#its sewn into his outfit

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest JJBA Outfit Bracket - Round 1 Match 7

[seraphdreams]

DON'T FORGET ME | BAJI KEISUKE.

⋆˙⟡♡ synopis. going to a concert with your best friend certainly has its perks. and so does hooking up with one of the bandmates.

⋆˙⟡♡ contains. bimbo!reader, rockstar!baji, unprotected sex, pet names, asphyxiation, creampie, semi-public sex, baji being sleazy + eighteen plus, mdni.

⋆˙⟡♡ word count. 3.3k.

“Thanks for coming to tonight’s show! Here’s one more song before we head out!”

You’d never been much of a fan of underground rock music, and quite frankly, you still weren’t. Something about obnoxiously loud vocals backed up with random electric guitar riffs just never settle right within your spirit. In fact, you almost forgot the real reason you stood just yards away from one of the biggest up and coming rock bands.

For one thing, the air was incredulously too suffocating. Bodies upon bodies virtually sewn together despite the spacious arena that held them, and the stage lights abnormally dim—Only a few saffron-hued luminescences casted upon the four males that appeared on the platform. You hardly saw the members in the far back on their guitars but of what you could make out, one had white hair decorated with a small black streak and tan skin that glimmered under the hot lights while the other, with a dark neck tattoo and bold eyes, drank from his half-full water bottle.

Mostly by the front and center of the stage, occupied the drummer and the person who was just speaking out from the mic mere seconds ago.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Your best friend and little sister of the main vocalist, Airi shouted. She was but the replication of her brother; large, emerald orbs dazzled with long dark brown eyelashes and heaps of wavy blonde hair that fell downward to her lower back. Her outfit choice of leather pants donned with a matching corset top left none of her figure to the imagination, an ode to her love of the genre.

Wherever Airi went, you followed, and when she proposed the idea of seeing her brother and his bandmates perform, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity—Not to mention the free front row tickets he offered.

It was clear Chifuyu heard his sister from the crowd, looking down at the two of you with an illustrious smile and gesturing a two finger salute. He inched back with the microphone taut in the grip of his left hand and sent off a cue to the rest of his bandmates. Music followed hastily after and he began to sing.

Throughout the whole show, your eyes remained locked onto the raven-haired drummer. You marveled at each and every ministration he made, how his demeanor seemed to switch with each passing song and how the sweat accumulated on his perfectly toned body. In your head, you could’ve cursed Airi for not telling you about him beforehand, he’s totally your type.

You bobbed your head along to the melody that flowed within your ears and it was evident to Airi that you were enjoying the show you formally told her you “probably wouldn’t enjoy.”

She leaned over to sonorously whisper-yell in your ear. “Having fun?” The expiration of her words practically fell to flat ears had you not seen her in your peripheral view. In all honesty, you were more-so focused on the aggression that sexy drummer displayed while he played. How did he not break the drumset? Surely, he was strong enough to do so.

“Huh?” You peered over at her, vacant eyes meeting her jaded ones. She gave you her signature allknowing look and turned back to face the band.

Soon enough, the music stopped and the venue was filled with its final cheers. The stage went ominously tenebrous and the rest of the audience filed out of the stadium, except for you and Airi.

“Wanna go chill backstage?” Airi proposed. She pointed her thumb in the direction of a hallway filled with staff. “Are we even allowed to?” you started. “The place is packed with security.”

Airi mirthfully elbowed you, that sly smile on her perfectly made-up face. “I’m family, they’ll understand.”

One thing you couldn’t knock about your best friend was her adventurousness. Truthfully, you were just as bad as her, yet a bit more wary of getting in trouble—Especially if the law was involved, but you liked fun. And this was definitely what you needed. “Show me the way then, Little Matsuno.”

And with that, the both of you had set foot on your way to heading backstage.

Which undoubtedly felt like the case until you found yourself stranded among other concertgoers and personnel that you lost sight of your friend. She couldn’t have gotten far so where the hell was she? You continued your search by calling her phone, walking in any direction to pick up the slightest amount of signal.

“Hey.”

The bellow of a deep voice stopped you dead in your tracks and you sheepishly looked up with silent hopes that you hadn’t gotten in it with the wrong person. Much to your dismay (Or maybe it was a blessing), the man you’d been eyeing all night stood tall above you. Long, wavy noir tresses sat at his wide shoulders to match his black tank top that was slightly rolled up at the hem, showing off his midriff and that delicious v-line. His toned and ink littered arms folded across his chest while an undistinguishable expression etched over his features.

“Uh, hi.” You blinked a few times in dubiousness at the circumstance you so gracefully landed yourself in. Proximal distance to his figure led you to tread backward a few steps until you were at a comfortable enough range to take him in fully.

He looked so fucking mean, thick eyebrows pursed together, and sharp, amber eyes narrowed upon your figure.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?”

You had half a mind to drop to your knees and show him what was on your mind, yet you remained to keep yourself where you stood, for his sake of course.

His eyes bored holes into your frame. Whereas you couldn’t keep up with his unwavering eye contact, he managed to take note of every little quirk about you. “Um.. I was looking for my friend.” Your throat felt dry as you began to speak. “She said I could come backstage—Her name’s Airi Matsuno, Chifuyu’s sister.” The words got quieter as you spewed them out. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves or the intimidation, he’s so much taller up close.

“Eh? Fuyu’s lil’ sis?” He looked behind him to one of his bandmates, that same one as before with the blond streaks and neck tattoo. It seemed as though every member had genes blessed by the deities up above. “Tora, does Fuyu have a sister?”

The man you come to realize as “Tora” affirms your claim, adding that he had just seen Airi and Chifuyu leave the venue.

“Damn it, Ai.” You thought to yourself as if she’d actually given one day to not be herself.

The drummer turns back to look at you, this time unfolding his arms and standing somewhat widely. His thick dark brows remained quirked in a perplexed manner. He leans down to meet your gaze, hands hidden in his pockets as he concludes. “Some friend you got there. She left ya all alone.”

“She does that sometimes.” You reply.

He straightened up back to his full height, his expression softening, and a slight crack of a smile on his lips. “Guess i’ll keep ya company ‘til she comes back.”

Any other day, your humility would’ve been disregarded to the back of your mind. In all actuality, you were discourteous and loved attention, yet the feeling of a celebrity seemingly stooping low enough for some lost, 20-something year old groupie in disguise, kept your modesty in perfect condition.

“Oh, you don’t have to-“

Your words were quickly cut off by his cold demeanor as he opened one of the doors in the narrow hallway beside him. “But I wanna. /Ven aqui/.“ Eyes looked into yours like daggers and you couldn’t quite tell if he were vexed at your facade or if he were just blessed with bedroom eyes.

You followed him into what seemed to be his greenroom. It’s complete with a set of drums on one side near the corner and a half opened window, and a leather couch in the middle, not to mention the rack of clothes on the other edge.

“Didn’t catch your name, though. You are?” He questioned, sitting at the drumset in front of you. You made yourself comfortable on the plush couch, pulling the hem of your pink bodycon down in hopes you don’t reveal too much.

“I’m Y/N. And you are?”

He raises an eyebrow then follows it with a hearty laugh. “You came to my show ‘nd ya don’t even know my name?” You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but he was right. You didn’t know any of the members aside from the obvious, Chifuyu.

“My friend dragged me here, I just go wherever she goes.” You retort, a cordial grin on your face. He adjusts his sitting position and spreads his legs slightly.

It’s coming. The urge to suck dick.

“Yeah? Name’s Baji. You can call me Keisuke though.”

He pulled the pair of drumsticks from his back pocket and quietly tapped away. “You’re cute.” Dexterously, he twirled one of the sticks between his fingers where you noticed his black lacquered nails paired with the skull-esque designs of the rings that adorned said digits. “You like a college student or something?” Heat spread across your cheeks at the comment. A band member calling you cute was not something you thought you’d experience tonight, but there’s lots you haven’t experienced yet.

“Mhm. It’s a lot though, I'm thinking of dropping out.” More calm your voice was, and he picked up on your energy, sending a stern glance your way.

“Nah, don’t do that.” The melodic tapping from the drumsticks halt. “Ya seem like a smart girl, don’t be like me.”

Curiosity overtakes you, causing you to press forward. “And what are you like, Keisuke?” His name tasted saccharine falling off your tongue and filling your ears with the sweetest music. Keisuke, Keisuke, Keisuke.

“Dropped out at 14, ran around with a few gangs, and now ‘m doing music.” His words register in his mind before he continues. “But ‘m makin’ good money now, maybe you should live like me a little.”

A giggle resonated within the room and he felt his heart swell at the cute laughter. He wasn’t quite sure what urged your joy but he returned it with a smile of his own. You truly do have the prettiest face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ya know..” His words slipped off his tongue like honey and in turn you gave him the most of your attention, curious eyes locked on his dismal bronze ones. “I got this beat I can’t get out my head. Can I get your opinion?” His expression was glazed over in calculation with a slight pat to his thigh that you seemingly picked up. Instinctively, your body moved on its own and replied to his silent call. As you nestled into his lap, you only hoped that this had been what he was asking for. “Mhm.” Your response was curt and barely escaped under the pressure of your breath.

Your back was pressed against his chest and your core was slotted over his thigh, a relatively intimate position despite the need for cordial relations. He started up on the drums, stirring up the common one-two, one-two beat that emphasized its focus on the round bass drum that sat at the bottom of the set. It was as if with each press to the drum pedal the muscle of his thigh dangerously tensed beneath your heat, eliciting surges of delirium and pleasure straight to the very source. It’s clear he knew what he was doing from the onsight of your glossy lips parting and the faintest decibel of a gasp leaving your lips.

“Y’like it?” Deep voice ghosted over your ear as he leaned in precariously close. “Y’sure it won’t sound better like this?”

The beat he originally created morphed into one of a sonorous, heavier tone. Your body vaguely rocked over his, your tits bouncing from the nefarious rising and falling of his leg in the sweetest, yet most sinister tandem with his flexing thighs.

And all restraint vanished from within you as you diligently rutted your hips. You felt embarrassed. Like a needy nuisance needed to be taken care of, yet again, your humility sat idly by and pride dwindled from your very being.

“That—That sounds nice.” Your reply was breathy and if you thought enough of this through, your little plan of passing your insatiability off as adjusting your position would’ve worked on him. But it didn’t.

The sultry, damp sensation he felt on his blackened denim pants told him otherwise. Baji chuckled to no one in particular, the sharp canines on display while he smirked mirthfully to himself. He’s had his fair share of girls practically throwing themselves at him, and still, you were the most fun to play with.

