails off.

Rodney looks hopeful. "If you need anything..."

"I know where to find you," John grins before he turns and walks out of the lobby.

[morceid]

I Hate The Color Orange

SPENCER REID X FEM!READER

Summary: Spencer goes into work sick, and Y/N takes him home to rest.

Category: FLUFF. THE FLUFFIEST FLUFF IMAGINABLE.

Warnings: vomiting, general gross sickness, delirium, some swearing

Word Count: 2094

A/N: this is my first sickfic! i loved writing it so much! this is also my entry into @veraiconcos​ ‘s writer challenge. her fics are wonderful and you should check her out!

The first thing Spencer noticed when he woke up was how slow his brain was moving. It wasn’t like he couldn’t notice, especially considering how fast his mind usually worked. The second thing he noticed was the chills all over his skin even though he had multiple blankets covering his lanky body. 

Despite this, he pulled the covers up and got out of bed. He began to get dizzy as his brain caught up with his body. He pushed through as much as he could. He wouldn’t skip work even if he had a concussion.

As you walked into your place of work you noticed Spencer by the coffee machine. You had been pining after the young agent for quite a while now, and no one knew. Not even the beloved tech goddess Penelope Garcia, who was also your best friend. As you looked the genius upland down you noticed the discoloration in his face. He looked like he was on the verge of becoming a zombie.

You remembered an article you read about gum helping take your mind off of throwing up because your mouth was too preoccupied with another task at hand.. Your mind was wandering to what Spencer’s mouth could do…

“Hey, do you want some gum?” The words you spoke came from your vocal cords and your mind detached them from yourself. The orange package was flipped open and your hand was reaching towards Spencer.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” he was surprised by your gesture.

“Really? Are you? I read an article about how gum takes the idea of throwing up off of your mind because your mouth is already preoccupied.”

“How did you-”

“The orange might balance out the green tint on your face.” You explained.

“Oh, yeah I probably should take some.” He took a stick from the small box in your hands.

“Take it easy today, okay?” You hoped the concern in your voice wasn’t too obvious.

About an hour or two later you were working at your desk and felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N?” Spencer was behind you when you turned around, “Do you happen to have more gum?”

“Sorry, Spence, you took the last stick.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” It was not fine.

Spencer walked over to the coffee machine. His hands trembled and his eyes looked more panicked than normal as he picked up the pot of coffee. He tried pouring it and spilled it onto the counter. He put the coffee pot down and rubbed his hands over his eyes. If you were close enough, his breathing would be deep and you would see his eyes closed. He slammed his hand on the counter and ran towards the bathroom, earning a head turn from everyone in the bullpen.

“You should go check on him,” Prentiss was looking at Morgan.

“Uh uh, I do not wanna deal with a sick Reid. It’s not like he would accept care from me.” He retorted.

Before the other agents around you knew it, you were out of your seat and halfway to the gender neutral bathroom Spencer ran to.

“Spencer?” Instead of an answer you were greeted with a retching sound, “I’m coming in.”

You found Spencer hugging the porcelain toilet, which was now filled with an orange tinted vomit.

“Spencer, did you swallow the gum?”

He nodded.

“Do you need to go home?”

He moaned and nodded in response before throwing up again.

“Not yet, I guess. Are you gonna need anything to eat considering its all coming out? I can get something from Garcia’s office.”

He shook his head.

“I’ll go pack up your stuff and let Hotch know I’m taking you home.”

Normally he would begin protesting at this, but his body was shaking against the toilet and he could feel bile coming up his throat.

You walked out and told Anderson to make sure no one went into the bathroom before heading to Spencer’s desk. You picked up all the files that were laid out and evenly separated them between Emily and Morgan.

“Hey!” They exclaimed in unison.

“Sorry, guys. Spencer is sick as shit. I’m taking him home.”

“That damn pretty boy. Tell him I hope he feels better,” Morgan said, somberly taking a case file.

You hopped up the stairs two at a time going towards Hotch’s office and popped your head in.

“Hey! Spencer isn’t feeling too hot, so I’m taking him home. See you tomorrow.”

He was on the phone but he waved goodbye and mouthed to take care of him.

Next stop was Garcia’s office.

“Hey, Pen,” you said, walking in.

“Oh my god, you scared me! Anyways, what's going on?” She turned around from what looked like a horror gameplay livestream.

“Spence is sick. Like really fucked up. Do you have any ginger ale in your stash?”

She turned back to her desk and dug into her secret drawer compartment.

“Spencer should really stop working himself over. I mean, I get that all he wants is validation and praise, but c’mon, boy wonder! Your brain isn’t all that you are, you still have a human body! Gosh, he’s so pretty, but honestly- What’s that look in your eyes?” She cut off herself as she stood up from her chair.

“What? What’s what look in my eyes?”

“Oh my god, you LIKE him! Oh my god, oh my god. Give him all of the kisses in the world for me and remember to use protection-”

“Penelope Garcia!”

You tried to retaliate but she was already pushing you out of your office and telling you to “get your mans!”

You walked back to the bathroom with Spencer’s bag on one arm and yours on the other. You thanked Anderson for guarding the door and opened the door.

“Spencer I got your things, and Garcia had some ginger ale in her office if that- Spencer?”

He was passed out on the ground, clutching his stomach.

“I knew something was wrong when i stopped hearing him throw up!”

“No, Anderson, it’s not your fault. He’s probably fine, just sick. Could you help me carry him to my car? I think he took the metro today.” It would be pretty hard to carry the gangly man when you were already carrying two bags.

The journey to your car was a hassle, but that was fine. After you turned on the air conditioning Spencer woke up fairly quickly. He was confused as to why he was in your car, and you told him you were taking him home. He was too sick to be awake and too tired to care, so he fell back asleep shortly after that.

When you pulled up to his apartment he was still asleep so you gently shook him awake.

“We’re home, Spence. You need to wake up.”

“Our home?” He mumbled.

“No, silly. Your apartment.” You said, chalking it up to his sick delirium. Spencer doesn’t like you like that. Right?

He stumbled out of your car and into your arms. You held him up with your hand against his back as you walked up the stairs of his building. He leaned against a wall as you dug into his bag for the keys to his apartment.

He fell onto the couch immediately and buried his face in the pillows.

“It’s too hot! Everything is uncomfortable!” he grumbled as he started loosening his tie. He took off his button-up dress shirt to reveal a regular t-shirt he wore as an undershirt. Before he took off his pants you stopped him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Keep those on!” you said as you sat on the arm of his couch. “Drink this.” You gave him the ginger ale Penelope gave you, remembering the conversation before you left the office building.

He reluctantly turned over onto his back and took the can you left on the table.

“Thanks for the straw,” His lips puckered around the plastic tube. It made you think.

“No problem.” You pat his calf, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. “Is it too hot for me to lay next to you?”

“Nope,” He continued drinking the bubbly soda, pressing against the back of the sofa.

You laid in front of him but towards his face.

“Is it your tummy that’s bothering you?” You asked.

“It’s everything. I’ve had a headache all day and I keep getting flashes of hot and cold. I think that’s the first full sentence I’ve been able to get out all day,” He laughed

You reached your hand down to his stomach and pressed down.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

You continued to rub his stomach through his shirt. Every once in a while he let out a satisfied whimper. He asked you to put your hands under his shirt and you complied. You tried to keep the blush off of your cheeks when he asked you, but some things you just can’t help.

Spencer was asleep by the time you had realized how long you two had been sitting there. You left work at around noon and now it was four. You started to pull away from him and got up from the couch. He pulled in closer to where you were previously laying as you called Penelope.

“Hey Y/N! Since it’s been a pretty long day at work and there’s no case me and the girls are going out tonight. Wanna join?” Garcia spoke as soon as she answered your call.

“Uh, I’m not sure I'll be able to,” you whispered.

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU AT HIS APARTMENT STILL?!” Penelope yelled through the phone.

“Shh! He’s asleep on the couch.” Spencer mumbled something. 

“I think you just woke him up. Gotta go.” You hung up. “Did you say something?” You moved over to the couch and rested your head in front of where his laid.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” His eyes were still closed as he spoke.

You didn’t respond for a while and he opened his eyes, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Yes, of course, Spencer. I just canceled with the girls.” You said. There’s no way Spencer felt the way that you had for so long.

“No, no! Its not like that! I- I- Y/N!” he groaned in frustration.

“Then what is it, Spencer?” you moved his hair away from his eyes, thinking it might help him get the words out.

Instead of words Spencer leaned forward and took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly. It took you by surprise at first but after a couple seconds you leaned into it. His lips were soft and his mouth tasted like a sweet nothing. He reluctantly pulled away from you and his eyes looked watery like he was gonna cry.

“Hey. hey, hey, Spencer. It’s okay.” you ran your hands through his soft curls, “I like you too.”

“I like you so much. I just wanna cuddle with you forever.” A single tear streamed down his face.

“Oh my god, don’t cry!” you laughed out, “I’ll cuddle with you if you really want.” You climbed back onto the couch and pressed kisses onto his forehead.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms, feeling content with the world. You were no longer hiding from your feelings and instead facing each other. Everything was finally okay. You were the only two people in the world at that exact moment, and you would be until you woke up in the morning.

Spencer woke up first. His hands were on your waist and he remembered the dizzy words he spoke to you the near-evening. His mind swam as he tried to remember your response, but he was so sick he just couldn’t. But Spencer didn’t forget, did he?

There wasn’t much Spencer could do without waking you, so he tried his best to do so gently.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s morning.” He whispered.

You woke up and jolted your eyes open. You thought of the night before and instantly calmed down. You looked into Spencer’s deep, honey-colored eyes and kissed his still soft lips. He leaned into you and kissed back.

“So I guess last night went well.” He said as he pulled back, the kiss remembering him of the memories you created in his arms.

“Very. Are you still feeling sick? I can run to the store before we get to work if you need gum.”

“No, I’m okay,” he kissed your nose, “I hate the color orange, and that's all the drugstore has in stock.”

[mintaka14]

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Three – Living in a Blur

  “No Rose or Juleka today?” Marinette asked as she stepped down into the galley of the Liberty with that effortless grace that Luka was coming to associate with the woman she’d become. She reached up to tuck back a lock of hair that had escaped from the braid over her shoulder, and Luka moved around the tiny kitchen, pulling out mugs, while the kettle whistled loudly in the background.

“No, they had a few things to organise today for the wedding. They said to say hi, though.” He didn’t mention the other things that Rose had had to say, or the broad, suggestive beams she given him before she dragged Juleka away on whatever mission she’d manufactured.

He handed Marinette the tea that he’d just made and shifted towards the couch in the living room, cradling his own coffee. Marinette sank into the armchair across from him. She blew on the mug and closed her eyes to inhale the steam.

“I still can’t quite believe that Juleka and Rose are getting married. It feels like only yesterday we were all in collège.” Marinette smiled, and sighed.

“They’re incredibly lucky to be getting MDC original wedding dresses. That’s one hell of a wedding present you’re giving them.”

“Juleka and Rose are covering the materials I’m just volunteering my time and a bit of sewing.”

Luka’s eyebrow rose sceptically. “One artist to another, I know it’s not ‘just’ anything, Marinette. Your time and skill is a very generous gift, and don’t forget, I’ve seen what you’re putting together for them. Jules and Rose can’t have been straightforward to design for.”

Marinette laughed. “But they’re giving me the chance to have fun,” she insisted. “I spend all day every day dealing with clients with no individuality or imagination, trying to convince them to trust me, so it’s a relief to get a chance to do something interesting for a change, with friends who are happy to indulge me.”

Luka leaned back, all plans to rehearse forgotten, as he watched Marinette talk about the inspiration behind the wedding dresses and the creative possibilities in dressing certain clients, her face lighting up and her hands gesturing animatedly as she grew more impassioned about her theories of clothing as a reflection of self. He followed the movement of her hands and lost himself in the endless blue of her eyes.

“I really need to ask Juleka if she’d be willing to model for me sometime. She’s always so compelling in whatever she wears, and so much fun to design for,” she said eventually. He found her eyeing him speculatively. “I’d love to have the chance to dress you one day.”

“You could at least buy me dinner first,” he said without thinking.

There was a heartbeat, then Marinette burst out laughing.

“Smooth line, Couffaine. Does that work on all the girls?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He decided to lean into it, and grinned at her. “I’ve only ever tried it on you. Is it working?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “How are you still single?” she asked.

“You’re a hard act to follow,” he said, and Marinette levelled a look at him.

“Luka, I was a fourteen year old clumsy mess who kept on flaking out on our dates. You can’t tell me I’m the gold standard of your relationships.”

Put like that, it was ridiculous, but it was true nonetheless. He’d had relationships, and they were sincere in the moment, but he’d drifted out of them as easily as he’d drifted into them, and they’d left him with little more than fond memories. None of them had left a mark like Marinette had. Over the years, he’d put it down to rose-coloured nostalgia, but then she’d walked into his life again, more Marinette than ever, and he’d fallen harder and faster than he had before.

He looked down at the mug of coffee in his hands.

“How about you? Anyone special in your life these days?” he asked the coffee with casual disinterest. She gave a soft snort.

“Hardly. It’s not like anything’s changed since we were going out.” She seemed to catch herself, and froze as Luka’s head came up to stare at her. “I just… mean, who’s got time for a relationship, right? Life’s too busy.”

“Not since we were going out?” Luka echoed her, frowning. “Marinette, you were fourteen. You haven’t dated anyone since then?”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I dated. It just never lasts long. It’s not that big a deal. And besides,” she muttered, “I’ve learned my lesson, the universe doesn’t want me to have a relationship.”

She put her mug abruptly on the table and stood.

“Weren’t we supposed to be practising?”

Luka got to his feet and reached for his guitar. Clearly this was a line of conversation that Marinette did not want to go down with him, and he dropped the subject to run through the song with her a few times, correcting her gently when her voice faltered.

He had to wonder, though, what the hell was wrong with the men in Marinette’s life that had left her love life such a sore subject?

Luka stopped again to make a suggestion about phrasing and breath control.

“All that time, never even knowing just how blind I’ve been,” Marinette tried again, sounding more confident with the slightly awkward vocal skips this time, and Luka gave her a smile.

“See?” he told her. “Fashion designer to the stars, artist, and now singer. You can add that to your résumé.”

He’d finally coaxed a laugh out of her, and then Marinette’s handbag buzzed. Luka watched the smile drop off her face. Her eyes flicked to the door. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. I have… a thing…”

She was gone before he could say anything further. For a moment, Luka sat there with his guitar silent in his lap, frowning thoughtfully. Apparently she was right – not much had changed in the ten years since they’d been kids together. There were still the abrupt excuses, the silences, the sudden disappearances.

Luka plucked out Now she’s here, shining in the starlight, and he considered the empty space where she’d been. He was coming to suspect that whatever had been going on when they were kids, whatever she’d been keeping to herself when she broke it off with him, it was something bigger than he’d imagined.