The flexing and relaxing of his muscles didn’t let up, as with your ruthless humping. You held tightly to his knees with the pressure only gradually increasing when you felt yourself crumbling in his hold.

On the verge of your awaiting orgasm, Baji’s lips press against the shell of your studded ear.

“I saw you starin’ in the crowd tonight—Couldn’t keep my eyes off that tiny lil’ dress you’re wearing.” He moved one hand from the drumset to snake over the front of your garment, calloused hands kneading at your soft and pert breasts. The movement was one of full dexterity. Your nipples ached as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

“Knew you weren’t wearin’ a bra.” his lips against your ear trailed down to your neck which caused the helplessly rutting of your core over his thigh, strikingly close to orgasm. You had managed to keep your whimpers low but due to proximity, you left nothing to be unheard. A harsh tug of your nipples pulled you from the hazed out state you were entranced in.

“Gotta tell Tora I won our little bet.”

False lashes fluttered with every move the both of you made. Your voice was soft as you responded, “You’re just so fucking fine, Couldn’t help myself.”

He was used to the attention. He’s a 6’0 rockstar with a checkered past — Any girl would fall for that cliche shtick, yet something within him wanted to toy with your naivety. Would you really believe anything he said?

“I don’t get much attention from fans, but you? You’re special.”

It was that moment that sent you over the edge, a lewd cry followed by your body convulsing, pretty face screwed up in pleasure, letting Baji know your release had hit you, and fucking hard at that.

“Oh ho? That did it for ya, huh?” He watched in awe at the sopping mess of his pants while allowing you to ride out your high completely before those same strong hands bunched your dress up at the hip.

You rested against his back for a while as stray pants waned themselves from your lips.

“Ya poor thing, I ain’t even get to finish my drummin.’” his hands left your tits as he rasped out the words and settled on turning you around to face him on his lap. “Sorry..” you meekly responded. An airy chuckle sounded itself from him as he whips out his throbbing hard length.

It should be illegal to be as thick as a fucking Coke can, yet there he was — The tip flushed a deep mauve, and pretty pearlescent beads of precum streaming down his cock and over the few veins that seemed to run along the shaft. The prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, and you stared in awe until the deep clearing of his throat caught your attention.

Pumping it shallowly, he pushed those cute fucking pink lace panties to the side, revealing your glistening and sticky folds to him. He prodded the tip at your hole, bullying your core that left you aching for his touch.

“Ride it for me, muñequita.”

With no hesitation, you sank yourself down onto his cock, carefully taking him in.

“Fuck—” The low whimper is sounded from you as you began to bounce yourself on his lap. He felt impossible to take and with your hands rested over his shoulders paired with his arms at your waist, slowly pushing you further down, you didn’t think you could take it. “That’s it, baby. Ride it like it’s yours.” He cooed, letting his head fall back as you got him off.

You bit at your plush bottom lip to elicit any moans from flying which reigned ineffective when you picked up pace and rolled your hips, allowing his cock to drag against that spongey spot within your walls that had your resolve weakening.

Obscenities and the reverberation of skin on skin bounced against the walls of his green room. You were tighter than any girl he’d ever been in and much cuter too.

Once you were able to fall into a comfortable rhythm of bouncing on his cock he hastily began to work toward his own release having grown tired of your saunterous riding.

He lifted you up off his length and turned you around so that you were bent over his drumset. “I know you were trying your best,” he followed up his words with a quick slap to your ass before aligning his cock with your slit once more, “But i’m gonna need better than that.”

Baji noticed the way you faltered once he built up his own pace, with more fervor than the previous. You almost fell forward with the trajectory of the thrusts and to his chagrin, your moans amplified.

“D-Deep! ‘S so deep!” You cried wantonly. You felt your guts get turned inside out with his vigor. A scoff was heard from him in response, the inked up hands that rested at your hips now filing up your body and hooking at your elbows, holding you back flush against him as he continued to hit harder within your walls.

You felt unsteady when his right hand trailed up to your neck and gripped at your jaw before his index and middle finger slipped past your lips into your mouth. The metal of the rings tasted metallic and felt cold against your tongue, those being the least of your concerns when you felt your high from previously coil right up within you once more.

Without warning, you were hit with your release that left you limp in his hold, his fingers retracting from your mouth and messily running down your fat bottom lip where he also smeared a mix of saliva and cherry oil gloss down your chin.

Just momentarily from the sight of how pretty you looked, convulsing and crumbling because of his doing, he followed suit and filled your insides in thick, hot spurts of his cum, drops dripping down your thigh when he continued to rut inside you, emptying himself of his need.

It took you both a while to settle down, his lips hungrily taking in your neck down to your shoulder.

“Was that deep enough for ya?” He rasped and haziness filled your system when you pant to respond. “I-“

Just before you could respond, there’s a knock at the door and a familiar voice accompanied.

“Y/N! You in here? I’m ready to leave!”

It’s Airi, loud and clear after her awaited reappearance.

“Shit.” Baji cursed under his breath. He pulled you off of him and bent you over slightly, fetching a thick black marker from the table beside him and holding the cap between his teeth.

The uncomfortable sensation of the felt tip on your ass trailing down to your thigh lasted mere seconds as you tried to make out the shapes you couldn’t see. “Here’s my number. Don’t forget me.”

He stood you up properly and fixed your skirt, sending you off with a pat to your ass.

“I’ll see you again, Keisuke?”

“Damn right you will.”

tags - @meena-in-a-nutshell @imkumichan @messofavs @aotdump @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @saffronity @aasouthteranoswife @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @anahryal @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @bunnyyamor @koucaine @bluerskiees @ready2readagain @sarnghoe

+ a great big thanks to my moot ! @lovelysho thank you so much for beta reading my love !

– all rights reserved © seraphdreams 2023. do not repost, change, copy, republish, read, translate, or recommend my work on tumblr or any other platforms without prior permission. feedback is widely appreciated!

[angellayercake]

RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT

Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?

ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹

why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???

Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...

YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right

BUT....

The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.

"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."

"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.

"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"

"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.

"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.

"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?

"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"

"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.

"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.

"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.

"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.

"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.

"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.

"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.

"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.

"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."

"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.

[valkyriexo]

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 2 - Favors

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ; Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNI

ᑉ³EPISODE WARNINGS;  Death, Suggestive MDNI, Cursing

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 4.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE ;Surprise! Episode 2.. have you ruled some people out yet?

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me.

Master Post | Teaser |

The morning sun casts a warm glow over the bustling streets as you and Chan make your way through the vibrant shopping district. Surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up within you.

As you stroll arm in arm with Chan, laughter spills from your lips, the carefree atmosphere infectious as you revel in each other's company. The windows of the shops lining the street display an array of enticing goods, each one tempting you with its allure.

Entering a boutique, you're greeted by a wave of delightful scents and the soft melody of music playing in the background. You browse through racks of clothing, giggling and flirting as you playfully model various outfits for each other.

"What about this?" he asks, trying to contain his smile. You can't help but burst into laughter at Chan's suggestion, his playful grin infectious as he holds up the most outrageous garment he could find.

"This could work perfectly for the family dinner."

"Oh, absolutely," you reply with a playful grin, "I'm sure my parents would love to see you show up in that."

"You know what? I think there's a matching one for you," he says with a sly grin, disappearing into the racks of clothing.

Moments later, Chan emerges from the racks of clothing with a triumphant grin, holding up what can only be described as a fashion disaster. The dress in question is a riot of colors, with clashing patterns and textures that seem to defy all sense of style. But what truly sets it apart are the dozens of teddy bears, each one seemingly hand-sewn onto the fabric with reckless abandon.

"Voila!" he exclaims, unable to contain his laughter at the sight of the garment.

"Chan, what on earth is that?" you manage to choke out between giggles.

Chan's eyes widen dramatically, a look of mock horror crossing his face. "What? You don't like it?" he exclaims, his voice filled with playful disbelief. "To think, I put so much effort into finding the perfect ensemble, only to have my impeccable taste called into question."

You play along with his theatrics, pretending to be remorseful. "Oh, forgive me, fashion guru," you say with a grin, reaching out to pat his arm consolingly. "But that thing looks like it was designed by a kindergartener on a sugar rush."

Chan chuckles, unable to contain his amusement any longer. "Okay, maybe not the best choice," he admits, his laughter blending with yours as you share a lighthearted moment amidst the racks of clothing.

"Ooh, what do you think of this one?" you ask, grabbing a dress that caught your eye. As you hold the dress in front of you, its allure is undeniable. The flowy skirt cascades from your hands, swaying gently with each movement, while the corset top adds a touch of allure and sophistication to the ensemble.

The corset is expertly tailored. Its intricate lace-up design adds a hint of drama and elegance, drawing the eye to the sculpted lines of the bodice.

Chan's eyes light up as he gazes at you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Absolutely stunning," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. 

"The dress or me?" you say.

Chan's grin widens as he steps closer, his gaze lingering on you with unabashed appreciation. "Well, the dress is lovely, But you? You're dangerous"

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Dangerous, huh?" you echo, feigning innocence as you tilt your head, "And why's that?"

Chan's grin widens. "Well, it's simple," he says, his voice a smooth, seductive murmur, "because you make heads turn so hard they might break their necks." The words hang in the air, thick with implication, as he leans in, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours.. "You make it impossible to look away, sweetheart."

Before you can respond, he closes the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It's a moment of sweet surrender, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine as you melt into the embrace.

When he finally pulls away, a knowing smile plays at the corners of his lips, his eyes alight with affection. "See what I mean?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Absolutely dangerous."

You can't help but laugh at his corny yet utterly charming response, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at his words. "Smooth talker," you tease, nudging him playfully

"Smooth talker? Nah, I prefer to think of myself as a master of compliments," he quips. "But hey, if the shoe fits..."

As you glance past Chan, your laughter fades as something catches your eye through the boutique window. Your gaze falls on a figure standing farther away, amidst the bustling crowd of people passing by. Despite the distance, their eyes seem to lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You freeze for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to make out their features through the crowd. You realize that their features are obscured not just by the throng of people, but also by an oversized hood and mask that conceals most of their face, leaving only a vague silhouette in your line of sight.

With a surge of determination, you shove the dress into Chan's hands, your urgency evident in the abruptness of your movements. "Hold this," you instruct him quickly, your voice trembling.

Before Chan can react, you turn on your heel and bolt out of the boutique, your heart pounding in your chest. Pushing through the wave of shoppers, you make your way towards them, only to find that they have vanished into the crowd, leaving behind nothing but an eerie sense of déjà vu.