At that moment, Luka’s own phone chimed with an akuma alert, and the timing of it was jarring. His hand dropped, as it always did, to touch his empty wrist. He looked down at it, his frown growing troubled as a new thought took hold.

He found himself thinking back over the timing of some of those disappearances, and odd excuses, and the times she’d had just a little more knowledge of Ladybug's movements than any random civilian ought to, but it had all sounded so plausible at the time. Seen through this new lens, those moments took on a new significance the more he turned them over in his mind.

Black pigtails, unmistakeable blue eyes. The same damn plain black earrings that Marinette, the consummate fashion designer, was still wearing ten years later.

How had he never put it together before?

Luka was still sitting there, his hands resting on his guitar and his gaze fixed on nothing, when Juleka and Rose came home.

“Where’s Marinette?” Rose asked in obvious disappointment when she took in the quiet room.

“She had to leave,” Luka replied absently.

“Luka! You just let her leave?”

Luka could see the tiny frown that he was feeling reflected in his sister’s face, although he wasn’t sure what had prompted it in Juleka’s case.

“I’m not going to badger her into staying if she needs to go, Rose,” he said mildly.

Rose threw up her hands. “And how is she supposed to know you want her to stay if you don’t tell her? I don’t get why you’re both fighting this so hard. She’s single, you’re single, but both of you are too chicken to make the first move.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Juleka interjected, shooting a dark look at her brother. “Because I remember weeks and weeks of Taylor fucking Swift, and I do not want to go through that again.”

“That was ten years ago! You cannot tell me that there’s not something there!” Rose whirled and stabbed a finger at Luka. “You can’t argue with the Sparkly Sense.”

Luka was only half paying attention to the argument, and responded vaguely, “Marinette has too much going on in her life right now to worry about a relationship with anyone.” Like saving the city, over and over and over again, holy shit, she was Ladybug.

Once seen, it was hard to understand how he could have missed it, and his mind briefly derailed to speculate that it must be some sort of kwami-induced magic that obscured her identity. Given how adamant Ladybug had been back in the day that the secret of the miraculous holders’ identities had to be preserved, and how hard she had worked since then to maintain that secrecy, Luka had a bad feeling about how things would go if he told her that he knew.

He was about to become another crack in her armour, another worry dumped on her already overloaded shoulders. Although, what did he really know, when all was said and done? He had his suspicions, nothing more.

“Hopeless, the both of you,” Rose complained, and glared at Juleka. “Don’t you want your brother to live happily ever after?”

“I don’t want to have to live through weeks of I Almost Do again, because my stupid brother hasn’t got the sense he was born with, and you’re just encouraging him.”

Rose stomped away, muttering things under her breath, but Juleka stayed silent after that. His guitar still in his hand, Luka got to his feet and headed for his bedroom before Rose could come back and start again. He had too much else on his mind to deal with Rose’s matchmaking.

Every time he thought Marinette couldn’t get any more extraordinary, she surprised him all over again, but the music he played softly in the solitude of his room that night ached with all the burdens he’d seen in her eyes.

Some time later, he heard a soft knock on his door and it opened quietly. When he looked up, Juleka was leaning there, her hand on the door handle and a look of equal parts irritation and uneasiness on her face.

“Luka –“

“I’m fine,” he cut her off before she could say what he knew she was going to say. “I know what I’m doing, and it’s all good.”

Juleka’s mouth pinched. “Do you, though? Because from where I’m standing, we’re heading for Taylor territory again.”

Luka didn’t answer, his focus on his hands and the fragments of melody that he’d come to think of as Marinette’s song. Eventually he heard a sigh, and Juleka said, “I love you, you dumbass.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

The door shut behind her, and he was left alone with his thoughts and Marinette’s secrets.

~~~~~

“You’re playing with fire,” warned the voice of responsibility in Marinette’s handbag, and Marinette sighed. She shifted the bulky dress bags in her hands so that she could see the little round face peering up at her.

“It’s just a dress fitting, Tikki. Can’t I even have friends anymore?”

“It’s Luka,” the tiny kwami said primly. “Things never stay just friends with Luka, and I saw the way you’ve been looking at him. Remember what happened the last time you told someone?”

“That was ten years ago, and Luka is not Alya. Don’t you think things have changed a bit since then?”

“It never ends well,” Tikki insisted, and Marinette felt the weight of Ladybug closing in on her all over again. She looked up at the Liberty as she drew closer, and had never felt less free in her life.

“Don’t worry, Luka’s not even going to be there,” she said wearily. “Juleka said he’s got something tonight, so it’ll just be her and Rose there. And anyway, there’s no chance he’d ever be interested in me like that again.” Because if there was a chance, then Marinette would have to walk away now before she could do any more damage, and she’d never get to see Luka again. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

“Luka was a wonderful holder for Sass,” Tikki conceded, “but he’s always been a little too perceptive for comfort. If he were to find out…”

“We’re here,” Marinette said, cutting off the rest of Tikki’s dire predictions. The kwami vanished into the depths of her handbag, and Marinette maneouvred the dress bags carefully as she climbed the gangplank onto the boat and called a greeting as she reached the empty deck.

In spite of her mood after Tikki’s lecture, she felt a tiny smile curl her lips as Rose’s answering shriek echoed up from below deck, and she followed the sound down into the depths of the boat.

“Marinette!” Rose scolded reproachfully as Marinette descended carefully into the galley with the two dress bags in her hand and moved through into the living room. “You didn’t even say goodbye last time! We got back and you were just gone.”

Marinette held the dresses clear as Rose engulfed her in a whirlwind hug, and turned to meet Juleka’s more sedate greeting. The dark-haired girl gave her a nod and a quirk of a smile that turned to a frown when Rose gave her girlfriend a smug look.

Rose turned towards the bedrooms, and bellowed, “Luka! Look who’s here!”

“What’s up?” she heard Luka’s voice, and felt her heart stutter. Oh, that wasn’t good. Luka swung around the edge of the door, leaning against the frame behind his sister as he directed a slow, sweet smile at Marinette.

“Hey, you,” he said, and Marinette couldn’t help but smile back at him. Juleka rolled her eyes and slugged her brother in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Juleka!” Rose scolded.

“Weren’t you going out? Rose said you had a thing tonight,” Juleka said, and Luka frowned at her.

“Not for another hour. The band we were going to check out isn’t on til later.”

“Did I say eight?” Rose said innocently to the ceiling. “I meant nine. Oops.”

Marinette found herself standing there awkwardly holding the dress bags, her eyes shifting between the three of them.

“You don’t want to keep the guys waiting if you said you’d be there,” Juleka pushed.

“I only said I might,” Luka said, shooting his sister an annoyed look.

“Besides, he can catch them another time,” Rose insisted, staring at her girlfriend with a pointed message that Juleka ignored for once. “They won’t mind, and Marinette’s here now.”

Luka elbowed Juleka aside none too gently and came into the room. “I’m getting a coffee. Did you want anything, Mari?”

“I’d like a coffee,” Juleka said in a saccharine voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“I didn’t ask you, monster child.”

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” Marinette told Luka. “I’m only here to do the final dress fitting.”

“Oh no!” Rose protested. “You have to stay for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you’ve done with the wedding dresses.”

“You haven’t even seen the finished thing yet,” Marinette pointed out, and felt a flush rising at the smile that Luka was giving her.

“We don’t need to see them to know they’re going to be incredible,” he said. “And it wasn’t important. I was only half thinking of going out anyway.”

The noise Juleka made was not polite, and Luka made a rude gesture back without looking at his sister.

“Well,” said Rose brightly. “How about we leave them to it? They’re going to be doing this for a while.”

In Juleka’s bedroom, Marinette didn’t have to ask Rose if she was happy with her wedding dress once she’d settled the clouds of soft pink organza around her and done up the miles of tiny buttons. Rose was making a noise like a tea kettle on the boil that rose to a squeal of happiness as she spun around in front of Juleka’s bedroom mirror. Handbeaded organza flowers spilled down in glittering trails across the skirts as she turned, and Rose raised a hand to touch the flowers that clustered all over her bodice.

“It’s perfect!” she breathed. She made a move as if she was going to throw her arms around Marinette, but Marinette fended her off with a laugh.

“Hug me when we get you out of the dress,” she smiled. “How does it feel? Nothing slipping, or too tight?”

“It’s perfect,” Rose repeated, her voice turning a little wobbly with emotion.

When Marinette finally got Rose to stop twirling around for long enough to take the gown off again, they headed back to the living room to find the Couffaine siblings glaring at each other. Luka looked away as they came in, his mouth pressed in a tight line, and Juleka spun on her heel, stalking towards the bedroom without a word, leaving Marinette to follow.

She carefully removed Juleka’s wedding dress from its hanger while her friend stripped down to her underwear and slipped her formal shoes on, and then Marinette started easing Juleka into the gown.

“Mari, what’s really going on with you and Luka?” Juleka asked, her voice a little muffled by the softly glittering black fabric over her head. Marinette slid the dress down and settled it into place. “I love you, but he’s my brother and I’m worried about him.”

“We’re just friends,” Marinette said, and suppressed a flinch at the words. Juleka rolled her eyes.

“You were never just friends even when you were just friends. And the last time I thought you were just friends it turned out you’d been dating my idiot brother. So excuse me if I’m not buying it.”

Marinette swallowed at that, stung but unable to argue the point.

“Believe me, Juleka, I’m well aware of how badly I fucked up back then, and the last thing I want to do is hurt Luka like that again,” she said, insistent in the face of Juleka’s scepticism.

“You won’t mean to, but Luka gets stupid when you’re involved.”

“That was ten years ago,” Marinette protested.

“That was two minutes ago.”

Juleka’s exasperated words provoked a cold wash of dismay. Juleka had to be mistaken. Luka was long over her, he had to be. Somewhere deep down, though, Marinette felt a tiny fireworks explosion of something that she didn’t dare acknowledge.

“The moment you turn up, he drops everything without a second thought,” Juleka muttered as Marinette eased the hidden zip up. Marinette stepped back, and Juleka turned to face the mirror.

“Wow. Damn, Marinette,” she breathed. She angled herself a little, her eyes still on her reflection in the mirror. “I take it all back. You’re welcome to wreck my dumbass brother, as long as I get to keep this dress.”

Marinette gave a tightlipped little smile, and went back to regarding the gown with a critical eye. There really didn’t seem to be much that needed adjusting. She repositioned the crystal chipped dragon brooch that coiled over Juleka’s hip, where it caught up the fall of the fabric, but it all seemed to be working.

She extracted Juleka from the gown again, and back in the living room Rose was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through something on her phone. Luka had his guitar in his hands again, strumming something with his coffee forgotten on the table beside him. He looked up as Marinette and Juleka came in.

“How’s the dress?” he asked.

“It’s stunning,” Juleka said, and heaved a put-upon sigh. “I can’t stop you from being stupid, but at least you have good taste.”

He gave her a suspicious look, his eyes shifting to Marinette when there was no further explanation forthcoming. “What was that all about?”

Marinette shrugged awkwardly, but fortunately he didn’t press her on it.

“So are we doing Thai or that new Indian place tonight? There’s nothing on the Akuma alert,” Rose said from the couch, “but there is a new theory about who Ladybug is on the conspiracy forums.”

“Aliens, or the Mayor’s secret revenge love child this time?” Juleka asked, dropping onto the couch beside her.

“I miss the Ladyblog,” Rose said, stretching her arms over her head. “Remember that time Alya thought that Chloe was Ladybug?”

Marinette remembered.

On the couch, Juleka laughed. “How is Alya,” she asked, and tilted her head to throw a look at Marinette. “Have you seen her lately?”

Alya again. The universe seemed determined to beat her over the head with her failures. She opened her eyes to find them all watching her, and she gave a strained and unconvincing smile.

“Not recently. I think she’s working in a travel agency now. It’s been a few years, though.”

Nearly six years, to be exact, since she’d last bumped into Alya.

“Jules,” Luka said casually, “how about you and Ro go pick up dinner? Mari and I really should work on the song for the wedding a bit more.”

It was a transparent excuse to shift the subject and give her a bit of space, and she was grateful for it, even if Rose did give Luka a very unsubtle wink that he pretended to not see. Rose and Juleka didn’t seem to have noticed anything odd, but Luka threw her a quick glance as he laughed at something Rose said, and reached out to toss his wallet at Juleka, who pulled a few euros from it and threw it back. Marinette managed to respond lightly enough to a question about her preferences, and by the time it was just her and Luka she’d pulled herself together again.

“I take it that things aren’t good with Alya,” he said gently.

She shrugged, and the smile she gave him was a little unsteady. “Our friendship didn’t end well. We don’t talk to each other anymore.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as close as she could get without giving away too much. There was no way she could explain how her former best friend had looked straight through her as if she was a stranger the last time they’d run into each other, or the sickening wash of guilt, remorse, and self-loathing she still felt over the reason behind it, even after all these years.

“It was a long time ago,” she said as easily as she could manage, but Luka had always been able to read her better than that. His hand closed over hers briefly, reassuring and strong, and for a moment she let herself draw on his warmth.

“It still leaves a mark, though, doesn’t it?” he said.

She couldn’t help wondering a little bitterly how different things might have been if she’d told Luka everything, instead of Alya, back when she was fourteen. Would it have been Luka looking at her with that terrible emptiness?

Marinette broke eye contact and pulled her hand away to wrap it around her now-cold mug. She was aware that Luka was regarding her as if he saw a lot more than she was letting on, but he didn’t push for more. Instead, he got to his feet.

“I need another coffee,” he said, and gave her a questioning look. “Tea for you?”

She took the distraction, and followed him into the galley.

Luka kept to safe subjects after that, telling her about the group of students he’d been working with after school, and a gig that had gone disastrously wrong, until she couldn’t help but giggle when he described the drummer slowly sliding off his stool and passing out face down on his snare drum.

“It actually improved the quality of his playing,” Luka said wryly.

And he laughed when she countered with an account of Chloe Bourgeois commisioning her to design and make an outfit last season.

“I don’t think she’d even considered that MDC might stand for Marinette Dupain-Cheng until she turned up for the fitting,” Marinette grinned. “You should have seen the look on her face, though.”

“Ridiculous!” Luka scoffed in a passable immitation of the Mayor’s daughter, and waved his hand in the air as Marinette giggled at him. “Utterly ridiculous!”

“And of course, nothing was good enough. She couldn’t believe I was expecting her to pay full price for such shoddy workmanship. I should be paying her to wear my rags.”

“Tell me you told her where to shove it,” Luka said, and folded his arms on the benchtop, leaning forward in anticipation. Marinette’s smile grew broader.

“Oh, better than that. I told her if it wasn’t to her satisfaction she was welcome to leave the dress and I’d cancel her contract, and I’d even waive the cancellation fee because we’d known each other such a long time. I was very helpful. I told her I was sure I could find someone willing to buy it instead, and Clara Nightingale had already seen it and asked if it was for sale. Which was true,” she added as an afterthought.

“And?”

Marinette tilted her chin, her smile turning smug. “She took the dress, of course. And ordered another one under a fake name a month later.”

“Seriously?”

“B. Queen, to be delivered to the Grand Paris Hotel. With her exact measurements. Seriously.”

Luka tipped his head back and laughed hard, and Marinette lost herself in the sound. God, he was a beautiful man.

Next to the couch in the living room, her handbag shuffled in agitation, and Marinette ignored it, but her smile faded in response to the reminder.

“Marinette,” Luka said more seriously, and when she looked up his blue eyes had deepened into something that was a little hard to read. He frowned a little, as if he was trying to decide what he should say. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I get the feeling that things haven’t been so easy for you. I know it’s been hard to let yourself get close to anyone.”

He was speaking slowly, measuring out each word carefully, and it felt like there was a whole lot he deliberately wasn’t saying.

“I just need you to know, the Liberty is always a safe place. We’re here for you. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

It would be so easy, so very easy, to fall into those ocean deep eyes and fall into his arms, and tell him everything. That was what made Luka Couffaine so dangerous to be around. With ten years of Tikki’s constant litany of concealment and duty ringing in her ears, Marinette clamped her mouth shut on all her secrets even as a tiny voice in the back of her head pleaded but this is Luka.

“Weren’t we supposed to practise the song?” Marinette blurted out, and felt the heat of an embarrassed flush rise in her cheeks. She hadn’t felt this thrown in years.

Luka accepted the abrupt shift with nothing more than a nod and a soft smile, as if he’d expected it.

“Back to the Disney salt mines,” he said drily, and startled a laugh out of her. “Don’t tell Rose I said that. She’d have me tried for treason.”

“How did we get ourselves into this?” Marinette asked, and Luka chuckled.

“Well, Ro loves Disney, no surprise there, and Jules loves Ro.”

“And you love them both,” Marinette said softly.

“And you’d do anything for the people you care about, even agree to sing at their wedding if they asked you to,” Luka said just as gently, and they exchanged glances. “So here we are, knee deep in Disney magic. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sit through Cinderella, both versions, and I can recite Tangled in my sleep.” His smile softened. “I’m developing a new appreciation for it, though.”

Marinette dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes. He said in an easier manner, “I have to admit, there’s some great music. You should hear Rose belt out Let It Go sometime, and Jules did an incredible cover of Once Upon a Dream one Valentine’s Day for Rose.”

“What about you? Do you ever sing along?” she asked, trying to match his tone.

“What do you think? Music nerd here.”

He rapped out a solid, syncopated beat on the benchtop, and that husky voice of his sang, “Tatou o tagata folau...” She couldn’t help grinning, and he grinned back as he segued into a phrase from Circle of Life before riffing a bit of the simple bear necessities, and then finished on “You’re welcome, and thank you!” as she burst out laughing.

“Good music is good music,” he said with a shrug. “I get a lot of eyerolling from some of the kids when I start talking Disney in class, but it’s a starting point for a lot of discussion, and it turns out everyone always has their favourite song.”

“So what about you? What’s your favourite?” she asked, and he said easily, “Oh, there are a lot I could go with. It all depends on my mood.”

“Yes, but if you had to pick one?”

She wasn’t sure why she was pushing, and he hesitated for a long moment. Just when she thought he was going to brush it off, he reached for his guitar.

“It’s not strictly Disney, but ...” She didn’t recognise the soft, rippling intro that he played, and it wasn’t until he started singing that she worked out what it was.

He didn’t look at her as he sang about someday, out of the blue. It didn’t have to mean anything, it was just a song, he could have been thinking about anyone, but when he sang about still believing and still having faith in a voice that was far too heartfelt, Marinette felt her breath catch.

She couldn’t be doing this to him all over again.