"Where are you going?" Chan's voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone laced with concern as he noticed your sudden change in direction. Frustration mounts as you search fruitlessly for any sign of the stranger, your senses on high alert. But no matter how hard you looked, they were gone.

"I saw... something," you reply cryptically, your focus solely on tracking down the shadowy figure that had captured your attention.

Chan's hand finds yours, his touch grounding you in the midst of your swirling thoughts. "Saw what?" he questions, his tone gentle yet insistent.

"I-....Nothing....Nevermind," you murmur, shaking your head slightly as you try to dismiss the unsettling encounter. Despite Chan's comforting presence, the memory of the mysterious figure lingers in the back of your mind

"Are you sure?" Chan asks, his concern evident in his voice. "We can stay if you want, but if you're feeling unwell, maybe we should head home."

You consider his suggestion, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of leaving the bustling street behind. "Yeah, let's go home," you agree, a small smile playing on your lips. "And hey, how about we cook lunch together? It could be fun."

Chan's eyes light up at the suggestion, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I like the sound of that," he says, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Let's get going then." With his hand in yours, you allow him to lead you away from the busy street.

Once home, you kick off your shoes and settle into the cozy ambiance of your shared space. Chan wastes no time in heading to the kitchen, his enthusiasm for cooking evident as he gathers ingredients and starts preparing lunch.

As you watch him move around the kitchen with practiced ease, you find your thoughts drifting, a slight fog settling over your mind. You know you should be helping him, but the weight of your thoughts is making it difficult to focus. Your mind is a mix of thoughts, uncertainties, and unresolved questions.

"Hey, could you help me out with this?" Chan's voice breaks through your reverie, snapping you back to the present.

You blink, realizing you've been lost in your own thoughts for a few minutes. "Sorry, what was that?" you ask, your voice slightly distant.

Chan gives you a concerned look. "I asked if you could cut this cucumber for me," he repeats, holding out the vegetable and a knife.

You take them from him, trying to shake off the fog that clouds your mind. "Right, sorry," you mumble, feeling guilty for not being more present.

As you slice through the cucumber, your mind still feels preoccupied. Chan's voice brings you back once again.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone gentle as he looks at you.

You meet his gaze, offering him a weak smile. "Yeah, just lost in thought," you reply, though you know it's more than that.

In response, Chan sets down the ingredients he's working with and moves closer to you. There's a determined yet gentle look in his eyes as he takes your hand, pulling you away from the cutting board and towards him.

Without a word, he guides you to sit on the edge of the countertop opposite him. His touch is comforting as he stands between your legs, his hands resting on your waist.

"You seem really on edge," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Is there something specific that's bothering you?"

You hesitate. "I don't know," you murmur, not really wanting to reveal much.

"You don't know, or you don't want to talk about it?" Chan's voice is gentle but probing, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow.

"I don't know," you confess. "I'm just feeling.....weird."

Chan's lips brush against your neck in a tender gesture, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"Feeling weird huh....," he murmurs against your skin, his warm breath sending a wave of tingles through you. You find yourself nodding, unable to form coherent thoughts as his lips continue their mesmerizing dance along your skin. The tension that had gripped your shoulders begins to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of warmth and arousal.

"Does this help?" his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. His hands wander back down to your waist, tugging you closer. You feel the heat from his body even through the layers of clothing, his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach. You nod again, feeling your face grow hot as your body reacts to his touch. "You always help," you reply softly, melting into his comforting touch as his lips trail along the sensitive skin of your neck. 

He looks up, meeting your gaze with gratitude and affection. Leaning in, you close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. The soft, sweet press of his lips is everything you've dreamed of and more.

He moans softly as your tongue darts out to tease at the seam of his lips, eagerly granting you access. You can taste the faint traces of peppermint on his tongue as it slips into your mouth, tangling with yours in a heated dance.

You sigh happily, losing yourself in the kiss as the world seems to fall away around you.

He slides a hand up the back of your neck, gripping your hair and using it to pull you closer to him. His mouth moves over yours, hot and hungry.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he urges, his voice husky with desire.

"It's...it's nothing," you breathe, gasping slightly as his hand tightens in your hair. " I was just... just thinking.." you stutter as he trails a line of hot kisses along your jaw.

"Mmmhmm" he purrs, his breath warm against your skin.

His hands slide down back down your sides, caressing your hips and then moving further south to cup your ass. He squeezes firmly, making you gasp in surprise, and then grinds his hips against you, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through your body.

"Chan," you moan, arching your back and pressing closer to him. You want more. Need more.

"Hmmm?" he hums against your lips, kissing you again.

"You're distracting me."

He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Maybe that's the point," he murmurs, his hand moving to your front to palm your breast through your shirt. You whimper softly as he continues to explore your body with his mouth and hands, teasing you mercilessly until you can’t take it anymore.

A faint sound interrupts the peace of the moment. It's barely noticeable at first, like a distant melody weaving its way into the room.

Chan lifts his head slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Did you say something?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Chan, want you..” You beg.

He smirks against your lips and pulls away slightly, looking down at you with dark eyes. “What do you want?” he asks, voice low and husky.

“Tell me what you want, baby.... I need to know.” You swallow thickly, your face heating up at the way he stares at you with lust in his eyes.

He growls low in his throat and leans back down to kiss you again, more forcefully this time. His tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth, exploring every inch of it. The taste of him fills your senses and makes your head spin.

"You."

His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, caressing your skin. You can't help but arch your back, pressing closer to him.

"Please..." you beg.

He trails kisses down the column of your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a path of fire in their wake. He bites down on the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and you gasp in pleasure.

His fingers deftly unbutton your shirt and push it aside, revealing the black lace bra underneath.

The faint sound interrupts the space once more, still barely noticeable.

Chan lifts his head again slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Did you hear that?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You shake your head, the sensation of his touch still lingering on your skin, your attention fully focused on him.

He frowns and turns his attention back to your exposed chest, placing kisses in the valley in your chest. He lets out a contented sigh and moves lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your stomach.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your skin. " but i know something that taste so much sweeter."

Your breath catches in your throat as his lips brush against your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin there.

He pulls back and looks up at you, his dark eyes burning with desire.

"You want me, baby?"he asks, his voice rough with need. You nod wordlessly, unable to speak. He smirks and places another soft kiss against your skin, making your whole body shudder. "Say it."

"Y-yes."

"Say my name," he commands, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs.

"Chan."

"Again."

"Chan."

"Louder."

"Chan!"

"Mmmm."

His tongue darts out to lick a stripe along the seam of your panties, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You can feel his hot breath on your core, teasing you through the thin material. You moan, arching up against him, and his hands move lower, slipping into your panties. His fingers brush over your folds, and he lets out a low growl as he feels how wet you are.

"So wet for me already, babygirl?" he murmurs, his lips pressed against your ear.

"Yes," you breathe, squirming under his touch. "I need you, Channie."

The sound persists, growing slightly louder this time, and you both become aware of a subtle vibration beneath you. Gradually, realization dawns as you exchange a puzzled glance.

Chan runs his other hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in frustration. "Okay," he muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and determination. "I know I'm not going crazy."

With a sudden jolt of recognition, you shift and reach into your pocket and retrieve your phone.

You glance at the screen, irritation flaring up as the same unfamiliar number flashes over and over again. Chan shoots you a pointed look, his annoyance palpable.

"Who is it?" he mutters, his eyes narrowing.

"It's some number ," you reply, your frustration mirroring his. "They keep calling me, and I don't know who it is."

With a sigh, you decline the call and return the phone to your pocket.

"Well, whoever it is, they can wait," he growls, leaning in to continue his previous actions.

The phone vibrates once again, the display illuminating.

You both let out an exasperated groan as the ringing persists.

"This is ridiculous," he huffs, his lips curled into a frown. "Why won't they just leave a message or something?"

The phone continues to ring, its shrill sound cutting through the silence of the room. You sit up, reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace, and reach for your phone again. "Fine, I'll answer it," you grumble, pressing the answer button with more force than necessary.

"Must be important if they're calling this many times," he remarks under his breath. You offered a strained smile in response before finally speaking into the phone, trying to keep your frustration in check as you greeted the unknown caller.

"Hello?" you say, trying to ignore Chan's comment.

"Hello, Y/N."

"Yes? Who is this? How do you know my name?" Your voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and apprehension, the unexpected familiarity sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but there's been a fire at Y/F/N's house," the voice continued, its words carrying a weight that seemed to crush the very air around you. "They... they didn't make it out in time. I'm so sorry."

The world seemed to come to a screeching halt as the full impact of those words registered in your mind. Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach, a heavy weight settling over you like a suffocating blanket.

Shock immobilizes you, rendering you momentarily speechless as your mind struggles to process the news. Disbelief clouds your thoughts, and for a fleeting moment, you entertain the hope that this must be some cruel prank or a terrible misunderstanding. But the solemnity in the caller's voice leaves no room for doubt, and the reality of the situation hits you with relentless force.

"What?" The word escapes your lips in a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. It feels as though the ground beneath you has shifted.

"Your friend has passed away," the voice repeats, its tone filled with sympathy.

Your breaths come in shallow gasps as you struggle to comprehend the news, each inhalation feeling like a struggle against an invisible weight pressing down upon your chest. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment, but you fight to hold them back, afraid of what might happen if you allow yourself to surrender to the overwhelming sense of grief. Your hands tremble as you clutch the phone tightly, the cold metal offering little solace in the face of such devastating news.

Chan's irritation dissipates instantly as he sees the color drain from your face. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with worry.

You struggle to find the words, your mind reeling from the devastating news. "It's... it's ," you manage to choke out, tears streaming down your cheeks. "She didn't make it... there was a fire..."

As you relay the news, Chan's expression shifts from concern to horror as your words sink in. His features contort with disbelief, mirroring the shock and anguish etched across your own face. For a moment, neither of you can find the words to articulate the overwhelming grief that threatens to consume you both.

All around you, the morning light seems to dim, casting a pall of darkness over the room as you come to terms with the harsh reality of mortality. The laughter and playful banter of moments ago fade into the background, replaced by the deafening silence of grief.

"I never got to say goodbye," you confess. Chan's arms wrap around you in a comforting embrace, holding you close, as if trying to shield you from the pain that threatens to overwhelm you. You bury your face in his chest, his heartbeat echoing in your ears.

The phone slips from your grasp, forgotten amidst the grief. Time loses all meaning as you surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotions, the world around you fading into insignificance as you grapple with the void left behind by your friend's passing.

In an attempt to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos, you seek refuge in the familiar routine of your self-care, the warm shower offering a brief respite from the relentless pain. But even as the water cascades over you, washing away the physical traces of sorrow, the weight of grief remains heavy upon your shoulders, a reminder of the gaping hole in your heart.

When you emerge, you are greeted by the sight of Minho, Seungmin, Felix, and Han, chatting quietly with Chan as they enjoy the lunch he had prepared.

Your heart sinks at the sight of them, a mix of surprise and apprehension washing over you. You had completely forgotten that they were supposed to come over today, and the thought of facing them in your current state fills you with dread.

Before you can retreat back into the safety of your room, Felix spots you, his gaze locking onto yours with a mix of concern and understanding. There's no escaping now. You feel a lump form in your throat as you reluctantly step into the room, their eyes following your every move.

Chan's expression softens as he catches sight of you, concern etched into his features. "Hey, there you are," he says gently, his voice a welcome anchor in the storm of emotions raging within you.

You offer a weak smile in response, attempting to mask your emotions. The weight of their collective gaze feels suffocating, and you find it difficult to meet their eyes.

Minho offers a sympathetic smile as you approach, his eyes reflecting the shared sorrow. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine compassion.

Your throat tightens with emotion at his words, grateful for his heartfelt condolences. "Thank you," you manage to croak, each syllable heavy with the weight of your grief. You step closer to them, the fragrant scent of the flowers filling the air around you. "This means a lot."

Seungmin nods in agreement. "We're here for you," he assures you earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity and support.

You offer Seungmin a grateful nod, feeling a lump form in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper, choked with emotion.

With a final round of supportive embraces and reassuring words, Minho, Seungmin, Felix, and Han bid their farewells, their departure leaving an emptiness in the room. As the door closes behind them, the silence settles in around you, heavy with the weight of your grief.

Your eyes catch sight of a single black rose with a white ribbon tied around it, placed delicately on the counter, near the gift basket. The ribbon, elegantly tied around the stem in a neat bow, adds an air of mourning to the scene, evoking memories of funeral bouquets and memorial services. It's presence feels out of place in the bright warmth of your home, casting a shadow of unease over the otherwise cheerful atmosphere.

Beside the rose, the torn page from a diary lies in disarray, its edges jagged and uneven, hinting at a hurried and frantic tearing. As you approach, the faint scent of ink lingers in the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of the rose.

"What... what is this?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach out to examine the mysterious objects. Your fingers tremble slightly as you pick up the torn page, the words written upon it sending a chill down your spine.

 You quietly read the note out aloud, the words sinking in with a weight that threatens to crush your spirit.

It's the same signature as the letter you received the night before, the one that filled you with a sense of foreboding.

This wasn't just a casual letter. It was intentional. Someone out there is targeting you, and you can't help but feel a creeping sense of unease at the thought of what might happen next.

Your mind races with questions, each one more terrifying than the last. Was "Her" referring to your friend? Did someone harm her? The possibility sends a wave of panic coursing through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to make sense of the cryptic message.

Then the realization sinks in:

How did it get in the house?

You frantically look around for Adam, your bodyguard, realizing he should have been by your side. Panic sets in as you rush to the door, throwing it open to find him outside. Confusion and fear intertwine as you demand an explanation.

"Adam, what are you doing out here?" you ask, your voice trembling with urgency. "You were supposed to be inside with me. Why are you here?"

Adam's expression is grave as he meets your gaze, a shadow of concern flickering across his features. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he says, his tone tinged with regret. "I sensed something off and decided to check the perimeter. Is everything okay?"

You furrow your brow, a mixture of frustration and concern evident in your voice as you question him. "How did this get inside?" you say waving the note and flower in your hand.

Adam's gaze follows the items, his expression darkening as he takes them from you, examining them closely. He hesitates for a moment, looking puzzled before responding, "I'm not sure," he admits, his voice tight with worry. "I didn't see anything, ma'am."

Your irritation grows. "Isn't it your job to do just that?" you say sharply, the edge in your voice reflecting your annoyance at the situation.

Adam, visibly flustered, stammers out . "I apologize, ma'am," He said bowing. "I'll check with the other guards on duty as well as Stacy, who was here this morning"

"Who's Stacy?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar name.

As if on cue, Aera enters through the front entrance, her presence graceful as she bows respectfully. "That would be me, ma'am," she says, introducing herself with a polite smile. "It's my English name. Most people call me Stacy. Though I must admit, I prefer Aera."

You nod in acknowledgment, still processing the unexpected revelation.

You address your bodyguard with a firm tone, your frustration evident. "Under no circumstances are you to allow anything or anyone into my home without my explicit permission. Is that clear?"

He nods in understanding, chastened by your stern reprimand. "Yes, ma'am," he responds.

You turn your gaze towards Aera, a firm expression etched upon your features. "And why, may I ask, are you here?" you inquire, your tone tinged with a hint of sternness.

Aera's eyes widen slightly, and she bows apologetically. "I... I'm sorry for the intrusion," she stammers, her voice soft with regret. "I wanted to offer my condolences, but I realize now that I've interrupted."

Aera retrieves a bouquet of flowers from behind her back, her movements hesitant as she extends it towards you with a slight bow,her eyes downcast with humility.

You nod, acknowledging her apology, taking the bouquet, delicately tied together with a pristine white ribbon, from her hands. "Thank you, Aera," you say, your voice softening slightly. "But next time, please check with me before coming over."

Aera bows again, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Of course, I'm sorry," she says, her tone contrite. "I'll make sure to do that in the future."

As she turns to leave, Chan steps forward, concern etching his features as he approaches you, his touch gentle as he places a comforting hand on your back. Aera's gaze lingers on him for a moment, a flicker of curiosity dancing in her eyes before she quickly averts her gaze and bows once more.

"Thank you. You may go home now," you say, dismissing her with a nod. Aera bows again, her expression a mix of regret and understanding, before quietly leaving.

Turning to Adam, you gesture for him to follow suit. "You too," you say, your voice firm but not unkind. Adam bows respectfully before leaving, leaving you alone with Chan and the weight of the day's events settling upon your shoulders.

Chan notices the tension in your posture, his concern evident as he approaches you with a gentle touch.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You offer him a reassuring smile, though it feels strained. "Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, though the words ring hollow even to your own ears.

Chan's gaze softens as he takes in your troubled expression. "You don't have to pretend, you know," he says softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush away a stray lock of hair from your face. "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

Chan notices your hesitation and gently prompts, "You've been on edge all day. Do you want to talk? I want to help."

As you lean into Chan's comforting embrace, the tension in your shoulders begins to ease, but the sense of unease still lingers at the edge of your consciousness. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to voice your concerns.

"I... I feel like someone's watching me," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan's brow furrows with concern. "Watching you? Why didn't you tell me before?" he asks gently, his concern evident in his tone.

You hesitate, searching for an explanation. "I'm not actually sure," you admit, feeling a pang of guilt for keeping it from him.

"Well, do you think it's your mind playing tricks on you?" Chan suggests, trying to offer a rational explanation. "Now that you've won Artist of the Year, you probably just feel like more attention is on you."

"Yeah, you're right," you concede, the weight of his words resonating with you. Perhaps it was just your imagination running wild in the aftermath of your recent success.

"Besides," he adds, "you have a bodyguard. He's good at his job. You're safe with him around."

You nod, appreciating his attempt to ease your worries. "Yeah, you're right," you agree, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his words. 

"And you also have me," he adds

Chan's concern is evident in the softness of his gaze as he gently suggests, "How about a massage?"

His caring tone and thoughtful suggestion warm your heart, and you can't help but smile at his consideration. "That sounds wonderful," you reply. "But I think I just want to rest," you admit, exhaustion tugging at your limbs as the events of the day catch up with you.

Chan's lips curve into a reassuring smile as he squeezes your hand gently. "Okay." He says.

With a heavy heart, you decide against sharing the note with Chan. You don't want to burden anyone of your fears, and the thought of putting him in harm's way fills you with dread.

What if whoever sent this comes after him next?

For now, you keep the note to yourself, tucked away where no one else can find it. It's a burden you'll bear alone, at least until you can figure out who's behind this and why they're doing it.

But no matter how hard you try, the sense of foreboding lingers, a constant reminder that danger may be closer than you think.

ઇଓ Ep.3 - Knock, Knock

ઇଓTaglist in the comments! If you want to be removed from the taglist send me a dm!

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[watatsumiis]

Reader's Stuffed Toy

Just a silly little set of drabbles about different characters finding out that the reader has a plushie in their likeness :D

Gender neutral reader, platonic fluff, very slight angst in Foul Legacy's part

Characters: Ayato, Foul Legacy, Gorou, Tighnari, Rex Lapis (yes the dragon), Xiao

Ayato is insufferably smug about it from the moment he realises. He’ll waste no time in teasing you about it and commenting on the plush, though there’s a dark flicker of something in his eyes whenever he catches you contently snuggled up to it, or tucking it carefully into your bag for a long trip. It may take some reassurance that no, this little bundle of fluff isn’t as good as the real thing, until he warms to the idea, and eventually you may find little packages laid out addressed only to “The Junior Yashiro Commissioner.” that, when opened, reveal itty bitty clothes, hand-sewn by Thoma with the utmost care to match Ayato’s own day-to-day outfits. He also may incorporate the toy into his own routine, occasionally stealing it from you so that it can ‘complete its paperwork for the day’. He denies being in any way attached to the toy, but it’s hard to take his claims seriously when he’s got it sitting on his desk in a little chair belonging to Ayaka’s dolls, with a teeny tiny brush and paper in hand.

Though Foul Legacy doesn't entirely get it, he understands that the stuffed toy is of great importance to you. He holds it so delicately, like it's made of glass, so his claws won't shred it. He'll mimic the way you treat it, patting it on the head and chirping curiously at it, as if it's a living creature. It takes him a while to realise how much the toy actually resembles him - there’s a level of disconnect between him and his physical form, but the moment he finds out, he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He wonders why you’d want a plush of (what he perceives to be) such a monster, but it seems to bring you a great deal of comfort, so he lets it slide, making sure to always be extra careful when he’s tucking it in next to you while you sleep. He finds a whisper of familiarity and comfort in the way you treat the plush that makes him think back to days long past in a small, seaside village, supplying his little siblings with various toys and watching them play.