~~~~~

He knew, the moment that his hands stilled on the guitar strings, that he’d gone too far and given away too much. The stricken look on Marinette’s face made that blatantly clear.

From the doorway, Rose breathed, “Oh Luka, that was lovely!”

Juleka dropped the bags of takeaway on the table and muttered something, while Luka watched Marinette and felt his heart sink like a stone.

“We so have to do a Road to El Dorado movie night tonight,” Rose was saying brightly. “You’re staying, aren’t you, Marinette? Otherwise Luka’s going to be the odd man out again.”

“I wish I could,” Marinette said. “I… I have to go. Sorry, Rose, maybe another time.” Her glance flickered in his direction. “Sorry. I’m really sorry I can’t stay for dinner after all.”

She scrambled her things together, dropping her handbag and coming up red-faced. This was more like the Marinette he remembered from their teenage years, and it brought up some difficult memories. She flashed an awkward smile in answer to Rose’s protests, and then she was gone.

“Well,” Rose said, staring at the empty doorway. “I guess Marinette’s still Marinette.”

“Rose!” Luka’s voice cracked like glass, and his future sister-in-law’s eyes widened at Luka’s uncharacteristically sharp tone. “Remember all those plans to get Marinette and Adrien together?” How well did those work out?”

“But this is different!” Rose protested.

“This is no different. No more plans. I’ve screwed things badly enough as it is.”

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out again, thinking of all those secrets that Marinette had to keep, and the distances that had grown in her life because of them. More quietly, he said, “Marinette could really use a few good friends in her life. I don’t want her to lose us again because we’re pushing for more than she can give.”

“I…” Rose looked away, biting her lip, and then met his eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”

Dinner was quieter than usual, and Luka ignored the perturbed glances his sister kept shooting him. He pushed the food around, barely tasting it, and put it aside when he couldn’t pretend he was actually eating it anymore.

Luka swung away from the table, his phone in his hand, and hesitated, then he texted Marinette before he could talk himself out of it.

+Sorry about that. Rose has promised to back off on the matchmaking – I think she’s just got wedding fever. Want to run through the song one more time before the wedding?+

It wasn’t Rose’s schemes, though. He knew that. Marinette was taking far too long for it to mean anything good, although he kept trying to tell himself that she might not be able to answer, she might be in the middle of something, she might have her phone off... Juleka muttered at him to stop fidgeting so much, god, you’re driving me crazy, before it finally chimed with a response.

+I think I know it now+ she sent back. +See you next week+

Luka stared numbly at the words on his screen. It was happening all over again, and this time he had no defences left. Juleka was watching him with a look of exasperated sympathy.

“You’re just as stupid as you ever were,” she told him, and Luka exhaled heavily. It was hard to argue with that.

[weaselbeaselpants]

Weird week behind me weird week ahead of me but I’ve done a lot of self reflection and came to the weirdest epiphany. The older I get the more I realize all my ‘problems’ with VivziePop - her thoughts on criticism;  the choices she makes in story telling; some of the people she’s worked with (not that any of that’s my business; I’m not her mom) really aren’t about Viv, but more about her fandom.

I’m speaking of the preHazbin era Viv here and as someone who’s only watch horny fish jump at the surface rather than jump straight into the Hazbin-fandom, but given my ‘noncritical’ fellow fans have told me that the Vivziefandom now is also terrible - I guess I’ll go over my experience and make the most out of what I do know.

I followed Viv in 2009 and fell off in 2013 cause I kinda just lost interest and found myself wrapped up in other fandoms. I’ve always felt amicable about her content; I could give or take designs or the way in which she wrote characters -- ((Zech represent!!!)) but it’s honestly surreal and really fun seeing this person I recognize make it big and improve so much. Like I’ve said before I am very happy and very impressed with Viv doing all she’s done in the span of TWO YEARS. wow gurl.

Trouble is, there was the particular breed of fan who really made me...uncomfortable. They felt almost possessive of Viv’s attention. They sang praises about her work in a way that just made me want nothing to do with it because I was worried if I drew those characters these people would be like ‘hey, I’M Viv’s fav artist, not you!”. They would  unironically write Viv messages like:

“you are a GOD” -- “I’m so not worthy compared to you” --“I wish I was as talented as you” -- “YOU ARE EVERYTHING AND CAN’T DO WRONG VIV”.

The kind of messages which were meant to sound flattering but, intentional or not, came off as gaslighting, like they were guilt tripping Viv about being better than them. This behavior, treating your favorite artist/internet personality like your superior and groveling like Starscream, it strikes a nerve with me; partly because I was this way with my favorite artists and influences back in the day,  but also because once I got a taste of that treatment myself I realized just how bad it could be:

There was once a girl on dA who was jealous of me because of the attention I got on my art instead of her. I told her that I wasn’t gonna stop drawing but also that there was nothing wrong with her art and she’d find her place. It was weird being put in that position where someone is very clearly upset at you but also looking for your approval.

The second was some scumball who I blocked in 2016. He wouldn’t speak to me, only write condescending, backhanded comments on my art; check on my profile daily; call me a bootlicker (cuz I took commissions) behind my back; redrew my art and would talk about me in his personal artist notes about how I ‘probably wouldn’t see this’ - oh yeah all the while he did fan art of my characters but again never spoke to me when I replied. When I finally messaged him about his behavior he said he thought I was “really overrated” and “bad for the fandom” cuz I took money and kept him from getting the love he deserved. It took messaging another person within our fandom, one I had been in spats with online before, to finally realize I shouldn't put up with that bs....

That guy who was stalking me btw did so while I was well under 1.K watchers and am still pretty obscure. Anyway, I had one guy unhealthily watching me for the wrong reasons. Just one. This is why when Viv says she “hates creeps” I 150% believe this woman and am not about to call her a liar who just can’t take criticism. Like, if you really think that, I’m sorry but you don’t know what Viv’s gone through from both her critics AND fans.

Of course, a lot of people will be like “I bet you’re just jealous and really just want that kind of attention yourself so you’re preaching to the choir”, but like...no. I am envious of just about any creator who’s the social butterfly I’m not, but, like, if I'm jealous of an artist none of that is that artists’ fault. Ever. It’s my own issues with being comfortable with myself are at stake. If I criticize Viv’s work it’s not because I see her as competition or my Squilliam Fancyson; it’s because I’m a critical fan of animation and cartoons and have my own thoughts to share on the cartoons of an artist I’m familiar with.  Jealousy/envy/mixed-admiration/godIwishthatwereme.jpeg feels are totally natural and valid emotions when you’re a creator. Envy becomes a problem when you internalize, weaponize, and scrutinize people on the basis of them being what you aren’t which -yes - some people do in the name of criticism. ((Although, I would hardly say some of the nastiest AntiViv folk are jealous as much as they are angry that this project they think is harmful is getting attention and using that as justification for some really shitty behavior of their own, which no, this post is not a part of by virtue of coming from a critical fan.))

Critique can come from either a good place or bad place; good critique can be used to bad ends and bad critique can come from a well-meaning place, and vice versa.   It’s the difference between many a criticalfan having a sour taste in their mouth regarding the Viv’s base but persisting in a critique+admiration separate of that, and this asswipemonster trying to weasel his way into Spindlehorse while also bashing Viv on a public forum for clearly vitriolic reasons. He was a creep.

So yeah um please stop insisting that every Hazbin critic is just jealous’ because a) there are people who have a past with Viv’s base and that clouds their judgement, but in a lot of cases that doesn’t invalidate their feelings or thoughts on her work separate from that, and b) I’ve seen what clingy gaslighting jealous fans are. Spoiler: they’re not so much Annie Wilkes as much as they are Tommy Wiseaus. You don’t want Tommy Wiseau following you.

Another bad vibe I really picked up on that I can kinda confirm is still probably the case now: people think that they know Viv and the Spindlehorse crew and have the right to send them shit they don’t need or WANT to be seeing.

Like, I talked with Viv once ages ago. I don’t remember what I said other than we were talking about Frankenweenie, I think. She was nice. Outside of that she said “thank you” to my comments on her deviations but that’s it. I DO NOT KNOW THIS WOMAN AND unless you’ve worked with or are a legit friend/mutual of hers, NEITHER DO YOU. But I don’t think every Vivzie stan/critic knows this. Whether it be people assuming she MUST think they’re headcanon is now canon-canon cuz she liked a comment they made; or some critic thinking they must have seriously hurt her pride because they’ve been blocked by her on twitter (or you know, maybe she and the rest of Spindlehorse is tired of getting @s and don’t have to time to read through your analysis so they’re gonna just block and move on cuz they’re busy).

Just because the creators talk with fans doesn’t mean fans are literally their best friends and have a part in the show’s direction. And yes, critics and reviewers fit that bill as well. Know your damn boundaries people.

If you find/make some kind of contribution as a viewer that’s awesome but you should never expect nor DEMAND the creator see it. The most obvious horror stories involving this and Helluva/Hazbin have been the Instagrams made by the crew being harassed by incestpedo enthusiasts, but it applies even to just @ing creators as well.

I’ve seriously had someone tell me to just take my criticisms directly to Viv and like...no. Why would I do that?

I respect Viv and the artists working with her enough to know that they’re working their asses off on an animated series and should not be bothered. I don’t want them to stop all they’re doing and reply to me. I want them to keep working. Also, that kind of logic makes me wonder how many critics Viv’s found because she found it on her own or if some obsessed fan told her about it - which is really messed up cuz if it IS just good critique you’re, again, just pestering her, and if it wasn’t critique but full on harassment WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU MESSAGE HER ABOUT THAT ANYWAY? I’m sure she doesn’t need to be reminded that people drew and said really awful shit about her on Tapatalk. My point being I’m sure what people think they’re doing is

“OOOoh Viv lookitwut this person is doing in our fandom we need to ban together against this toxic behavior”

but what they’re actually doing, and sounding like, is -

“Hey Viv I know you are working so hard on the show and you’re trying to figure out where to go from here but LOOKITWHUTTHISHATERSAID. LOOKATIT! VALIDATE ME VIV AND PUT’EM IN THEIR PLAAAAAACE!”

TL;DR Viv’s fanbase back in the day consisted of everyman artists and interests but there was this one breed of fan -who I hope was just a vocal minority- that ruined it for everything else.

Call it stanning or ‘simping’ or as it’s classically known, ‘white knighting’, whatever it was it really soured a lot of people on her because of those fans.

That’s why the DollCreep drama got so bad from what I can tell. Doll and Viv had a falling out and then called out eachother online where people who took it upon themselves to speak for them starting throwing mud.

Back in the day I remember Viv used to get mad at artists for ‘stealing’ her style. I think this attitude from Viv directly has vanished but I remember it happening because one of the people she thought was stealing her style did art for me at some point and they were basically shamed/chased off deviantART by a gaggle of these really nasty Vivfans.

inb4> “VIV WAS AWARE AND STILL WEAPONIZES HER FANS THO”

I don’t know that. And honestly, where I’m inclined to believe she’d do something like that then I think Viv is really different and has improved her business and public image from her college days. I’d be very disappointed in her if she was pulling a Butch Hartman or Derek Savage, but I just don’t think she is one, k?