Gorou is utterly embarrassed - his immediate response is to ask if the Guuji Yae put you up to this. He cannot fathom why you’d be carrying around other than it being some sort of ploy to mess with him. He encourages you to put it away, seemingly worried about any of the other soldiers seeing and potentially teasing him for it - it’s all in good fun, of course, but Gorou is more than a little shy at the best of times. He doesn’t really get it, and may pull you aside to ask you more questions, but there’s just something about it that doesn’t seem to click for him. Though, once he knows you’re being kind and genuine, and that the plush was a one-off commission and not some kind of mass-produced piece, he’s more inclined to allow it, though he’ll get all blushy whenever he thinks about it - he just can’t quite process the fact that you like him enough to own something like that. Even if his soldiers happen to catch on, they realise that there’s a boundary of sorts there, though they may donate little trinkets and tiny toy weapons to the ‘miniature general’ as a sort of good luck ritual before big battles.

Tighnari finds the plush one day when you accidentally leave it sitting out - his initial reaction is one of utter confusion as he wonders if his admirers have grown so bold that they’re now making merchandise of him on top of the trading cards that are circulating. The moment he picks it up and realises it’s drenched in your scent, he’s pleasantly surprised and more than a little flattered. The concept of comfort objects is quite familiar to him, and he takes care to place the toy exactly where he found it. He keeps a closer eye out in an attempt to catch you in the act, partially out of curiosity, but also a little because he likes the confidence boost he gains from it, and how embarrassed you seem to be about the whole situation, hiding the toy away whenever he comes near. If it’s ever brought up, he just kind of laughs it off, but the twitching of his ears reveals how endeared he is to this specific trait of yours. He may also try to find ways to subtly direct you towards Collei, who also has similar comfort objects of her own and can be pretty embarrassed about them at times - this may end up with both of you having cute little Tighnari plushies in your possession.

Rex Lapis takes it pretty well in stride, doesn’t even comment on it at first - after all, this is basically a form of worship, no? That is, until he realises that you treat the toy as a companion more than an item of reverence. He’s a little confused about it at first, watching as you walk about with the plush dragon tucked in your arms, chattering away to it. Eventually, he caves and rumbles out his questions about it, asking if this is meant to be some form of teasing or mockery and listening intently as you awkwardly try to fumble out an acceptable explanation. It takes him some time to grasp the concept that it’s simply an item of comfort to you, and even then he’s not entirely convinced it’s some kind of adeptal trick or machine brought to life somehow.

Xiao isn’t sure how to react. It’s not something you really chose to hide from him, considering his own outlandish habits, you figured he probably wouldn’t even care, but it seems that his fight or flight kicks in whenever he glimpses you with the plush that bears such a striking resemblance to him. His cheeks flush and his pointed ears tilt downwards as he crosses his arms over his chest and demands to see the toy, asking where you got it and why you have it. It’s not quite something he can wrap his head around - why would you want to have something that looks like him when you could just call his name and have the real him there in an instant? If he’s feeling particularly agitated that day, he may just pocket the toy and walk away with it - it’s not the first time he’s done something like that to one of your belongings, and you know it won’t be the last. Following him reveals that he tucks it away in a secluded corner of his nest amongst the high branches of Wangshu Inn, maybe even placing some other similar trinkets and scraps of fabric around it like an imitation of his own nest. He might just turn a blind eye if you happen to be brave enough to try and steal it back from him, though this may end up in an impromptu long-term game of ‘capture the flag’.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

[nomazee]

hello, could I request a model! Dan Heng x fashion designer! Reader? Here’s some keywords if they might help, tiredness, praise, warmth, try-on. The timestamp is 17:57, thank you so much!

as always i had too much fun with this... i love the idea of model dan heng but i still made him an awkward wet rag in this one (because i love him) THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!!!

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

You greet Dan Heng with your usual warm smile and a “hey, love” that never fails to fluster him. He’s heard it from you a handful of times now, visiting your studio a few times a week at your request for fittings and some brainstorming sessions. He thinks that the frequency and timing of his visits is definitely unnecessary from a professional standpoint, but he’s not planning on bringing that up any time soon. Not when your hands are so kind, light on his shoulders as you guide him through your studio. 

“I started on the pieces that I showed you the sketches for, um, last week, was it? I’m kind of losing track of time.” Dan Heng wouldn’t tell you out loud, but he can tell. There’s a huge table in the center of the room, and he can barely see its surface beneath all the cut fabric and tracing paper and tangled thread from your serger. For someone working under deadline after deadline, you’re handling yourself better than he would, but he still can’t help the heat of concern flickering in the crease of his brow. 

This is your debut show, he knows as much. So he won’t meddle with your workflow. Only hope that you can somehow pick up the signals that he’s sending you to please sit down and maybe drink water? 

“I need you to try them on,” you tell him, a gentle command as you hand him a hanger draped in silky fabrics and delicate laces. “There’s pants and a lace shirt. I’ll turn around while you change, but you need to be wearing pretty much nothing underneath these, if that’s okay. And then I’ll hem your pants—let me get you some shoes…” you’re trailing off, passing the clothes to him before turning around in a rush to find him a pair of heeled boots. 

The fabric is— it’s nice. The pants are some kind of silky, lustrous material, dark blue and cool on his skin, and the shirt is embarrassingly sheer but you’ve seen him in and out of clothes in the last month often enough that he can’t really be too sheepish about it now. What does make him flush, however, is the look on your face as you turn around to stare at him, black heeled shoes forgotten in your hands as your eyes flit across Dan Heng’s form. 

He can hear the soft breaths that you take, no more labored than usual, but it feels so intimate and so quiet that his palms grow damp. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he waits for you to— say something, anything, tell him to take it off and go home or maybe stay, instead. The back of his neck feels itchy and he’s pretty sure you haven’t blinked yet. 

“The, um. It looks…” you’re trailing off, again, but you’re also walking towards him until you’re so close he can hear your breathing even more distinctly than before, along with the rustling of your own clothes as you lift up a hand to play with the ornamented collar of his shirt. “The color is nice on you. It’s different from the other pieces I’ve made you try, right?” 

Dan Heng only has enough strength to nod in response, the rest of his energy taken away by the feeling of your finger tips on the soft, pliant skin beneath his jaw. He’s sweating— so much, it must be gross, but he can see you chewing the inside of your cheek as you drag your fingers to the seam on the shoulder. 

“I was thinking a sash around the waist, but I don’t think it suits this outfit. Maybe I can add something like that to the pieces from last week, though.” And you’re back to your usual self, much to his dismay. Your rambling is endearing and tender, but your previously weighted gaze has now lightened, focused on the waist of his pants and the hand-sewn hook-and-bar closure, and Dan Heng misses having it trained on him. You’ve never been this close, this warm, this focused on him in particular, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to fight the urge to take your hands between his own. 

“Dan Heng,” you say his name, breaking him out of his anxious reverie with a quiet call. “You have a lot on your plate for this show. You have three outfit changes, which can be a lot, but I know you’re capable. Do you know you’re capable?” 

He wants to say this is silly, that you’re the last person who should be telling anybody else that they have a lot on their plate, considering that you’re sewing more than a dozen garments all on your own, with no assistants besides your in-and-out mentors who rarely find time to help. He says none of that, though, because your gaze is trained on his again and he’s busy hoping you don’t notice all the little involuntary twitches in his face. 

“Yeah, I’m— I know.” 

You smile, again, something saccharine and addictive and he wants to chase it, over and over and over. “Good. You’re my favorite model, you know. It’s important that you’re ready.” 

Dan Heng could say a million things. He could say this is unprofessional, or joke and say that he’s currently one of your only models, or tell you that he’s always ready as long as he’s wearing something put together by you and your hands alone. Instead, he nods like a fool, stumbling over a weak “okay” and trying to ignore the way his stomach twists when you laugh a little. 

“I’ll be doing your makeup for the show, too. I hope you don’t mind that. I just wanted to do something specific for you,” and it’s hit after hit with you, and his throat squeezes again because you’re still smiling and talking all about him like he’s your prized gift, and he really really doesn’t hate it. “You trust me with an eyeliner pen, right?” 

His mouth is dry, but he forces himself to joke back before you kick him out for being so awkward. “I trust you with a needle more than I trust you with a makeup brush.” And you laugh, and his stomach still hurts but the tightness of his mouth loosens up into a diffident smile. It’s just a joke, really, because he wouldn’t mind you handling a brush against his face, or the gentle press of your fingers on his cheeks and on top of his eyelids, or the awestruck look you give him every time he tries something on, or the weight of your hands on his shoulders when you drag him around your studio.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @hanyi-writes

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

[bogleech]

THINGS THAT WERE GOOD IN THE ORIGINAL "DISGAEA: HOUR OF DARKNESS:" This game helped further popularize the trope of "this is an ADULT demon fellas it just incidentally looks 13 ;)" and ran with that even more as the series went on, but in my late teens I had a lot of fun with the game itself and the following things were great:

This unbeatable ghost design, look at that face

I thought the "treant" was really cool!

The badass pumpkinhead monster type that's always smoking. Of course a pumpkinhead smokes!! Its basic attack animation had it take the cigarette out and hold it out of the way while it stabbed with a big ass knife. Amazing.

The generic male dark mage just called a "skull," with his outfit sewn into him?! He was voice acted with weird "MMMMPH!!!" noises because of his face stitched shut. DO NOT look up what they did to this design in later installments.

The shark dragons oddly translated as "serpents"

It wasn't even normal in-universe for a succubus to look like a prepubescent kid and the normal succubi performed all bite and drain attacks with a hidden snake head that morphed out of their tails; biologically speaking that makes it their "real mouth" doesn't it??? But then what's that make the one on their humanoid head :( Is this a situation where the whole creature is backwards and the "tail" is even the real head or are they like girafarig with a brain at both ends?! Anyway they don't let you put away the core main characters, but I actually had them hang back and stubbornly played the whole game with a Halloweeny Monster team of just all these.

I guess the series mascots the Prinnies bear mentioning because if you didn't know what was up with them, these weird peg-legged penguin dolls, which explode when anyone throws them, are canonically the vessels human souls or defeated demons have to occupy in hell. I don't know if there's a Japanese pun behind their concept or it was just a lolrandom marketable animal

[gmanwhore]

The inhabitants of Sunshine Terrace/Apartment Block 5598: Personal notes by The dOOrman! You know. The doorman. Of Sunshine Terrace.

Roman Stilinsky: Pleasant. Like no real stuff for him. We rarely ever talk. I mean, like. We talk enough for me to know him I guess? He hates the taste of black tea and he likes jazz. That’s all I really know. 

Lois Stilinsky: She’s a bit of a gossip, and is probably the best at makeup in the whole apartment! She’s not a huge fan of having to keep her looks the same all the time. She loves the smell of grapefruit and her favorite perfume smells like it. 