Viv is more self critical and aware than any of these uber protective-gatekeeping fans give her credit for. She said on the Pizzapartypodcast that she knows the Hazbin pilot wasn’t perfect; she’s been able to identify the problems with old Zoophobia; this woman knows that criticism of all kinds need to exist and from what I see she sounds like she’s trying to get used to that. It’s just, you know, when you have nasty antis badgering you, stalkers, obsessive yes-mam’ fans, opinionated shit posters, r34 artists, entitled shippers and the NDAs of a company alongside your own branded image - all that negativity, even the constructive bits, tend to clump together and you just want to scream at it so you can finish the damn cartoon already!!!!

TL;DR: PART TWO

VivziePop/mind is basically indie Tim Burton.  Her work is fun, shallow and made with love but is marketed as being for everyone when it’s really not. Parts of it I love to watch; parts of it drives me crazy cuz of reasonswhatev this isn’t a review.

BUT any fanbase where people tell me I should just “expect what’s coming to me” when I’m trying to argue against dragging creators into fandrama is troubling. People have a parasocial bond with fandoms and their creators and they need to learn when to back off.

[vegetalass]

Hey there! Your RDR2 headcanons are fantastic, and I’m itching for more! I’m not sure if you’re still active, but if you are... Could I possibly request some Arthur, Javier, Charles, and/or Sean headcanons about a tall female/gender neutral reader who is insecure about their height? SFW or NSFW welcome. 💕

hi!!!🥰 Thank you for enjoying my work so much!!! 

I’m not really all that active, but I’m around! I guess you could call it an indefinite hiatus (?), maybe, but I’m not too sure! I mostly just pick and choose the asks I feel like doing if I’m in the mood to write.💘

that being said.... in the words of our lord and savior megan thee stallion... PUT THEM LEGS ON HIS HEAD NOW HE LOVE TALL WOMEN AHHH (she’s talking about all the rdr2 boys)

find me at @ihatebnha... 

enjoy! 

-

Arthur 

This man is fucking stupid 

For all the insecurities he has regarding himself, he definitely isn’t going to be aware about ANY of yours

And he definitely isn’t going to notice anything is upsetting you unless you specifically tell him 

And even then, he’s not really going to understand why you’re insecure in the first place

This is mostly because he doesn’t think you have flaws. If he doesn’t see anything wrong with you, then clearly you don’t either and whatever it is that’s bothering you doesn’t matter and therefore isn’t important or will go away on it’s own 

Honestly, in Arthur’s mind, he has bigger fish to fry than worry about whether his girl is short or tall

If he likes you and did enough to get you to like him back (especially since he has a lot of baggage), then that’s all that matters

If you bring it up with him, however, it’s big dumbass hours

“Arthur, I’m just so… tall! Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Tall is strong. Strong is good.” 

“But… I don’t look like a lady.. Like Tilly and Mary-Beth and Karen and all them other girls… Doesn’t that bother you?” 

“Why would I want you to look like them…?” 

It takes awhile, but if you keep it up it probably does get to the point where he realizes you’re genuinely insecure, especially if he’s been brushing it off for a while and your mood starts being affected

It’s then that he’ll pull you aside and just explain to you that he couldn’t give a damn what you look like, since you’re wayyyyyyy out of his league anyway

Probably does that thing where he talks to you for like an hour about how the lifestyle you live is dangerous and love is fleeting so all that matters is that you have each other and blah blah blah 

And you have to be like …. “Arthur…. hush…” 

Honestly, even when he’s aware that you’re insecure about your height, not much is gonna change EXCEPT he’ll probably try to pick you up wayyyyy more often 

Which would be weird except for the fact he can totally do it no sweat 

(because I mean… look at this dude….) 

You scream and tell him to put you down and he’s like “What? Think I can’t pick up my woman? I’m a lil offended…” 

And then he’ll just wrap your legs around his torso and you have to hold on for dear life because he’s not gonna put you down

Overall, Arthur is too much of an outlaw with abandonment issues to worry about looks. Frankly… he sees woman he likes… he gets boner… It’s pretty simple. 

Charles 

Charles is… both more and less helpful than Arthur 

He definitely takes the same approach of like… “Tall = Strong, which is GOOD,” but he’s so casual about it that it’s honestly not going to be that reassuring 

You try to bring it up once or twice and he just… doesn’t really get that it’s an insecurity and not something that can be solved with a simple, logical answer

He kinda just assumes that since you’re together, you already know he likes how you look 

(Because he really, truly does)

So he wonders why he would need to say anything to you about it other than something like, “you look fine,” if you brought it up

This is okay for the most part… but on the days when you’re more bummed out about it than usual, it can be really annoying

Plus, getting him into the zone where he can talk about feelings is pretty hard

Not that he’s not willing to, I just think he doesn’t automatically know when you’re trying to have a heart to heart vs. when you’re just chatting 

Especially since you don’t have that much alone time at camp and are often focused on missions otherwise

So you would really have to pull him away from whatever he was doing to fully show him that you were serious

He’s great though, because once he truly gets what you mean, he’s going to put in the most effort to mitigate those feelings 

Not only does he fully express in words how much he adores you (height and all) after you explain, he’s gonna try to put more effort into his actions, as well, so you can feel it without him having to reassure you verbally

Holding you from behind, rubbing your thighs, leaning on you more, kissing your ankles etc.

And God forbid anybody make a comment about your height, he’s going to snap their spine

Honestly, to Charles, long as you’re looking healthy and strong and responding to him normally he thinks you look GOOD 

Javier 

He likes tall women. That’s it. That’s the tweet. 

In a relationship, Javier is honestly just happy as long as you’re happy, so the moment you show signs of being insecure, he’s on that shit trying to fix it

Pretty in-tune and open with emotions in general, so it’s never been hard for you to talk about these kinds of things together (much less anything else)

Though he’s another guy who just assumes that you already knew he liked how you looked, he’s definitely not one to shy away from telling you OR showing you if there’s ever moments when you’re feeling extra down about it

(But that’s not often since he isn’t really shy about loving on you) 

Especially if he gets to kiss you and make you smile or laugh while doing it

Whispers in your ear about how much he loves you, hands are always NOT where they should be, creeping up your skirt and trousers, limbs all tangled up when you lay on each other at the campfire, etc. 

Probably the easiest one to talk to about the whole thing, as he’s always willing to listen to you and immediately understands what you mean when you bring it up 

Since I’m sure he sometimes feels like the shortest guy in the group

That being said, since you’re not afraid to be honest about how you feel, you balance each other out very well

And Javier loves knowing he’s the only one who gets to take you down (SPICY!!!) 

If another guy makes any comments about you, expect him to get pretty raunchy about how much he likes you

(For Ex: You wish you were me, bitch!!!) 

It’s both flattering and embarrassing at the same time

Sean 

The fact that you even gave Sean the time of day is enough to make his pants tight, so he is definitely not thinking about your height

There is probably nothing wrong with you that he can actually point out, and probably genuinely thinks that you have no flaws

He honestly doesn’t even figure that there’s anything you could actually insecure about, mostly because he loves all of you, always has, and probably always will 

So to learn you’re unconfident about your height is kinda shocking to him

Especially since he also isn’t shy about loving on you 24/7… 

So for it not to be enough to quell your worries… that must mean it’s pretty serious 

(He’s like: “ARE YA KIDDIN?”) 

Definitely does his best to vocally and physically reassure you all the time (even if you don’t need it)

(He’s not as smooth as Javier is, though)

All his suggestive comments get a thousand times worse, and he’s always at your side or trailing right behind you

Also always wants you in his lap. No matter what. Be in his lap. Aggressively pats his lap until you sit on him. 

Definitely randomly points out you guys are together to whoever is even remotely looking ing your direction

“You see that fine thing? Yea, that one… She’s all mine…” klsdjfalksjd

It probably gets to the point where he starts using embarrassing nicknames or getting in the way of being sneaky and you have to tell him to knock it off

(Unless you’re, idk, into it *wink wonk*) 

But he really just means well  

He just really doesn’t want you to feel insecure about yourself, and would do anything to change that, even if it’s a little overbearing

[windhamsrotunda]

Edge (Adam Copeland) x Female Reader! - Tongue Tied {PT 1}.

Pairing(s) - Edge (Adam) x Female Reader! (Y/N)

Category - FLUFF AND SMUT.

Summary - Edge and Y/N are in a long distance relationship, they have known each other for over 2 years. One day, Edge and Y/N finally meet; And so on.

Requested By - N/A

Warning(s) - Strong Language, Smut and FLUFF.

Word Count - 1k+

Tagging(s) - @theonelazywolf, @hplightoutlander, @mackenzie2597, @lghockey , @hungmanhorsecarriage, @heelstylerollins , @enigmaticandunstable, @ava-valerie, @snarkandsarcasmftw, @rosyredapples, @ringer04, @junglecassidy 💓

It all started with a "Hello?" over the video call from Adam: "Hey! It's Edge. How are you doing lovely?" He asked Y/N, his online best friend of two years. "I'm doing good actually since you've called! Thank you for asking!" A smile crept on the face of Edge, his smile was brighter than ever. "So, anything new with you, Edge?" She asked over the video call, smiling back at him. "Other than working out and taking care of life; I've recently won the Royal Rumble." Edge said proudly, proud of what he accomplished. 

"I've saw! I was so damn excited for you! What championship are you going after?" Inquired Y/N. Edge had to think long and hard - Then came up with: "I've never held the NXT Championship." "Well, I think per say if you do go after the NXT Champion, you'll do just fine!" She smiled. Edge and Y/N spent over 2 hours on the phone. "Can I ask you something that has been on my mind for a really long time?" Asks Y/N bravely, trying not to mess this conversation up. "Of course, give me something."

"I was wondering… Can we meet in real life sometime?" She covered her face, "No no… I think it's too soon---" Edge cut her off nicely, "No! Never too soon or too early to meet! Sure! What's the day and time so that I know what my schedule will look like?" She was in utter shock that her best friend of 2 years online had even said yes: "Umm. Whenever you're ready. I know you're a real busy person; So am I. But let me know when you're free okay?" "Okay, will do." "Thanks, I gotta go; It was nice talking to you over the phone again Edge!" She smiled once again, watching him wave bye before they hung up. And so, she hung up. "Shit. This is it." She thought. "This is going to be the end of me."

Well, a nice "end of her". Not a detrimental one. Laying in bed, she glanced over the clock: "Damn. 10pm? Can't be that late." She always thought whether 10 or 11 at night was late: Thoughts traced back to the first conversation on Instagram Edge and Y/N had begun. The time where he supported Y/N throughout the whole 2 years; Through it all: The good times, and the bad times. "I'm so tired, I might as well go to sleep." She groans, but Edge was on her mind. Rethinking about how they're going to meet, how they're going to hug. How they're actually going to start a real life conversation.

***AT THE AIRPORT***

As Edge was ready to fly off to Oxford, PA; Where Y/N had lived, He texted her: "I am on my way to Oxford, Pennsylvania. :)" Less than a minute later, Y/N responded back quickly. "Can't wait to meet you, Edge!" He read the text and smiled to himself. Pushing his phone into his back pocket, he put his mask on over his face - Due to this COVID-19 Pandemic, he had to sit by himself, socially distant. It was an 8 hour airplane fly; He found himself trying to bring up the courage to say he liked her more than a best friend. Inserting his headphones in his ears, he listened to Foo Fighters "Times Like These". Soon after that, he fell right asleep on the plane, knowing it was going to be a long airplane ride.

***8 HOURS LATER***

"Arrived." Edge's phone had said vocally as if it was Siri. "Here I am. Now, off to Y/N's house." He thinks, very confidently. He grabbed his luggage, and headed his way to a Taxi. Getting in, he sat down, until the guy who was driving the Taxi asked dumbfounded: "Are… Are you Edge!?" Edge responded with: "You think you know me?" Jokingly, then said: "Yes I am." "Where are we off to, Edge?" The Taxi driver inquires. "*insert random address here*" He told the driver, the driver nodded and drove to that exact location. While waiting on his arrival, he tapped his foot on the taxi flooring nervously; "This is it. This is going to be the end of me." Swallowing hard, a lump in his throat had made its way in. You could tell Edge was extremely nervous, his hands were sweating, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face - Doing this for Y/N meant more than anything in the world - He wanted to make her happy, and himself happy.

 "Remember, don't fuck this up." Thinking to himself, Edge arrived at Y/N's house. Taking deep breaths, he stepped out of the Taxi and watched the Taxi driver smile at him, then pull out of the driveway and sped off. He wanted to make this a surprise ---

Stepping up on Y/N's doorstep, he knocked on the door. Waiting for an answer for at least a good 30 seconds, she answered. Then, stopped dead in her tracks. "E-Edge?" Her mouth flung open, "I…. I didn't know you arrived or anything--" He cut her off with a huge sudden hug. She began to cry on his shoulder, sobbing. "I'm so glad I'm here." Edge whispered in her ear, stroking her back. "I'm glad too." Stepping inside, still attached to each other in an embrace, he kicked the door closed with his foot. "God I love you." He announced aloud, Y/N's face was a shocked facial expression. "I love you too…. Edge." She slowly said, with no questioning behind his secret love for her.

"You know, I wanted to tell you this. My gut in my stomach was making me want to tell you this for a  long time." He continued on: "I'm in love with you. I always dreamt of being with you, and… And holy shit, is this real." He laughed, turning his attention all on Y/N. "Y/N, I want to love you as much as I can. Physically, Spiritually. You know." Y/N was lost for words, he ran his fingers through his best friend's hair: "Y/N L/N, I fucking love you. Lots." She was in her own feelings, her cheeks heated; Blushing madly like a mad woman, Y/N stopped Edge's rambling and kissed him. Edge kissed her, no hesitant reaction. Holding her into place, they made out. Fireworks spurted through both of the stomachs of Y/N and him, "I love you I love you." He muttered in between those breaths he shared with his best friend.

Y/N smiled, "I love you more." Hands calloused against the face of Edge, she slid the cardigan off of his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He pulled away, "Wait. Are you sure you want to do this?" He looked in the eyes of Y/N dead serious, "Yes." Was what she said. Silence broke between the two, he undid his bun that was perfectly fit into his hair - "You wanna go first?" He asked, not wanting to force anything on her. "You haven't seen me naked before…" "Can I go first?" A gentle smile appeared on the face of Edge, slowly taking his shirt off. Revealing his 6 pack and biceps, he looked at his shirt in his hand, looked at Y/N who was staring at him. A dark smirk appeared on his face - "Are you lost, baby girl?" His eyes eager, Y/N kicked her heels off, and approached him. "I'm lost with you." She smirked back.