Robertsky Peachman: He doesn’t talk much! He’s not stupid like some people think, he’s just like that. He’s a hard worker and I can respect that. He can’t stand loud noises.

Albertsky Peachman: He can be just a bit rude, but it’s ok. It’s not often. He just wants to get home. I just don’t think he likes people all that much. He always shuts the door to the front lobby behind him even if it closes on its own. 

Angus Ciprianni: I don’t have mush to say anything but he is so fake. He also throws a lot of parties to literally everyone’s annoyance. Especially me! His shoelaces are fake, he can’t tie them and he hates birds. 

Selenne and Elenois Sverchtz: They are the faces of the “sameness is beauty” movement, a new trend encouraging people to stick to particular outfits and looks and not change them. As twins they were deemed the perfect candidates for this. They are a bit uncanny as they do in fact. Just act like the same person just reflected in a mirror. They also have cats. Two. They are twins. They are pleasant to be around, but tend to leave other people out of their inside jokes. One of their jokes is laughing at palimdromes. 

Arnold Schmicht: He used to be a horror writer before. Ten years ago. He is not trying horror writer anymore, he tends towards more domestic pieces generally inspired by our neighbours. I’ve read a few of his books, both old and recent. I find his new pieces also have a certain sense of dread built into them, like he wants so desperately to explore those darer topics again. You also wouldn’t clock him as a horror writer! He loves jokes, and is a very bright, talkative man. He’s also just great to hang out with. He loves being asked about his latest project, and he likes eating lemons like oranges. 

Gloria Schmict: She isn’t as done with everything as she looks! She’s just usually really tired after a long day of helping people at the bank. She has quite the dry sense of humour, but that doesn’t mean she’s not fun to talk to! She’s one of the most observant of my neighbours, which also makes her slightly paranoid. I definitely get it, though. We have a sort of solidarity I think. She’s afraid of spiders, but she likes snakes. Her favorite colour is yellow. 

Izaack Gauss: Despite his general air, he’s actually really easy to talk to. While I’m not close with him at all I get why people like him. He swears by using Gerome’s Hair Gel, it’s the only brand he uses. He also can’t stand the taste of mint unless it’s mixed in with something. 

Margarette Bubbles: Her favorite things to sew are dresses, and she actually specialises in bridesmaid’s dresses though she does do general repairs for people. She always has her bag of sewing materials on hand, and has a great eye for colour. She actually can’t really see out of her lazy eye, though she has horrible depth perception because of it. She’s a gossip QUEEN and knows quite a bit. Her house is really comfortable, and she has a lot of hand-sewn dog stuffed animals there since she loves dogs but can’t have them. She has a bias for St. Brenards. She makes the BEST turnovers I have ever eaten and she refuses to tell me her secret to them. Her favorite colours are burnt orange and royal purple, and she loves the smell of pine. 

Nacha Mikaelys: She almost always has something sticking out her hair, things just get tangled there! She says she’s been meaning to cut her hair for a while but she’s worried about getting mistaken for a doppleganger so she’s waiting until we have to get new ids. She’s really loud, but in a good way! She wears jewlery usually, she says she has a little bag for her earrings and bracelets for when she’s cooking. She owns a chef hat for home but doesn’t wear one at work. She collects her daughter’s broken slinkies and keeps them in her purse and she has a locket she refuses to tall me what’s in. She loves banana bread and her favorite animals are pigeons. She also has lovespoons hanging up in her apartment!

Anastacha Mikaelys: She doesn’t really like people, she gets overwhelmed easily in social situations so she avoids them. She likes slinkies, and the smell of normal household soap. She actually has a huge slinky collection, but she only lets you see them or play with them if she trusts you. She wants a hamster, and Nacha told me not to tell her but Nacha is saving up to suprise her. 

Mia Stone: She doesn’t believe fully in the dopplegangers and can be quite rude when coming through! She almost always “forgets” to tell me when she leaves so I can’t add her to my list. She is curt and to the point when she talks, and tends to overexplain things. Then again she works with small kids so I can let that slide. She knows how to tango. 

Dr. W.  Afton: He also thinks having a doorman is stupid, but he’s a bit ruder. He doesn’t really say hello to me and tends to turn his whole body to the door when I say he’s cleared to go. I think he doesn’t like the wait. His favorite colour is olive green. 

Francis Mosses: He isn’t all that interesting. He doesn’t hate his job, but he doesn’t like it. He jokes about just sleeping in his car a lot, and sometimes he just. Randomly breaks into scared ranting about our situation. He tends to stay alone, and when I went over to his house once it was. Kinda depressing, it didn’t feel like he actually lived there at all. He likes ribbons and collects them off the street, and he says his favorite colour is scarlet. 

Steven Rudboys: He’s much less serious than he comes off. He speaks quietly and mumbles a lot, but he gets loud when he’s excited. He has a passion for the history of planes, but not really of flying. He only really became a pilot because he struggles with doing matinence on the planes. He likes puns, and when he realizes he has an in he lights up a bit. He likes cats and birds, and he’s really good at making a duck call. 

Mclooy Rudboys: He called me “sweetheart” once and I tried blowing him up with my mind. He makes jokes about his son possibly not being his??? He’s divorced at least three times and told me “he’s lost count” and apparently he fought in World War 2 and retired from being a pilot after that. He likes eagles and only smokes cigars. 

Alf Cappuccin: He’s sort of hard of hearing and tends to not like. Understand what I’m saying so I have to use cards so he gets what I’m saying. He’s a few years younger than McClooy. He likes his porridge with brown sugar and raspberries and he likes the smell of brown paper bags. 

Rafttellyn Cappuccin: Rafttellyn tends to be quite nervous and timid, she doesn’t really talk much. She has the highest voice by far. She dyes her hair, it’s actually grey but she gets a bit nervous about it. She loves apples and always has them in a wooden bowl on her table. Her perfume smells like old roses.

[the-s1lly-corner]

what do you think is tadc cast love language? 🤔

TADC cast and their love languages!

I actually answered a lot of these in the fluff alphabet (which I no longer take requests for <\3) so a lot of this is going to be regurgitated! Hope that's okay!

CAINE:

Caine shows his love to you by absolutely showering you in gifts, as well as verbally spilling his guts out onto the floor to you. A lot. Not a day will go by where he doesnt say he loves you. Now recieving? Hes not sure, actually! Hes still figuring out what he wants, me thinks, especially since hes new to the love thing! I think he would like physical touch

POMNI:

Giving and receiving, Pomnis love language is quality time and words of affirmation. Which is even more important in this weird digital world you guys are both stuck in. You guys basically serves as one another's lovers, as well as a rock

JAX:

Giving, its teasing and pranks... but sometime these pranks are different than his usual ones... sometimes, at the end of the chaos theres a little gift left there. Nothing too big, like maybe a flower or some candy but

You know?

Bro is a sour patch kid/j

Recieving I think his thing would be physical touch... giving too, but his is more so a fake-clingy thing to keep you close... though.... hes never rejected handholding or hugs from you... hmm..

RAGATHA:

Gift giving for giving! Quality time for giving and recieving! Ragatha makes a lot of gifts, from flower crowns to hand sewn outfits/pillows/blankets/ect ! She loves spending the evening with you unwinding after an IHA, even sitting alone together in comfortable silence is enough for her

KINGER:

Giving and recieving he absolutely adores quality time! I mean hes lost before, and he wants to spend every second with you.. a lot of times he follows you around, too, keeping you in sight

Please reassure him, that can go a long way for him. Tell him that you love him and you're not going anywhere; abstraction or otherwise

Physical touch is a big thing for him too, also giving and recieving

ZOOBLE:

Zooble is a little interesting since I dont think they show that much affection, at least not in usual ways.. probably spends a lot of time with you.. which given that zooble tends to want to be alone and left alone... speaks volumes.. said it once and I'll say it again, you're the only one allowed in their room. You're also the first person allowed into their room. Take that as you will... recieving, I dont think zooble is too big on physical touch or gushing... simple "I love yous" is enough for them.. though.. when you randomly show that you remember an obscure fact about them or their interests, they get this.. look in their eyes.. like they light up, just a little bit

GANGLE:

Reassurance is gangles go to, in terms of recieving. She already has to deal with jax, and on top of that her shyness. I dont think she really. Thinks highly of herself. Please tell her shes worth every second

In terms of giving, gangles love language is gift giving. She makes you arts and crafts and all that for you

[aratitty-itto]

Diluc's In-game outfits: An analysis

His regular outfit- Official name Darknight Blaze (really Diluc???) source First, it's similar to the long coat he wears in the manga when he's still in the knights. The ropes he has on one shoulder are something you usually only see on military uniforms, too. Also, the belt that crosses the chest and then one across the hip- that's similar to a weapon/sword belt, and it's one many of the knights have with the one across the chest there to keep the belt from sagging. These are two things I think Diluc had in the knights and incorporated into his later outfit. The all black with some gilt/gold is because Diluc is dramatic and likes the color and also looks good in it. The red on the gloves I personally think is also because Diluc is, again, dramatic and determined to wallow in guilt, so he made the palms red "to remind himself of the blood on his hands" or some shit. (I'll admit this is headcanon territory but i think it's really in character.)

Practically, the coat is armor. The coat looks and moves like it's made of some heavy material. I think it would be wool, because wool as a material has a lot of bonuses. It burns after some time- but is hard to catch on fire. It's a great insulator, so it keeps heat in in the cold . . . . and also keeps it out in. It doesn't melt to your skin like some materials (usually synthetic ones) would when burned. Wool can withstand the temperatures of a regular campfire normally for a fair amount of time, and even higher temps if its specially treated. It's used in firefighter suits even today for all of these reasons. Wool keeps you warm even in rain. It also repels water because of the oils in wool and it takes a lot to get it wet.

And as for armor- Heavy and/or padded fabric is fantastic about spreading out the force of a blow. Diluc would probably barely feel an average punch and maybe get a bruise from a sword slash. It might even block a stab from a dagger or sword (depends on weapon quality and force behind it) or at least keep the stab from going in too far. Those giant arm cuffs have a purpose- double the armor on his wrists, one of the most important things to keep from getting injured while fighting. Same for that little capelet- a hit on the shoulders or near the spine would stagger you and make it hard to swing a heavy claymore with the force necessary. I definitely think Diluc decided to put his collar up like that because he thinks it makes him look cool- and then realized it helped prevent slashes to the back of his neck. The coat is open in the front- but you're able to guard your front a lot easier than your back. Even the fact that its sewn in all those weird shapes is useful. If it gets cut/burnt/bloodied too much in one section he simply rips the seams on those specific panels to replace them, instead of having to replace the whole coat. Also, if you headcanon Diluc as autistic I can tell you that wearing a wool cape/coat is like wearing a weighted blanket. It feels so nice. i also wonder if there's something about self-consciousness, and feeling like he needs several layers between his body and the rest of the world at all times.

Red Dead of Night- 5-star skin

source His Hidden Strife event outfit. In the Hidden Strife event we got it in he said something like "It's an old outfit he got while fighting the Fatui." It looks a bit similar to the Pyro agents, actually. Not so much the recent ones besides the feather-like coattails, but I bet the Fatui changed military uniforms, partly because uniform changes happen regularly and partly because Diluc may have been using Fatui uniforms to sneak into bases and such.

He probably doesn't wear it all the time for darknight heroing, but it comes in handy for certain things because-

-if its night you will only see shapes instead of colors and red isn't actually super noticeable in the dark, if someone sees it they will see the distinctive tailcoat that looks a lot like a Fatui Agent, and will assume its Fatui- perfect for if he wants the Fatui blamed for this action.

-if it is a Fatui uniform he stole it's a combat uniform so its meant to be maneuverable in combat. if he has it why not use it.

-already has armor built in, its probably meant for Pyro agents so it's presumably fire resistant. I've seen several cosplays made with leather which would make a lot of sense, it's light, maneuverable, fire resistant and provides light armor.

-and probably the original reason he has it- it has bird theming, the bird on the waistcoat and the back looks like tail feathers, it's red, it's fire-themed, I bet you when Diluc first saw it he was so jealous and needed one himself. And then realized all the other practical points of stealing one.

In conclusion, Diluc is wearing armor at all times even when it looks like he isn't. I wonder what he would wear for purely comfort?

[roseltheteacup]

“RED” /// POST-GAME /// RE-BUILT AND RE-ACTIVATED

A more fully-formed sequel to my headcanons post, along with the postgame outfit I designed for him!

“Red” was born from necessity. He was Felix’s response to being reanimated and losing his memory, and Red simply occupied the front seat in Felix’s mind, climbing towards All City as the real Felix reformed subconsciously. Red was essentially Felix’s line of defence without even realising it.

Red is also represented by the cyberhead. Since that cyberhead didn't have all of its components removed to fit Felix’s head, aspects like its memory chip remained intact to document everything Red experienced on his journey, making it possible for him to remember things once he’s reactivated in postgame, where he receives a true machine mind and AI.

It took time before the crew understood that Felix wasn't Red. While still lending himself to the BRC, their teammate was… different, than they remember. Tryce and Bel know that the change happened somewhere in Mataan, but due to everything that was happening at the time, never got to confirm it with Red/Felix himself.

It took two weeks before Red was back in working order, and in those weeks, he was basically between life and death. Everyone: Prince, DJ Cyber and even DOT.EXE pooled all their efforts together to reanimate their friend and bring back the person known only as “Red.”

And so, Red was given the chance to live as his own person and as a true cyberhead, without fear of his life only serving as a liminal space between where Faux ended and Felix began. He is no longer temporary.

Red uses Faux’s discarded body as a base, but due to some wounds being too severe, more than half of his limbs had to be replaced with cybernetic prosthetics, including a modified spine. Being fully AI, Red adapted to this quicker than most humans do, but still required time and physical therapy to get back on his metaphorical feet again (and his literal feet.)

When looking at his cyberlimbs, he does feel a sense of… completeness. Red was born from a collage of other people, and throughout his existence, has struggled with the concept of being “temporary.” But his body, now, proves that he wasn't so. He is more than the sum of his parts, sewn back together by people who love him, and owning a life that he owes to no one but himself.

He lets everyone sign his prosthetics. Bel started it first and signed in an obvious spot, and annoyed Tryce until he did the same. Felix signed in a more inconspicuous spot (knee) because he likes giving Red the space to be his own person.

Red and Felix are like siblings in the sense that Felix is supposed to be the responsible one and Red is (mostly unintentionally) the annoying gremlin.

Probably nonbinary but also likes the category of “dude” and “guy” so he doesn't really give a shit.

“I don't really care about all this.”

“You don't?”

Works part-time at the Domino's equivalent in the Bomb Rush universe and always brings his board to work. If you see him performing tricks in the kitchen: please don't tell his manager. He's very proud of this job.

He likes watching those “Isopods eating food” videos.

[elizabethemerald]

Summon the Cat: Part 6

Master Post

Danny crouched, looking down at the McMansion from a neighboring roof. The house was ostentatious to a fault. He wasn’t much of an expert on architecture in general but he had studied this building’s design extensively. It had been built to one up its next door neighbor that Danny was currently waiting upon. Due to trying to get the most of the available acreage the mansion pressed up against its neighbors, rather than the extensive topiary gardens the rest of the rich mansions had. 

The house Danny was on had a pool house that once had a beautiful view, except the garage of the McMansion now overshadowed it. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. All rich people were fruit loops. The continued drama with Bruce just proved him right. 

According to Selina (his new mom!!) Bruce had thrown seven kinds of fits about the Kyle family moving in next door. He had tried to bench Red Robin for selling Drake Manor, but Tim just moved out to his penthouse in Gotham proper and had the occasional sleep over at the Kyle House when he was feeling lonely. 

The kids all seemed happy to have the Kyles and the Sirens so close. Jason and Dick were over every other week, Jason to experiment with his cooking, Dick to train Danny and Jazz in gymnastics. Danny loved Jason’s skill in the kitchen and was paying avid attention so he could learn how to cook, because he certainly didn’t want the Fenton’s terror in the kitchen to infect him. Jazz was content to know that they were both eating nutritious food that they didn’t have to fight. Also, she had apparently always wanted to be in gymnastics but the Fentons considered it less important than ghost hunting and she couldn’t afford the lessons on her own. Danny of course used the lessons during his training with his mom to be a cat burglar. 

Jazz spent a lot of time with Stephanie and Cassandra. Bruce had tried to bench them as well, except Steph had laughed in his face while Cass had stolen any equipment they needed and the pair moved into the Kyle House, more specifically into Jazz’s bedroom. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what the three girls were up to in there, the love bites on Jazz’s shoulders made it obvious, but he didn’t want to think about his sister’s love life, though he was happy that the two girls made her so happy. 

He stuck out his tongue in disgust at the reminder of the one time he had a nightmare and almost walked in on the triad, then groaned quietly as he had licked the inside of his mask. Danny, Selina and the rest of the Sirens worked together to design his new costume. His nose and mouth were covered by a rigid mask and respirator shaped into the rictus grin of the Cheshire Cat. Selina had bemoaned not thinking about covering her face more with her costume. Harley had recommended leaning into his creepy factor, with the grin and slit eyes on his goggles. He could make both glow when he wanted to up the creep factor even more. 

Danny had enjoyed crafting the character he wanted to portray with his mom and his two aunts. He would allow his giggles to get caught on cameras, or the glow of his eyes to be seen. It was fun to be spooky without also getting chased by either his parents or the GIW. He had chosen the name Chesire as his thief name as an homage to his mom’s name of Catwoman. He had heard that there was apparently a villain named Chesire already, but he hoped that considering they were interested in such different crimes she wouldn’t be mad. 

His outfit was equipped with top of the line tools. Some he had made himself, some he had pickpocketed from the bats, including his own father. He made certain that he kept a clear division between when he was out as Chesire and when he was hanging out with the Waynes as Danny Kyle. He didn’t want them to worry about his intentions when he was with them. Harley had sewn his costume and the reinforcements necessary to tangle with the Justice League and the Bats. Ivy had given Danny some toys as well, his respirator could filter out any plant based toxin, and he had some pollens, spores and toxins of his own to knock out guards. 

On top of the mask and goggles he had a loose cowl with cat ears on top that completed his look. The cowl hid his identity without hampering his movement like the stiff ears Batman had would. He loved the spookiness of allowing his eyes to glow through his goggles from the depths of the hood. 

Danny tilted his head as a click sounded in his ear piece. He grinned and jumped across the high fence to their target. Selina was used to working by herself so she kept any conversation to a minimum, relying on small signals to show him when it was time to move. 

He landed lightly on an air conditioning unit, using just a touch of flight to slow his landing and eliminate the sound. He stood on his tiptoes and pulled a screwdriver from his kit. He had rebuilt the small tool himself, making it whisper quiet. Even the small sound of the tool was covered by the whir of the AC unit as he unscrewed the vent above his head. He gently pried the vent cover off, then hooked a cord through the vent itself so it dangled from the opening. 

Danny levered himself up and into the small opening. He couldn’t imagine his mom squeezing through the small gap, even though she had to do that herself when she was younger. Fortunately, he was skinny as a twig and had his ghost strength to lift himself up. Aunt Harley called him wiry. Jason called him a shrimp, though he changed his tune when Danny dead lifted him. 

He crept across the ductwork above the garage, looking down on the cars after he pulled the vent cover back into place with the cord and secured it with a bit of plain Blu tack. Mom insisted that you could have the best tech in the world, but sometimes simple solutions were the best. They had considered stealing the fancy showpiece cars, but cars were much easier to track and they already had Bruce breathing down their necks so they weren’t worth it. That didn’t mean they couldn’t cause some chaos, just for fun. 

Danny hooked his ankle around one of the duct supports and leaned down until he was upside down and took careful aim with a grapple he pickpocketed from Nightwing only this past week. He had been practicing this shot for hours every day for weeks. He took a deep breath, then triggered the grapple. The hook bounced off the concrete under a fake Model T at the perfect angle to hook the top of a storage rack against the wall. The rack was filled with tools and parts so the rich prick who owned the McMansion could pretend he actually worked on the cars himself. 

He reeled in the grapple until the shelf was on the verge of tipping forward, the cable straining against the bottom of the Model T, and he couldn’t help his namesake Cheshire grin. He hooked the grapple gun onto the duct support and playfully tapped the taut line like a piano string. This would make a delightful mess to cover his exit. 

Another click in his ear reminded him that they were on a time clock. Selina had bought them a couple of hours free of the Bat and that time was closing steadily. He finished making his way into the house proper. He found the central control for the house’s security system easily enough. He broke the cover off the panel and quickly bypassed the security. 

Selina had been surprised by his ease with bypassing electronic systems. Danny had learned a lot from Tucker and repeated encounters with Technus, but he had been dealing with the security systems of the Fentons for as long as he could remember. He could rewire and bypass most security systems in his sleep, and they wouldn’t even shoot him if he failed. 

He tapped his ear piece sending a single click and after a few moments he was joined by his mom as she walked in the front door, bold as brass. She smiled at him and rubbed his head, causing Danny to preen and his core to thrum in his chest. 