A tease. Thought Y/N in her head, kissing the neck of Edge, he softly moaned in her ear. "Mhm." He placed a hand behind her neck, pulling her close. "I want you, damn all of you." She growled, Edge accepted the invitation, grasped her thighs, pulled her up to his level and smashed his lips against hers once more. Feeling pretty sure and confident of herself, she slowly undid her blouse. As Edge watched on, she undid herself faster. Dropping it to the hardwood floor, Y/N felt her heart hit through the floor; When she saw his bulge in his pants get bigger. "Such a good girl." The Rated R Superstar spoke softly, in a teasing tone. His eyes glanced up at his best friend, then down at his belt buckle. Undoing it, Edge pulled his pants down to his ankles and kicked them off. A. Tease. Thinks Y/N more, liking what she saw.

Edge was now on top of her, face buried in the arch of her neck, moaning hot breaths and plunging deep down. They shared moans, Y/N grabbed a fistful of his hair and screamed when he hit that spot. "I love you, I love you so fucking much." Was Edge's words before collapsing down on her, knees weak and body in pleasure. Panting, she rolled herself over on the other side. "Edge… I want you to know this: I'll love you til' the day I die. Alright?" Panting, he kissed her on the forehead. "I'll take your promise - And I guarantee you will. I will do the same in honor." Stroking her hair, they fell asleep together after a long night of love making.

[string-bean-requiem]

New addition - Vampire!Tattoo Artist!Risotto x Human!Reader

Summary - Ris finds a kitten and brings it home to you

Note - Reader uses She/Her pronouns & is a woman. Modern AU

Genre - Fluff

Animals never really took too much of a liking towards Risotto Nero, who may or may not be disheartened by this very fact, but nevertheless, understands exactly why.

He was mother nature’s very own monstrous concoction of a top class predator. Hunting any and all species with warm, crimson blood flowing within their bodies — the very substance that keeps him alive and functioning — with speed faster than a cheetah in its prime, strength greater than any nation’s army combined, along with nails and teeth that could slice through almost anything thrice more precise than any polished blade ever could.

So while he understood well and why animals were deadly afraid of him, disappointment couldn’t resist its way towards his un-beating heart when yet another dog has scampered away from him, all because he simply glanced its way.

Although, disappointment may to be too light of an adjective to describe the depth of emotions he feels towards the rejection of his favourite companions, as the same species had used to be the ones Risotto would seek comfort in when he was exhausted from his own (or what used to be his own) kind’s reactions towards his... ‘vibe’, as the current time’s society would say. Not that he was surprised with that one though. Even during his time as a human, he was well feared by many other humans. If not for his stature and demeanour, then surely for his occupation as a seasoned assassin.

Even though not much has changed when he does come in contact with most humans these days, especially more-so now that he has sleeves of tattoos complimenting the obsidian of his sclera and the glaring crimson in his iris, there was at least a sanctuary, a safe haven in specific types of people all throughout time: those who do not care, and those who are accepting.

Both of which have never cowered away from him, both of which some makes up Risotto’s close knit circle of people he actively cares about, and both of which can be found in his lover... his partner... his better half — you.

You, who despite your species’ natural evolution in (rightfully) fearing vampires, looked at him and felt nothing of the sort and instead, saw him as Risotto Nero. You saw him as the man he was and is, saw past his predator nature, and proceeded to peel back his guarded layers one by one, each with a softer touch than the last, and always left him craving and breathless, but never regretful.

Sometimes, Risotto even thinks being a blood-sucker isn’t so bad. That all those years spent confused, afraid, and lonely was quite alright. With every memory fracture blurring together into a kaleidoscope of nebulous haze, seeming like a distant past, unfamiliar even, and slowly, he feels it slipping past his fingers with each day he spends with your lovely being. Perhaps, he even feels lucky for having this... predicament of a nature being forced upon him lifetimes ago, seeing as how this exact curse was the reason why he had been able to live long enough to have met you. Ever so often though, he has to pinch himself in an attempt to try to soothe himself from wondering if this was all just a very nice dream (or a very sick and convoluted prank on him) because he feels as if it’s too good to be true... but he knows better than that. The swell of his dead heart just by thinking about the welcome back kiss you always pepper onto his lips when he reaches home reminds him just of that.

However, before Risotto could lose himself further into his reminiscing, a weak, shaky mewl echoes softly from the alleyway to his right. It even surprises him to a point of stillness because it sounded so much like a cry for help — for him, the predator of all beings.

But it couldn’t be, it didn’t make sense for it to be, and he almost starts his journey back home again, until the same frail vocals call out for him once more.

Risotto’s head turns towards the direction of the sound and he’s met with the sight of a sketchy pathway. Not that he had anything to worry about though, he drank blood for a living after all.

As another cry sounds off, Risotto approaches forward with tentative steps, not wanting to scare off the very obviously weak animal whilst trying to show that he meant no harm or malice. It seemed to work, oddly enough, when a tuft of obsidian fur pokes out of the confines of its shabby cardboard box, revealing its bright golden eyes to stare at Risotto’s own crimson pair.

An odd tension enveloped the two beings, and a beat passes before Risotto takes the leap to pet the kitten’s head — and he’s so glad that he did.

How long has it been since an animal has nuzzled its little head into his expectant palm? How many years has it been since the last animal had deemed him safe enough to lick at his hand? How much time has passed since soft little paws have been padded at his hand as if to say “Pet me more!”?

Long enough.

So much so that it has him perplexed that a weak little kitten is not wetting itself in fear of his presence so far. Questions and guesses as to why whirls in his head, yet he couldn’t help but find himself almost giddy at the turn of events... at this brave little Bombay.

Risotto’s excitement is cutoff short when he notices its shivering body, which is quite unsurprising, as the little fellow was showing signs of being on the edge of malnourishment, and his heart squeezes a little at that.

With careful and steady movements, showing that once again he meant no harm, he shrugs off his coat, hoping it’ll be of use to keep the animal warm, and with the utmost care and gentleness he could muster, wraps it up and tucks its back into its makeshift shelter. Risotto makes sure the kitten’s safe and comfortable before ultimately deciding to bring it home with him, to you, while wondering along the journey if you would want to keep it as much as he does.

God, he hopes you do, but he knows cats can be picky with who they want to show affections to, who they want to accept as their caretaker, and he thinks he would be disheartened greatly if the animal in his hold did not take a liking to you. It would be such a cruel fucking joke if the one animal who didn’t shun or cower at him liked him, but not you, especially since he knows you’ve been wanting a cat for a long time, having unintentionally overheard this desire of yours with your friend a while back when they came to visit you. And it would be so cruel when he finally finds one that won’t claw at his eyes 24/7 that it may end up trying to claw your eyes instead.

You better like her. I won’t know what to do if you don’t...

With each step bringing Risotto closer to your shared home, he grows a little more tense at the prospect of introducing the stray to you, how it’ll react, how it’ll go down... and before he knows it, he’s already through the front door and calling out your name to signal his arrival home.

“Welcome home, Ris. How was work today?”, your voice echoes a little in the cozy space. The domesticity of your tone etches into his memories and he files away into a secure space in his heart, feeling his worries calming by the second.

He could never get tired of this — of you, in the home you’ve both built together, where happiness and content are seeped into every crevice with a warm smile and soft eyes and even softer hearts.

A moment passes as he commits this scene into his heart, like he had done so with every other point in time that he has shared with you, and he realises he’s gone off track a little when your curious eyes continues to peer at him, his sudden stillness, and the cardboard box in his arm.

“It was a slow day at the parlour...”, Risotto quickly mumbles. His lips soft and warm against your smiling ones, lingering for a beat longer than usual, wanting to bask in your familiarity to ease the nerves beginning to flutter again. “...but a couple of interesting things happened.”.

Risotto pulls away and immediately misses your warmth. Twinges of strained excitement begin to dig deeper into the depths of his abdomen, and he can’t help but hope once again that the little fur ball would take a liking to you because fuck does he wants to raise it with you so damn much.

“Oh?”, your eyebrow raises inquisitively, “Does it have anything to do with that box in your hand?”.

Risotto all but nods in accordance and settles the cardboard box onto the coffee table. Your curiosity peaking as you glance between the shabby box and his gaze.

“I overheard you wanting a cat once. And I know it’s hard to have a pet around with my... disposition, but...”, he trails off when he reaches towards the box to dig out the star of today’s show, still bundled in his heavy coat.

“No way...”.

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shot upwards and your grin spreads itself wide across your lips when a tiny head of fur ruffles itself out of its makeshift bed.

Slits of honied gold peered at you from its position, wary and cautious of its own safety with every step you take forward. Risotto own breath subconsciously bates as your hand inches towards the Bombay’s head apprehensively. You’ve already surmised that this little kitten is more than fine with your vampiric lover, seeing as how it seems to make itself completely at home in his coat and in his hold, so the only hurdle left to complete your new family was for the same kitten to take a liking to you as well, and the pressure was gnawing its way at your nerves. The both of you were well aware that cats were picky with who they liked, and if this one cat didn’t like you... you wouldn’t know how to handle that and it’s consequences.

You honestly didn’t want to even think about the consequences... and it seemed like you didn’t have to.

It immediately took a liking to you, nuzzling it’s head into your hand before licking at your digits the same way it did with Risotto earlier today.

It likes you, and most of the tension unravels it’s hold on his muscles. The hardest hurdle was over, leaped in perfect form and done with, and Risotto sighs in relief before he asks, “Do you want to keep it?”.

The chances of you rejecting this proposal was practically nonexistent, seeing as how your eyes are practically glimmering at the kitten pawing at your fingers, but he was a gentleman and he wanted your verbal confirmation to expanding your family together. You, of course, agreed without a beat of hesitation, all while cooing and petting the mewling Bombay in his arms.

God, he could live in this moment forever.

A vivid smile takes over Risotto’s features as he steals your attention for a bit, his fingers tipping your chin upwards quick enough for you to catch his dimples making their coveted appearance, and you have to take a moment to re-collect your swooning self. He always did look the most lovely when he was unabashedly happy, something you pride yourself on being able to bring out of him. But before he could swoop in for another kiss, your brain kickstarted and suddenly you remembered.

“Wait you said ‘a couple of interesting things happened’... what’s the other thing?”.

“Oh. A pair of drunkards walked in during the afternoon and demanded to get matching tattoos of each other’s irises on their nipples. I refused, of course.”

“...what?”, your eyes widened in disbelief.

You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the incident, and the fact that Risotto had delivered it as deadpan as ever, which is totally up your alley in terms of humour, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to give him a chuckle. Instead, all you felt was concern and disbelief bubbling at the blatant entitlement and stupidity the drunkards had displayed to your beloved.

“Are you feeling okay? Did they hurt you?”, you voiced. Your tone soft, but not without your signature protective edge reserved for your loved ones, and you find one of your hands leaving the kitten to reach out to cup Risotto’s warming cheek.

He understands how you must be feeling, knowing that beneath your nonchalant personality reveals a more protective side, and he loves that about you. He loves that no matter how extreme or how insignificant the matter is, you’d always show him that you’ll care for and about his wellbeing, going as far as even fighting for him and his honour, even if he’s the one who’s a powerful supernatural being.

He loves it, he loves you, and he loves how you’re so consistent in your love for him, and in this moment, he feels it once again and melts into your palm.

“Yes, and yes.”, Risotto’s voice is just a touch tender as he drowns in the love pouring from your eyes. “No need to worry about me, biddùzza. I’m a vampire. I could drain them dry before they can even blink.”, he reassures.

Your posture relaxes and you can’t help but huff out a chuckle at his words, being able to finally find his apathy and the situation a little funny in its own way. But that doesn’t mean he still should just keep up that attitude forever. Always easier to be safe than sorry. Powerful supernatural hunter or not.

“You know I can’t help it. You’re too soft, Ris.”, you want to take on a scolding tone, but how could you when he looks at you like that? Like you’ve hand-crafted every single good and beautiful thing in this world with graceful weaves and gentle touches... like you’re the sole reason the moon glows every night its own nebulous light, surrounded by clouds of stars and quiet skies... How could you when he looks at you like you’ve bloomed spring to his world drowning storms?

A sigh holds itself back in your throat, opting instead to lean in and peck his lips, pillowy with just a touch of coldness that you’ve grown to be fond of, before returning your attention back to the eager little kitten in his arms again, and Risotto commits the sweetness of your smile and the fondness in your eyes for the purring animal to his already expansive memory.

“That’s reserved only for you...”, he murmurs.

A millennia ago, if someone were to tell Risotto that he’d be happily committed to his human partner, voice fond and gaze overflowing with adoration as he listens to them worry over his well-being and comfort whilst they pet a purring little kitten in his hands, he’d have ripped their head off for spouting something so absurd... for taunting him with something seemingly so unobtainable.

But here he is, lips meeting yours again in a loving kiss, with warm blissful domesticity encapsulating your shared home as the new addition to your little family nuzzles itself into his palm.

...and now you too.

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 3

[ couldn't write for a while but [ hands you a glimpse into Felix's gay brain ] come and get your juice ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It took a while after getting upstairs for Felix to grab everything he needed (literally just the clothes he was going to change into, he was just easily distracted), but finally he was in the bathroom.

He didn’t shower in the mansion bathroom very often, since he lived in the cabin on the property, so he was immediately worried about the thing in the walls.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

Slowly, he made his way over to the most uncluttered wall that would have the crawl space attached to it. He knew it wasn’t omniscient, so if it were far enough away, it wouldn’t hear him. Hopefully it would be attached enough to Greta that it would be downstairs.

He paused for a moment, let out a breath, and lightly knocked three times on the wall. Three knocks was a greeting, or a goodbye between them. The thing usually only took a few seconds to respond.

…

Silence. Felix let out a sigh of relief, making his way over to the shower and turning it on. It was an old shower, but comfortable. He really did enjoy any chance he could use it without worry.

After a few seconds of making sure the water was at the right temperature, he started getting undressed. The overalls were off first, followed by the sweater he wore in the colder seasons. And then there was his binder.

He used to struggle a lot more with taking it off when he first started wearing it, but now he pulled it over his head without a fight. He draped it over the sink, away from his dirtied clothes, since he only really washed it when he absolutely needed to.

The water was almost scalding when Felix stepped into it, but that was on purpose. He’d basically shot his nerves when it came to hot water, barely feeling it if it wasn’t hot enough to leave marks on his skin.

He’d been told multiple times to go to therapy because of this. He assumed his nerves were so fucked because of the arson. Who fucking knows, he refused to go to a doctor.

The shower didn’t last very long, Felix just took as long as he needed to get the dirt off him and be done. The longest part was his hair, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d even gotten all the soap out of his hair by the time he stepped out of the shower.

It was while he was drying off his hair that he noticed the change in the room. Next to the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d laid out to change into sat a dark green, and very large, cardigan.

Felix knew for a damn fact that he hadn’t put that there. He didn’t even own cardigans- just an assload of sweaters. So where did this come from? It was too large to belong to Greta, too tattered too.

After a few seconds, it clicked. It belonged to the thing in the walls. The thing that always heard him complaining about the cold, or how it was hard to hide when he wasn’t wearing a binder.

And, it seemed, it finally did something about it.

Theoretically, he enjoyed the gesture. He was definitely going to wear it, the warmth was worth it, but still… this meant that it had come in while he was showering, and he hadn’t heard it. That didn’t imply good things.

He got dressed quickly, pausing before pulling on the cardigan. It was huge on him, even though he was average height and pretty well built. It smelled like wood, and smoke. It was… incredibly comfortable too.

After quickly glancing in the mirror, the green of the cardigan making the green of his eyes really pop. It probably helped that he was extra pale from the blast of hot water, bringing his freckles out as well.

He didn’t look too long. Felix didn’t like his face, and staring at it would make him shut down.

---

Greta had already started on dinner when he made it to the kitchen, and he was pleased to find Brahms sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey. Sorry if you’ve been waiting long,” he said, rolling up the cardigan sleeves and jumping right into helping. She was making a soup apparently, probably because they didn’t have much at the moment. Malcolm was supposed to deliver some groceries tomorrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” Greta replied, handing him a knife and some vegetables to cut. He didn’t hesitate before getting into it, making quick work of them. “I hope soup is okay. We really need groceries.”

Felix hummed in response, keeping most of his focus on what he was doing. “Soup is always good, I’m just glad we could make something at all.”

Silence fell after that. They weren’t friends, they really didn’t have all that much to talk about. So they worked. At least it made the cooking go faster.

---

“So, where’d this come from?” Greta asked after they were finished and sitting down to eat, gesturing to the cardigan. He was surprised she could tell that it wasn’t his, especially because she knew next to nothing about him. Maybe it was because it was so big, or because of it being a dark colour.

Felix shrugged at the question, not willing to scare her off when Brahms clearly liked her. “It just kind of showed up. I’ve probably had it for years without realizing it. I can be forgetful like that sometimes.” No, he couldn’t. Distractible? Sure. Forgetful? Unfortunately, his memory was near photographic.

But Greta accepted it without question, just like he thought she would. It seemed like she was doing everything she possibly could to not question anything about this house. He vaguely wondered if she had seen Brahms move yet, but he doubted it.

When they were finished, it was Brahms’s bedtime. After making Greta promise she would follow the bedtime rules properly, he let her go to put the doll to bed, cleaning up the kitchen for her.

He heard rustling in the walls as Greta headed upstairs and smiled slightly to himself, knowing that the wall thing was making sure that she followed the rules.

The thought made him pull the cardigan tighter against himself, surprised at his own fondness toward the thing. Six years was a long time to grow attached to something, and he was honestly fine with being attached to it. After all, he never truly interacted with it. It probably wouldn’t hurt him.

Probably.

He shook those thoughts away, finished cleaning, and headed upstairs for bed. Greta’s door was already closed, Brahms was in bed, and the walls were quiet. Felix inspected his temporary bedroom once arriving at it, only laying down when he was satisfied that it was empty.

For once, sleep came easy.

---

The next morning, Felix woke up before Greta, and about an hour before Brahms needed to be woken up. Happy for the chance to get something done without Greta in the way, or needing to look out for Brahms, he wasted no time in getting up and dressed. He laid the cardigan out neatly on his bed for the thing to take back, making sure to close the door when he left the room.

Once downstairs he did some cleaning to take a bit of the workload off of Greta. Before heading out to do his gardening, he paused, glancing around the kitchen. They really needed that grocery delivery today, but he figured he could make breakfast before becoming the garden cryptid again.

So, he made something simple and wouldn’t need to be warm, put it in the fridge, and left a note for Greta. Once satisfied, he grabbed his gloves and headed outside. He’d probably come back in when Malcolm got there, just because there was something he’d need for later that he needed to ask him to grab.

It was time for Brahms to be woken up by the time Felix had started his gardening, a small smile crossing his lips when he looked up at the window and saw the light click on, followed by Greta opening up the curtains.

Well, maybe she was finally taking him seriously. He hoped so. He would sure hate to hate someone like her. She was nice and all, and really the only off thing that she’d done so far was not take care of Brahms right.

How unfortunate that that would change.

Felix happened to walk in during a conversation between Greta and Malcolm, relieved he hadn’t missed the man. He only caught part of the conversation, something about going out tonight. He didn’t hear Greta’s response, so he wasn’t annoyed yet, but it was getting there.

“Hey Malcolm,” he said as he grabbed a bottle of water, taking a sip before continuing, “could you grab something for me next time you go out? Nothing time sensitive or anything, it would just make my life a little easier.

Malcolm, sensing the change in conversation, replied without hesitation. “Sure man, what do you need?”

“A new pair of garden gloves, mine are falling apart. I’d get them myself but I don’t have a car and you know I don’t like leaving the grounds.” Felix was a little surprised when Malcolm nodded and wrote it down, but relieved. He really did need those gloves.

“I can grab ‘em for you today, I’ll be coming back tonight anyway,” Malcolm said as he tucked the small notepad back into his jacket. Felix immediately narrowed his eyes at him, his expression asking the “why” that he didn’t vocalize.

That’s when Greta cleared her throat and stepped in. “Malcolm offered to take me out to see the town tonight, and I accepted,” she explained, cringing at the harsh glare Felix sent her way. Before he could say anything, she continued, “Brahms will already be in bed by the time I leave! So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? She was breaking the rules! And it would know!! It was significantly more dangerous than Felix was!!!

He let out a sigh that bordered dangerously on a growl, before running a hand through his short hair and deciding that this was a battle he shouldn’t fight. “Whatever. Don’t say shit to me when something bad happens because you chose to break the rules.”

“Oh, come on man, she shouldn’t be cooped up in here-” Malcolm tried to step in, only to be cut off by Felix’s shears hitting the table hard enough that it shook.

“Don’t try to tell me what should or should not be happening here!” he snapped, the rage bubbling over before he could stop it. It was his fatal flaw- shortest temper in the Shaw family. “All I know is that she’s breaking the damn rules, and we’re all gonna get hell because of it!”

He hated arguing. He did. So, with that, before they could continue, he stormed off. Before he knew it, he had slammed his bedroom door and fallen heavily onto his bed. It took a godly amount of self control to not break anything, but he managed.

This was slowly but surely turning into a fucking nightmare.

[opbackgrounds]

Hi there Sarc' ;) I am sorry if the question has already been asked but I thought it could be interesting to have your opinion about this. While I love most of the female characters in OP and think that most of them are well developed and can be truly good role models for girls I still feel that Oda sometimes has a sexist view on female characters (the jokes about the naked bath scenes for example or Kororo being considered ugly make me really uncomfortable). What do you think about it?

Ah, I wondered when I would get this question. 

When people talk about sexism in One Piece they typically are referring to two different things: How women are drawn, and how they’re treated within the narrative. While there’s some overlap here, there’s enough distinction that I want to address them as two separate points in two separate posts, because I guess I had Opinions, and by god there should be a limit to how much text one tumblr post can be expected to hold. Consider this an introduction.

Buckle up, kiddos. This is gonna be a long one. 

Nami Face Syndrome Isn’t the Problem...

An important thing to remember with Oda’s art and storytelling style is that almost everything is hyper exaggerated for effect. You don’t go into One Piece looking for realism. You don’t go into One Piece expecting the characters to act like normal people. Everything--from the art to the humor to the battles--is stretched and pulled to its absolute limit in hopes of garnering a particular reaction. When a character is sad they cry big bubbly tears with dribbles of snot coming from their nose. When they laugh their mouths take up half their face. 

And when a girl is hot, her tiddies are two great big watermelons stuck to the center of her chest.

What is often dubbed “Nami Face Syndrome” within the fandom is somewhat misleading. After all, why was Wanda, who is a literal dog that walks on two legs, decried as yet another Nami clone at her introduction? I would postulate it’s less to do with her face and more to do with the fact that from the neck down they are virtually identical, something that’s made more obvious because Wanda is literally wearing Nami’s clothes

What makes this frustrating for a lot of people, myself included, is that it’s not that Oda is incapable of drawing more diverse body types, but that he often chooses not to. Take for example the Kuja tribe

or the Charlotte family daughters (thanks to Arthur at Library of Ohara for the resource). It’s pretty clear Oda has the chops to make his women as weird as the men, and he often does! For important characters, even. And yes, as the Kokoro example given above sometimes the gonkness is brought attention to, but for others like Lola and Chiffon it’s...not. 

(more on mermaids later)

But Sarcasticles, one might protest, even Oda’s “ugly” characters have ginormous boobs! Where is my itty bitty titty committee representation >:(

To which I can only shrug. For Oda, boobs on a woman are like abs on men. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, they’re gonna have ‘em

Seriously, Oda. What the fuck.

...So What Is?

I have a theory that’s impossible to prove, and that the problem isn’t so much Oda’s character design so much as the ratio of his male to female characters in general. It’s not that every female character is a Nami clone, but Oda has a template he uses for attractive female characters ages 16-25, the same way he uses Robin as a template for attractive women ages 26-35, which is how you get cases of mistaken identity like Viola for Robin or scenes during Reverie where one could be forgiven for thinking Nami’s supposed to be an identical triplet

 Oda does this for his men, too. It’s not as obvious because 1) Even men with similar facial features can have a wider variety body types due to Oda having a sliding scale of buffness he’s willing to attach to a pretty face and 2) There are more men. 

There are a lot more men.

In groups where the male to female ratio is more or less equal (Baroque Works, Big Mom’s kids) you get a wide variety of designs. But there’s only one female Supernova. There’s one female Warlord. CP9 only has one female agent. Only one of the Revolutionary Commanders is a woman. There are very few female background characters in crowd shots, especially among marines. Big Mom might be the only female Emperor, but she’s not young, In fact, when drawing her at age 28, Oda defaults to a much more generic “pretty girl” face before giving her much more striking, memorable features in her 40s

If you look at Oda’s male characters, the ones that are supposed to be hot are often given the same square jawline and the thin-bladed nose that at one point in time was reserved for Robin. Both Coby and Sabo had very distinctive noses before their glowups, while Ace must have had a laser treatment done on his eyebrows sometime between Alabasta and Marineford. 

But the biggest difference on the men has got to be muscle mass. The overgrown noodles of early One Piece are lost to the annals of time. Shanks alone must have gained 30 pounds of pure muscle from the time Luffy got his first bounty to his appearance at Marineford. 

Now, I will acknowledge that there is a difference between the increasing sexualization of female characters and the male power fantasy of giving Zoro bara tiddies post-timeskip. While I do think there are certain male characters specifically designed to be the Hot Dude, what I’m trying to emphasize here is that Oda works with templates for both men and women, and both of those templates have been exaggerated over time. Bigger boobs for women, more muscles for men. And when you’re only slotting for one girl in any given group, and that one girl has to be The Hot One then you’re going to have a lot of ladies that end up looking the same. 

My love for Otohime on this blog is well known, and I want to use her as an example of what Oda can do when he works beyond this template, because it’s really freaking good  

Otohime is neither conventionally attractive nor gonk. She’s dressed in very conservative, traditional clothing and has a narrow waist and small chest. 

There are no sharp edges on Otohime. Not her eyebrows, not her jaw, and most of the time not even her hands, emphasizing her gentle nature. You don’t see it as well in this panel, but Otohime’s head is often drawn wider than her shoulders, emphasizing her frailty. Oda gives her a longer neck to compensate, and the overall effect is a very soft, willowy figure. 

Her headpiece looks like a sunburst. The audience never sees her fins, so Oda gives her a scale patterned kimono-dress-thingy (my knowledge of Japanese clothing is, uh, not good) as a visual reminder that she’s not human. The sash that circles around her head harkens back to Japanese mythology as a symbol of divinity, similar to a halo in Western culture. And fun fact: Otohime is named after a god, just like Neptune, while her goals and ideals are pure enough to be heaven-sent. 

I’m not an artist, but this is a really damn good character design. A lot of Oda’s older female characters are. Dandan, Tsuru, O-Tsuru, Shakky, Kureha, Big Mom, and Nyon are all instantly recognizable and have strong designs, even if a few of them fall into the hourglass figure that Oda often defaults to. It’s just...there aren’t that many of them.

So the question becomes why aren’t there more women, and I think the answer is because, ultimately, One Piece is a series geared at boys. While I wish there were a few more important ladies, I can understand why there aren’t. 

Note, that doesn’t mean I think it’s right or that Oda is obligated to include more women. It’s just one of the facts of the shonen manga industry at this point in time. 

A more important question, I think, is why does every younger woman have to be attractive? And why do the attractive ladies have to wear outfits that are blatant fanservice? This is something I don’t have an answer for. Oda has said on more than one occasion that he writes One Piece with his twelve year old self in mind. It could be that it’s a calculated move to appeal to his audience, in which case it’s certainly worked because said Hot Ladies are constantly used in marketing and merchandising. It’s the Hot Ladies that top the popularity charts (although, to be fair, who’s there for competition?). In the most recent chapter a new Hot Lady was introduced, and the fandom went batshit crazy for her.

Even the fans who are very vocal about how Oda sucks at drawing women. It’s interesting how that works out sometimes.

Or maybe I’m giving Oda too much credit, and he’s just horny. Not having direct access to Oda’s mind, I don’t have an answer. If I had to guess I’d say it’s a little of Column A, a little of Column B, because that’s usually how life is. 

But in a vacuum big tiddies are just a design choice. An exaggerated aesthetic, in a series full of exaggerated aesthetics. It’s when that design choice is paired with in-story comments, actions, and decisions where things really start to get heated. But that’s a whole other ball of wax, and there should be a limit to how much one tumblr post can be expected to hold. I promise I’ll get to the meat of your question next time.

Thank you so much for your patience. I really do think it’s important to start here before diving into everything else, if only because it helps keep my thoughts organized. I hope you’ve found this helpful, and if not, I hope to do better next time. 

[johnnycranes]

[reupload cuz i decided to post this chapter here as well since i met a lot of new people in the fc5 fandom recently <3]

next chapter of Some Kind of Second Chance is up. special shoutout to all my mutuals who tagged me in WIPs and to the amazing @desertvvitch who motivated me to post this thing!!

Whole thing is up on AO3

Word count: 3,364

Chapter 6: Revelations and Rifles

When Sydney came to, part of her hoped the hit she took to the head also knocked her memory back. But nope, still didn’t know who the voices in her head were.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a wall decorated with different pictures of the Seed family and of Eden’s Gate. Next thing she noticed was that she was sitting on the floor and her wrists were bound in front of her to a metal pipe, kept in place with a ziplock tie.

She looked down at herself and saw she was still dressed in the shorts and tank top she was in when she left her cabin, the only thing missing was her jacket.

Looking around a bit more, it didn’t appear to be like any of the cabins in the compound. More like the inside of a trailer house. Something glinted on the floor and Sydney realized there were shards of glass littered around the room of what looked like a small trailer. If she could just reach out for a sharp enough piece, she could find a way to cut open the ziplock tie.

Whoever took her clearly didn’t think this all the way through, practically handing her a means to escape.

Oh shit, or was this some kind of creepy Saw thing? Either way she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

She stretched her leg and started pushing a few shards towards her with her foot. Thankfully her captors were also kind enough to leave her sneakers on.

Sydney was able to drag some shards close to her when she heard a door open. She hid the shards under her legs quickly as the footsteps of whoever arrived got louder.

Two men wearing Eden’s Gate clothes walked into the room, sneering at her as soon as they spotted her. They didn’t look like anyone she knew.

“Good morning, sunshine.” The one with long unruly hair said.

“So sorry if we kept ‘ya waitin.” The bald one said.

Sydney shook her head. “Oh not at all. Just woke up actually. Comfy floor here.”

“The fuck?” Long-hair asked.

“You have any idea why you’re here, girlie?” bald one asked, and Sydney assumed he was trying to sound intimidating.

“Why bother? You’re gonna explain it to me anyway ri-”

The bald one slammed the butt of his rifle onto her knee. She groaned in pain, but made sure not to lift her leg so much as to make sure the glass was still hidden.

Hopefully they leave her alone again so she could escape.

It was safe to assume these two were part of the group of soldiers who didn’t like her. So Sydney’s only other option of getting out was someone in the compound noticing she was missing, unless of course the two idiots who captured her were actually smart enough to cover their tracks.

How long was she out? All she could tell from the light coming in from the window was that it was daytime.

“You have the guts to speak to us like that? After all you did, sinner.” Long-hair snarled the last word at her.

Sydney rolled her eyes. “Like I said, still waiting for you to fucking explain.” As far as she was concerned, they could even be Resistance agents in disguise who waited for the perfect chance to strike.

But then again, why target her and not the Seed family?

“You think yer so clever, fooling even the Father with yer fake amnesia bullshit.” Bald guy said.

Sydney huffed out a dry laugh. “Trust me, I wish it was fake. Maybe then I’ll know why you two assholes are pulling stupid shit like this.”

“Enough!” Long-hair yelled. “How dare you. How dare you think we can just accept you into our family, attend sermons with us, all because you supposedly forgot.”

“I did.” Sydney emphasized. “You can ask the doctor, he-”

“You just don’t forget the people you killed!”

Sydney froze.

She what?

The silence was deafening and that’s when the voices attacked. Screams, cries, incoherent shouts, gunshots, explosions, fires. They all invaded her mind.

Her blood ran cold, her hands started shaking and her head was throbbing.

She couldn’t freak out, not now. She tried to keep her breathing under control, long enough to ask, “What?” but it came out so pathetic and soft that she wasn’t surprised when they cackled at her.

Long-hair walked in circles around the room as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Killed. Put a bullet in their heads, threw dynamite at them, hell even cracked open their skulls with a fucking shovel!” He stopped in front of her and tightened his fists. “They were my friends! They gave their lives to protect the Father from you. And now he claims you’ll protect us?”

His fist collided with her cheek. He hit hard but it was better than him using the butt of his rifle.

Or actually shooting her with said rifle.

Sydney slowly turned her head back to face them, ignoring the throbbing in her cheek. She could thank him, actually. At least it distracted her enough to calm down a bit.

There were still so many questions she wanted to ask, but asking her captors may not be the greatest idea.

Their friends? So she killed people from the Project?

She instantly thought of Elena, Trevor and Benjamin.

Who did she kill? Why did she kill? And if she did kill people from Eden’s Gate, why was Joseph okay with her staying on?

Then she remembered the Father’s words the day she arrived at the compound.

So now you shall atone.

Oh fuck. Is that what she was atoning for?

He struck her again. “You are a sinner unworthy of joining us at Eden’s Gate! We will avenge our fallen brothers and sisters, we wi-”

“That’s enough, Kevin.” the bald one said as Kevin punched her once more, on the same cheek and Sydney had to spit blood out.

Kevin backed away from her to face his companion. “She deserves a lot more punishment for everyone she’s killed, Norm. You know that.”

Norm sighed. “We got lucky capturing her when we did. But people will wonder where she is soon so we gotta kill her now.”

Even though her face stung and she had to blink a few times for her vision to steady, she was conscious enough to hear what they said. Sydney knew she was running out of time. If she wanted to escape, she had to do it quickly.

With both her captors distracted and turned away from her, she shifted her legs, feeling the cool glass underneath as she inched them closer to her wrists. She dragged her hands down the pipe and closer to the floor, slowly so as to not get their attention.

Some of the shards cut the inside of her leg but it didn’t matter. She could bandage them up when she was free. She couldn’t bandage a bullet hole to the brain.

Sydney finally got one shard close enough to her hands. She stretched her fingers to grab it and fiddled with it as quickly and as subtly as possible.

Thankfully Kevin and Norm were still busy arguing.

“It’s not enough to just kill her and get it over with!” Kevin yelled. “She showed no remorse, so why should we?”

“Because if they catch us we-”

“Rook! Rook, you here?” All three of them froze when they heard a voice from outside the trailer.

Sydney didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened when she recognized it as Benjamin’s voice. She couldn’t just scream for help. What if he didn’t have a weapon with him? What if they shot him first? Or shoot her then him?

She hid the broken glass in her hand, closing it in a fist.

“Shit. I told you we shoulda killed her right away, Kev!” Norm hissed.

“Shut the fuck up and let me think!”

Benjamin yelled again. “C’mon, Rook. You better not have left the island.” His voice sounded closer that time.

Kevin took two shallow breaths and gripped his rifle tightly. “All right new plan. We kill ‘im both.”

Fuck this wasn’t good.

Sydney chanced using the shard again. She needed to get rid of them before they hurt her and Benjamin.

“What?” Norm whispered nervously.

“He’s gonna come in regardless.” Kevin said. “I’ll shoot ‘im soon as he opens the door. Then we shoot her. Ain’t that what you wanted?”

Norm shook his head. “We don’t kill our own, brother.”

“I’m the one doin’ the work. I’ll be the one to accept atonement for this. Now stay here, keep your gun on ‘er.”

Kevin left the room quietly… on his way to kill her friend.

Something inside Sydney snapped.

She saw visions of herself breaking necks and cracking bones. She couldn’t see the faces of those she killed, but there were so many. She could easily kill Norm now, free herself with the broken glass then slice his neck open or stab him in the vocal cords.

She knew she could do it. Then she could shoot Kevin easily right before he got to Benjamin.

She could.

But she wouldn’t.

If she was a killer before- and by the sudden wave of images that invaded her head, she really was - she wasn’t one now.

Norm wasn’t focused on her, instead staring out the room probably at Kevin, looking like a nervous wreck. And to think he took a cheap shot to her knee just a while ago.

Sydney took that chance to finally cut through the ziptie. She didn’t waste any time and went straight for a still fidgeting and panicking Norm.

No killing.

So she stabbed his hand with the broken shard before he could react and fight back. He screamed as he dropped his rifle and Sydney grabbed it.

She heard Kevin yell ‘What the hell!’ from out in the corridor but she ignored it. Too busy getting her revenge on Norm by slamming his head with the butt of his own rifle, effectively knocking him out.

She took cover by the wall beside the open doorframe and yelled “Benjamin you better have your damn gun with you!” at the top of her lungs.

“Rook?!” Benjamin called from outside.

Then she instinctively ducked her head when bullets whizzed by her. “You fucking bitch!” Kevin screamed over the gunshots.

She checked the ammo of her own gun and thanked Norm for having it fully loaded.

If Kevin was still inside the trailer, that meant Benjamin was safe. And she had to make sure that didn’t change.

“Stay where you are, Ben!” Sydney screamed over another hail of bullets.

“What the hell’s happening?” was his reply.

Kevin cackled, his footsteps getting closer. “Like you care what happens to my brothers and sisters. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone else!”

Sydney gripped the rifle tight, and after taking a deep breath, she moved out of cover and saw Kevin with his gun aimed right at her.

Jacob’s voice rang in her head.

‘You’ve been a damn good shot since you got to Hope County.’

She shot Kevin once, in the hand close to his rifle’s trigger. Kevin dropped his gun, yelping in pain.

Sydney slammed her rifle onto one of his legs, causing him to fall over.

She stood above him, keeping her rifle aimed. She kicked Kevin’s own weapon away as he groaned in pain on the floor.

“Finish me off then. Release that Wrath within you.” He pointed at the tattoo on her chest weakly.

“Shut up.” she hissed.

“You can’t run from your past, sinner. You ca-”

She put the rifle away to bend over and punch him hard in the face, knocking him out. There, now she paid them both back for what they did to her.

Sydney stepped back until she felt a wall behind her and slumped down, taking deep breaths.

Her adrenaline rush was slowly fading and she could feel the stinging pain on her face again and how her wrists were sore from being tied up for God knows how long.

She heard a door slam open followed by hurried footsteps. She looked up and saw Benjamin, his pistol out.

“Rook?” he asked softly.

If Kevin and Norm were telling the truth and she did kill people from the Project, maybe everyone else probably knew. And the scene in front of Benjamin probably looked suspicious, what with her being the only one conscious among the three people inside.

“They kidnapped me. They were gonna shoot you so I escaped, knocked them out and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy Rook.” Benjamin placed his gun back in his holster and raised his arms up peacefully. “I know you didn’t have anythin’ to do with this.”

Sydney could only nod stiffly, grateful to her friend. “How’d you know to look for me?”

Benjamin placed his hands back down, and knelt beside her. “Elena got worried when you didn’t show up for breakfast this morning. She went to your cabin to check in on ya but you weren’t there. She asked me to help look for ya.”

He turned to Kevin then back at her, smirking. “Though it looks like you didn’t need my help.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past nine in the mornin’.”

She rubbed her sore wrists. Ok so she wasn’t out for long. Bless Elena’s kind heart for worrying over her. Sydney made a mental note to hug the old woman the next time she saw her.

“Let’s get you outta here, Rook.” Benjamin said, standing from his seat. “Need to get some ice for yer face.”

She frowned and looked over at Kevin. “What about him? And his friend in the room over there?”

“Pfft, assholes’re outcold. I’ll send somebody to get ‘im when we get back.”

Which reminded her, “Where are we exactly?”

“Still on the Father’s island. We’re in a little trailer not too far from the compound.”

Sydney laughed dryly. “How the fuck did those two even sneak me out of there?”

“Bah, prolly while everyone was attending the early sermon. Jacob’s right, we got great guards but anyone could pass through if they knew what our church schedules are, dammit.”

Sydney lifted her head up hearing the redhead’s name. “Does Jacob know? That I was gone?”

Benjamin sighed. “No, not yet. The plan was to tell him if I didn’t find you around the island. Luckily these two idiots were too afraid to stray far.”

Part of her was relieved that Jacob didn’t know. It meant she had time to process this new information by herself first. If he were the one who found her, she might’ve exploded and demanded answers from him. What were he and Joseph hiding from her? Why were they hiding it from her?

Sydney took one more deep breath before carefully standing up, mindful of the small cuts she still had on her legs from the glass. She strapped the rifle to her shoulder and brushed her hair away from her face.

She nodded at Benjamin and placed a hand on his shoulder as he helped her stand. “Thanks, Benjamin. For not accusing me of attacking them. Wasn’t sure what you’d think when you walked in and saw two bodies on the floor.”

Benjamin chuckled. “Aww hell, Rook! I got your back, I know you ain’t gonna hurt any of our own, unlike the two fools you knocked out.”

She smiled tiredly at him before heading out of the trailer, Benjamin following behind her.

Outside, there were two Eden’s Gate trucks. She found her jacket in what was probably Kevin and Norm’s vehicle.

Benjamin guided her to the passenger seat of the other truck before getting into the driver’s seat himself.

He started the engine before turning to her and softly saying, “Hey, I don’t know what those two said to you but, you’re a good person, Rook. We know you’re atoning.”

Sydney let out a short sob, willing herself not to cry. She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her.

And because she didn’t trust her voice not to crack, she simply said, “Thank you.”

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

It was a short drive back to the compound. Benjamin insisted she visit the infirmary first while he went to find Elena.

The doctor informed her nothing was broken. He gave her an ice pack for the swelling on her face to go down and disinfected the cuts on her legs. Thankfully the punches she took weren’t that strong, she only had a few bruises that should be gone in a day.

Elena practically busted the infirmary doors open, her eyes frantic until she spotted Sydney. The old woman looked like she was about to cry, hugging Sydney tightly. Sydney couldn’t help but hug her back, thanking her for being one of the reasons she was able to escape.

When the doctor was done assessing her, Sydney was free to go.

“You need me to stay with you, hun? Just ‘til you fall asleep?” Elena offered as they walked back to Sydney’s cabin.

Sydney shook her head. “That’s very kind of you to offer but I’ll be fine, thank you. You’ve done more than enough for me, already.”

“Oh hush girl! Like I said, we’re family. Then I’ll be back later to drop off your lunch. You just lie down and get your rest.”

“Thank you, that’d be great.”

They went their separate ways and Sydney saw her cabin in front of her.

She would’ve been relieved if not for Jacob leaning on the door.

She felt her heart sink. As much as she wanted to talk to him about what happened, she needed time to go over her thoughts first, untangle the memories that had begun to resurface.

Sydney stopped right in front of Jacob, who stared down at her intensely.

“You look like shit.” he simply said.

“It looks worse than it feels.”

He brought his hand up to move the hair away from her face, surprising her. He whistled as he looked over the swelling. “Damn, that’s still gotta sting though.”

Her chest tightened as Jacob casually and gently touched her, staring at her with those piercing blue eyes of his that sparkled when he genuinely laughed.

Funny how just a few hours ago, she did see them sparkle and she heard that wonderful laugh of his that made her smile when she and Jacob were talking over glasses of milk.

Then she got kidnapped, found out she was a killer and they didn’t tell her.

She turned her head slightly and Jacob paused before putting his hand back down. “The doc said I should be fine by tomorrow.”

He was still blocking her way and Sydney was about to politely ask him to step aside when he suddenly said, “The guys that took you, they-”

“I didn’t kill them.” she hissed.

“Hey, relax. I know. Your friend Benjamin told me.”

“Then can I go? I wanna get out of these dirty clothes already.”

“Look, Sydney I just-”

“Not now just… not now.” Sydney said softly, hoping he wouldn’t push her further. She didn’t feel like exploding in front of Jacob and the whole compound.

She needed to be alone with her thoughts, settle the crazy mess in her head first.

Jacob sighed heavily before finally moving out of her way. “At least get somethin’ to eat.”

His arm brushed hers as he passed her. She didn’t look back at him as she entered her cabin and closed the door behind her. Ironic how the last time they parted ways, it was a completely different mood.

Sydney took a quick shower to wash all the dirt and blood off of her before putting on some clean underwear and dressing in an oversized white shirt with the Project’s logo on it.

Her cheeks and jaw began to throb painfully and she patted them with the ice pack she was given. She stared up at the ceiling and allowed herself to process what she learned earlier, hoping the voices in her head would cooperate.

[tobi-momo]

Disconnected Fate

a/n: hehe thank you for @velvxtparadise​ for requesting this im so happy you did bc it was an amazing idea (their works are also so amazing you should check ‘em out) but ya THANK YOU ily!!

Disconnected Fate: Soulmate AU/Quirkless AU - Sero x Reader

Synopsis: Soulmates were something to be treasured. The second half of your soul, finally connecting, becoming one. But, you couldn’t really rely on that if your string is cut. But will meeting someone with your same fate change that?

Word Count: 3110

Warnings: Cursing, clubbing, drinking, mentions of vomiting, kissing, old ass pervs, groping (if there are more pls let me know!!) {does include some todomomo and kamijirou}

“Mina, I don’t think this fits very well,” you laugh at your figure in the mirror, turning your body and running your hands down the fabric to slim it down. Mina opens to you, practically jumping at you before placing her hands at your shoulder to rotate your body; jaw dropping at the sight.

“Y/n, shut the hell up. You look so fucking sexy it’s not even funny,” she chuckles, giving your ass a playful smack before tugging at the thin strap that held your dress up. The strings connected to a loose bateau neckline, showing a little cleavage, and looking down, you see the way your snug dress brings out your curves and hips. Wow- you really did look amazing, didn’t you? “Okay, that should do it. Are we ready? The guys are probably waiting for us.”

Your head whips to your friend, who definitely did not tell you about boys being with you. “What? Boys- boys? Mina.”

She looks back at you with a shocked look, making it seem like you knew, and gave a blank, “what?”

“Why didn’t you tell me there would be boys? I only know like, three other people from your friend group, and I’m not even sure they like me.” You complain, leaving the closet for the bathroom to touch up on your makeup before hearing your other bestie chime in.

“Don’t worry, y/n! I like having you around very much, and I’m sure the others will, too!” Momo says, finishing her mascara. 

“Yeah, and you’re fun to duet and play with,” Kyouka acknowledges while painting her nails.

“See?” Mina remarks. “They love you. Eiji has already told the others, and none of them have anything bad to say!”

“Yet.”

“Kyo!” 

“Kidding~” she corrects.

“Y/n, you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, they’ll love you. Just...I don’t know, be yourself!”

“Thanks, Mina, that actually helps a lot,” you smile sarcastically before turning your smile flat. “I’ll be sure to do that once I get over the fact that I’ve never hung out with your friends before.” 

“Oh my God, y/n. Stop stressing. You’ll be fine.” Mina assures. “And maybe you’ll find a little special someone~” she vocalizes and points to the ring finger of your right hand. 

Oh. Right. You thought, looking down at your hand. The red string tied to your finger that connected you to the person the universe wants you to spend the rest of your life with. The string that leads you to the person you’ve always wanted, needed. Your soulmate. You had always wanted that person to come in your life, to sweep you off your feet and be with you for the rest of your days, but it was hard to believe in all that when your string was cut. Your string connected you to your soulmate, so why was yours cut? Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be for you.

“Y/n? Y/n.” You blink up to Mina’s fingers snapping at you.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” you smile, “I just spaced out.”

“Classic y/n.”

“Kyo.” Mina glares at Kyouka.

“What? I’m just sayin’.”

“Okay, are we all done here?” You ask while looking around at Momo, Kyouka and Mina; checking the belongings around them and seeing their small handbags.

“Yup!” 

“Mhm.”

“Finally! Okay, let’s go bitches.” Mina exclaims as Kyouka shakes her head then drags herself up, leaning her head back, an annoyed expression painted on her face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bro, come on! Just have one- ONE- drink. Please?” Kaminari pouts, handing Sero a small glass of whiskey, the ice clinking within the glass.

“I don’t know man. You guys are probably gonna get hammered tonight, and Katsuki refuses to be the DD again,” Sero shrugs back, leaning on the counter of the bar.

“You’re damn right I ain’t the DD tonight. I haven’t had a good drink in a minute, and you guys are annoying as it is, so maybe a couple might make it easier to put up with you.” Bakugou groans, downing his drink, walking up to the bartender to order another one.

“Hey, where are the girls? Are they still coming?” Kirishima asks curiously.

“Uh,” Kaminari pulls his phone out, checking his messages, “they are on their way.”

“Why do they take so goddamn long? It’s annoying.” Bakugou calls out, waiting for his drink impatiently.

“Because they are ladies, Katsuki. They need time to get ready and stuff. You know this,” Kirishima whines, as if he had told him this multiple times.

“I know it’s stupid,” he emphasizes. He gets his drink and continues to sit at the bar, irritated.

Kirishima makes his way over to Sero, who sips his water through the black straw poking out of the glass. He looks bored, but not as if he didn’t want to be there. He always liked hanging out with his friends; the more the merrier. So taking this invitation to hang out with his guy and girl friends was a must. He needed a break from all of the stress school put on him. College was a lot harder than he thought it was going to be. This was a perfect way to distract himself even for a little while and drinking water. His friends would be entertaining enough anyways. 

“Hey, Hanta, you excited for the girls to get here?” Sero’s head whips up, breaking his thoughts. Sitting up straight, he leans back with an elbow on the back of the couch. Kirishima smiles giggly, taking a seat next to him.

“Oh, ya,” he says, as if it was obvious, “excited to see how they act when they black out,” he jokes. The girls were always a handful when drunk, thankfully some had their boyfriends to take care of them, but the boyfriends were always a little drunk, too.

“Ha ha, yeah, always super fun,” Kirishima replies sarcastically, knowing exactly what Sero is thinking. “What about you, Shoubro?”

Todoroki was sitting at the end of the table awkwardly, waiting for more company. He looked lonely, but patient. He looked up at his nickname Kirishima gave him tiredly. “Hmm?”

“Excited for the girls to get here?” 

“I guess. They will make the night more entertaining.” See, he knows, too. The girls were known for making the night more interesting. Whether it was karaoke, body shots, dancing, or even fighting with douchebags that tried to dance with them. The night always ended on a good note either way, so whoever was staying sober sure had a sight to see.

“Oh, here come the girls,” Kaminari chimes in, putting his phone in his back pocket before turning around for the door. Three girls walk in: Mina, Kyouka, and Momo. Wait- where were you? Didn’t Mina say something about bringing a friend?

“Hey, boys,” Mina greets, “how are we this fine evening?” She says smoothly, strutting her way to the bar. “Four vodkas, please.”

“You havin’ all of those? Momo and Kyo don’t usually have vodka.” Kaminari laughs, a jokingly confused question.

“Oh, y/n is gonna be here in a sec, and she likes vodka. A lot. So half of these are for her.” Mina smiles as she carefully grabs the shots and cautiously carries them to the table where Momo, Todoroki, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Kyouka reside. She sets them down, keeping a close eye not to spill, and starts walking over to your figure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You head into the club, surprised the music isn’t louder, while avoiding the other people around the area. You knew at places like this it got a little crowded and hectic, so you just wanted to find Mina before anything else. With your hands behind your back holding your tiny purse, you look around and see Mina walking over to you, a bright smile plastered on her face as giggles and grabs your hand, dragging you to the table where everyone (besides irritated Bakugou) resides. 

“Katsuki get your ass over here right now!” Mina shouts from across the club, catching Bakugou’s attention. She gives him a stern look, then smiles softly when he grumbles and pushes himself off his chair, slowly walking over there, drink in hand. He plops down next to Kirishima lazily before staring at the ground. “Good. Anyway,” she inhales, clearly excited. You stand there awkwardly, wondering why it has suddenly got so hot. Something in the air was different. You didn’t know what it was, but it was making you nervous. “Y/n, the boys,” she points at each boy, introducing them, “Todoroki, Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Bakugou.” You nod in acknowledgement, getting to know their faces to hopefully not forget later. One face caught your breath, though. Literally. Your breath hitched as you looked at him. Sero, you were pretty sure his name was. He was- beautiful. His raven black hair, his smile, his eyes, his everything- was gorgeous. 

What the hell was this?

You stand there, frozen, staring at his handsome face and body, practically drooling. You were interrupted by Mina yapping at them to shake your hand. Each one of them sat up straight and nodded to you, said how nice it was to meet you. Then you shook hands with Sero.

No. No way.

Right as you switch your hands for him, raising your left hand, he raises his. The red on his finger caught your eye, making you stop in your tracks. Again. He also comes to a halt, both your eyes wide in shock and surprise as you gaze at each other’s string.

This wasn’t real. You were the only one you knew in your entire life who had this. You had looked it up several times for a sliver of hope, but nothing showed. In fact, everything you had searched for came up the opposite. Because of the stories and the legends and the research, you were convinced it wasn’t true. You were convinced that it wasn’t going to happen to you. Convinced that you were going to live your life alone. Was this man really the one for you? Was this man really the one to share your soul with? You couldn't believe it. You just couldn’t.

“Ahem,” Mina purposely coughs, trying to dissipate the awkwardness everyone else has to endure as you and Sero share the weirdest and yet most thrilling moment you’ve had in your life. Your heart was beating so fast, you were nervous, but excited. You were surprised, but happy and sad, a little disappointed and mad, though you felt awakened at these new feelings. They felt stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before, and you could tell he could feel them, too. Mina coughs again, snatching your attention. She smiles and widens her eyes while pointing her head at the other men, who are tiredly awaiting your hand. Once you suddenly realize you’ve been focusing on Sero for the past 45 seconds, you breathe out an ‘oh’ and move on to Kirishima. 

You never stopped thinking about him, though. Throughout the entire night, after every shot you took, every song on the dance floor, Sero was still in your mind. And because of this, you took more shots. And you danced some more. You were taking a body shot off of Mina’s stomach when you notice eyes boring into yours. Swallowing the stinging alcohol you turn over to him, not finishing with the lime, almost stumbling. You want to tell him to stop looking at you, to mind his own business, but you can’t separate your words, slurring an incoherent sentence. 

“Oh? Baby girl needs some help? I can help you,” the strange man, teases, laughing as he grabs your waist, grazing the side of your torso up and down, trying to drag you to the back of the club. “Let me help you, honey.” He starts guiding you to the back, using his fingers to touch the soft skin on your shoulders, your forearms, making their way down to your hips, and finally up to-

“Hey, y/n, you okay?” The man gets interrupted by your hero, his voice giving you butterflies. “Sorry, man. She’s drunk. You really shouldn’t be messin’ with girls like this,” he shrugs before grabbing you by your waist and putting your arm around his shoulder, “or any girls, for that matter.” You lean on his shoulder, barely keeping up with the situation. You feel so light on your feet, but so heavy at the same time. He helps you to the tables you originally sat at before going a little more overboard than you would’ve liked. You moan, a little overwhelmed by the noise, but once he sets you in a comfortable spot on the bench, you lean your head back, satisfied with the cold air on your face. He quickly hands you his glass of water, placing the straw in your mouth and nodding his head, whispering to take a drink. You comply, sipping his water before he takes it out and puts the cup on the tabletop for a brief moment.

Dazed, you look around the room. Your vision is blurry, but you can clearly see Momo and Todoroki making out on the other side of the booth. At least she’s having fun. Meanwhile you get groped by an old man in a corner and probably won’t remember it the next day. Sero’s gone, you think. He was, but only a couple feet away from you. You turn your head from Momo on top of Todoroki’s lap, to Jirou leading Kaminari out of the building, then to Mina taking more shots with Kirishima, and Bakugou acting annoyed but is actually having fun. They all looked like they were having a great time. You look to your left once more and smile to yourself once you see him walking back over. He sits next to you and grabs the cup again, pushing it towards you to take a sip. And you do. 

The next half hour was you and him in the bathroom while you throw your guts up, the nasty alcohol leaving your stomach while he holds your hair up and rubs your back. You cough everything back up, regretting taking a single drink in the first place. You feel his hands smooth over your upper back, and his grip on your hair, tightening in a circle at the back of your head. You lift your head up, turning away in embarrassment.

He smiles in return, taking his hand off your back to grab something to wipe your mouth with. “Don’t worry, it’s not the first time I’ve done this. Come here,” he says softly, almost like a whisper. You turn your head towards him, still not looking at his face, but at his arm. His very attractive arms. He raises his left hand to wipe a cloth at your mouth, you catching the bright red string in sight. He notices this, and slows his motions. “You see it, right? My string.”

You only nod in response, looking away with a blush.

“I can see it, too. Yours, I mean.” You weren’t that surprised, considering what happened earlier that night when you first met him. The feeling was the same as it was before, but more intense. It was like sparks every time he touched you, like fireworks, like electricity. You could tell he felt it as well when he pulled back a little, hesitant to touch you. You knew he felt it when he pulled you away from that strange guy. Guess you were too drunk to notice.

Once he finishes up, he tells you he’s done then helps you up to get ready to leave. You were both tired of this place. Walking back out to the main room, the only people to be seen from Mina’s friend group was herself, Bakugou, and Kirishima. You could only guess where everyone else went. You two continue making your way down, asking if everyone else will be alright, or if they needed a ride. Mina responded that they’ll take a cab home, and that they’ll be okay. Thankfully Bakugou looked sober enough to understand what was going on.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Whatever. Fuckin’ leave already.”

Sero returns with a smile, silently thanking him as he leads you to the exit. The cool air felt wonderful against your face, the breeze making you feel a lot better. You groan as your head starts to pound. Sero leads you to his car, opening the door for you and helping you in, shutting the door. 

“Hey, what’s your address?”

You look up tiredly, ready to fall asleep right then and there. “Oh, uh, building 474 on 32nd.”

He only hums in response, checking his mirrors and backing out, heading for your apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, uh, thank you, Sero. I really appreciate it. I know this is not how you wanted to spend your night, even if you were sober.” You apologize, genuinely disappointed in yourself for letting yourself drink that hard.

“Don’t worry about it. It was fun watching you guys for most of the night, though,” he laughs.

“Oh I bet. Me and Mina got a little crazy.”

“A little?”

“Shush, I know,” you chuckle, trying not to embarrass yourself further. “Um, do you want my number? Or something? It’s just, your Mina’s friend,” We both have red cut strings, “and I want to make up for being such a slob at the party,” I want to figure out why I can see your string. He gladly agrees, putting his number in your phone. “Also,” you interrupt his movements, causing him to look up, “I remember that weird guy from earlier, where did he go? I didn’t see him for the rest of the night.”

He smiles cunningly, a smile that cocks the sides of your mouth up subconsciously. “He was getting on my nerves, so I kicked him out of the club.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “How?”

“I have my ways,” he says slyly, implying exactly what you’re thinking. You smile in understanding, thanking him for the help. 

You unlock your door and wave goodbye to him, sad that he had to leave, but grateful that he didn’t have to put up with you anymore. You lift your left hand in curiosity. Looking at it, you can see every thread on the piece of yarn. Every knot. Although you couldn’t take it off, it looked as if you could. It was weird, knowing the fact that everyone else’s string connected them to their soulmates, while your short piece of combined thread just drooped towards the ground. You never expected to find another person like you. Another person with a lost fate. Huh.

Part 2?? Let me know!!