“Well done, kitten.” She said, practically purring in pride, before she glanced around the ground floor of the McMansion. “Now, Cheshire. You picked this mark, let’s get away with everything we can.” 

The mother-son duo made quick work of the mansion’s valuables. Art pieces and statues were slipped into a bag that Danny had connected to the Infinite Realms. The ectoplasm would short out any electronics or trackers and they wouldn’t have to worry about fleeing while loaded down. He would be able to recover the larger goods later when the heat had all but disappeared. He didn’t have perfect control over his portal abilities, but it was enough to get back and forth from the Realms. Training his powers with Selina and his aunts had really improved his skills. 

The two of them worked in tandem, flawlessly stripping valuables, cracking a safe in the bedroom, and taking everything they could get their claws on. Danny felt flushed with happiness. He was working alongside his mom, stealing from a rich prick who stole from his workers, he felt amazing. 

A click sounded in both of their ears, causing them to pause. Their window of Bat free time just closed. They slung their collection of valuables over their shoulders and began to race back through the house. Selina split off, her whip cracking as she swung off to another building. Danny made his way back into the garage as Robin and Red Robin landed behind him. Danny smiled, and allowed his eyes and mouth to glow for the full Cheshire effect. 

He activated the grapple gun as he passed and with a whir and an almighty crash the storage rack collapsed down onto the vintage vehicles. Red Robin yelped as he tried to follow but was forced to dodge a bouncing tire. Robin was far more nimble making his way through the mess, but he was still delayed enough by the wreckage for Danny to dive through the vent and jump to get back to the roof of the pool house next door. As soon as he was out of range of the cameras he vanished and lifted up into the air, flying silently and invisibly. He carefully moderated his body temperature so he was exactly the same temp as the surrounding night air. He didn’t want to risk showing up on heat sensors used by the Bats. 

Danny followed another crack of his mom’s whip to where she was running just ahead of the Bat himself. He scowled as Bruce threw a pair of Batarangs at her, though he was relieved as she nimbly dodged them. Danny may have had numerous problems with the Fentons, but at least he never had to be afraid of one of them hurting each other. Seeing his mom in danger from the man who should be his dad filled him with a cold anger. He tapped his ear piece to let her know he was free of the mansion and that he was close. 

Selina stopped running and turned, to saucily sashay towards the heavily armored Batman. He had considered making his costume super flirty and evocative like his mom’s but it made him uncomfortable, like ants were on his skin to have people stare at him like that. Jazz had reminded him that he didn’t have to do everything exactly like Selina did, and that it was important for him to carve his own path forward. 

“Catwoman. Enough is enough. I need you to submit to testing. You are being controlled.” Batman growled, and Danny struggled not to growl right back. He wasn’t controlling her! And how dare this jerk growl at his mom!

“Submit? To you? That’s not how our arrangements usually work.” Selina said with a coy smile as she swished her whip across the rooftop, not even acknowledging the rest of his words. Apparently after the past couple of months she had grown bored with trying to argue with him, and she was refusing to be tested for mind control just to antagonize him. 

Also, gross. 

That was another reason he was glad he didn’t copy her flirty persona. His mom was very comfortable with her body and her sexuality and she admitted she got a thrill when she used either to control people around her. Danny, who was still coming to terms with possibly being ace and had all the body issues of a bullied teen, only felt anxious when he tried to flirt. 

He crept through the air towards his mom, pulling strongly on his intangibility and control of his own temperature to make himself completely undetectable. He carefully watched the Bat for any sudden moves. 

“Catwoman-” 

“Don’t you ever get tired?” Selina asked, still playfully swishing her whip across the roof. “You’re so certain you’re right, even after months, even in the face of all evidence. Honestly you’re just like the Fentons. I know you’ve looked into them, think about that the next time you want to have me submit to your battery of tests.” 

Bruce tried to keep his emotions locked down, but Danny could see the micro expression even with the heavy cowl. The small twitch would have been a full flinch in a lesser man. Danny’s scowl deepened as he realized just how similar he was to the Fentons. He just hoped this time wouldn’t end with him strapped to a table. 

“Selina-” 

His voice had softened, but Danny saw his mom move her arm to the side, the signal they had agreed on. He grabbed her, passing his flight and intangibility to her as he allowed his invisibility to roll back enough to reveal his grinning mask. Bruce stiffened, his lips tightening in fury. He reached for some tool from his belt, but Danny wasn’t going to stay around to see what it was. He lifted his mom effortlessly from the roof, and let himself giggle as he rocked his head side to side as his invisibility rolled over him until just his smile was visible, before vanishing completely. 

He flew with his mom in his arms, finding themselves on the other side of Gotham close to Selina’s old penthouse. He set her down and pulled his invisibility back so they both appeared out of thin air. He knew the rictus grin on his mask and the cat’s eyes on his goggles were glowing brightly as his core flared in delight. 

“Amazing job, Chess.” Selina said fondly, pulling him to a hug before she pushed his cowl back so she could kiss his head. Danny held her tightly and let his core purr wildly to show his delight. She pulled back her own cowl, revealing her face and her tight black curls. She looked him over closely to make sure he was uninjured. “Cheshire, you and I are a team made in thief heaven. I look forward to watching your perspective as you went in.”

Danny smiled widely, and pulled his own goggles over his head, and lowered his mask. 

“It was great! I even made that trick shot I was practicing, brought the whole rack down onto his stupid fake vintage cars. Of course if they were real, they would basically shrug it off, but they crumpled! Ruined his whole collection.” 

Danny had started floating as he laughed through his retelling. He transformed with a thought, his ghost form matching his Cheshire costume more and more as the months went by. His tail whipped back and forth through the air as he excitedly paced back and forth above the roof they were on. 

“Danny…” He paused at the solemn tone in his mom’s voice. She had a sad tilt to her eyebrows that he had noticed she had occasionally when she looked at him in his ghost form. 

“Y-yeah?” His voice cracked a little, he was more trepidatious than he wanted to admit. 

“Danny, would you like a grave?” Selina asked. 

He felt like the word thundered through his head, and he found himself landing on the roof next to his mom, his mouth open.

[spiderman-intotheshitterverse]

PunkNoir/NoirPunk Headcannons

Clothing/looks related :)

• Hobie puts a lot of effort into himself, like everything in his outfits is a statement, and even if his clothes aren’t very consistent , they are cohesive

• Peter on the other hand doesn’t have a lot of fashion knowledge. He can’t experiment with colors or with any unique clothing in his day and age so his clothes stay in the button up and black pants range mostly. (I say he has the no fashion sense straight man energy but still tries his best to look dapper)

• When Hobie visits Peter he’ll steal clothes and add them to his wardrobe, the black and white contrast nicely with his normal ones or adds something of his into Peter’s.

• So when Peter goes to look at his clothes for the next day he finds a shirt missing and a bright, ripped, hot pink cropped shirt in its place. (He finds this cute and wears them in his own home)

• Sometimes Hobie does this too often and Peter finds himself lacking any of his original clothes so he has to do a run to Hobie’s to get his clothes back.

• Hobie playfully pouts a bit when Peter does this but doesn’t mind it. The first time when Hobie did this Peter expected that Hobie’s closet would only consist of black and white stuff now but there still was a abundance of colorful clothing pieces.

• Hobie also has unique piercings, pins and patches that he adds to everything he owns and loves, this included Peter

• So when Peter’s in his home after hanging out with Hobie he’ll sometimes find a few pins in his pocket or a patch sewn onto his jacket. (Hobie tries to get Peter to pierce his ears but hasn’t succeeded yet)

• Hobie wears eyeliner and some graphic liners if he’s feeling fancy, and does Peter’s makeup if they hangout together. Sometimes he gifts his almost used eyeliner pens to Peter for him to try at home.

• Since Peter has met Hobie, he’s become more experimental with his style when he’s alone or with Hobie, but around others he sticks with his usual. (He does love to put a bit of rouge on his lips and cheeks as a subtle thing, Hobie gave him the rouge)

• Peter and Hobie have “friendship” bracelets that they made for each other, both matching the others universe aka Hobie wears a black and white one and Peter a very colorful one.

• Hobie does the very stereotypical thing and wears Peter’s clothes after a night together (it’s very cliche, they both love it)

(Yes I wrote this to procrastinate writing the next chapter of my fic because I hate hate hate writing mornings cause they’re so awkward to write like no I don’t wanna write Hobie eating breakfast and making toast ughh I want him to have a gay panic attack)

[elusiiev]

The Brainrot is Consuming me.

anyway earlier me an my friends were discussing what kinda clothes the main cast of omor would wear bc.... yk half of the cast is in fucking npc ass attire, and we went back and forth about it a lot and now i feel obligated to share this with other people to see if they might agree with my headcanons

mari - for mari i feel like she's very much a cardigan girly, sundresses all the time, probably like sweetheart and square necklines on a lot of her shirts, and she consistently puts lots of time into her appearance, more so for her own pleasure than anything else. however if she doesnt get to change out of pajamas she'd probably get a little upset and feel unproductive as a result - idk she just seems very schedule oriented and i feel her clothing style and habits would match that. she 100% irons clothes, if somethings wrinkly shes not wearing it, and she'd lean into the academia aesthetic. she also gives summer vibes to me, but that might just be because the main canon images of her are during summertime - also lots of purples and yellows, purples her fav color and yellow is the complementary color, plus a color associated with bright light and summertime

hero - he'd probably have a more basic style of fashion, but still look very cute in it. like big sweatshirts, long coats, button ups, wide leg jeans, collared shirts, clean shoes, all in all a very clean look. he prob has some of mari's jackets in his closet that he wears pretty frequently. also he would always wear earrings BECAUSE I SAID SO I THINK ITS AWESOME he might also be a bit into academia fashion, but less over-the-top "i'm the top professor of this college" look and more just autumnal tones and mildly professional attire. also i feel like hero would iron some of kel's clothes if he noticed they were very wrinkled, which might result in hero running out of time to iron clothes for himself, in which he just switches his outfit last minute. this is hyperspecific but but but but but yes

kel - this man does not know fashion, all his tips are from hero, which hero got from mari. his wardrobe probably consists of graphic tees he found funny or pretty, hand-me-downs from hero, and plain shirts and jeans, probably with a couple rips in them from him being reckless. also he always wears some sort of brace, either on his arm or leg he is consistently getting hurt in some minor way /j dirty converses real!! also probably some pen/pencil marks on articles of clothing from getting bored and deciding to doodle randomly on them. also bracelets from random fundraisers or from crafts with the rest of the gang

aubrey - shes actually kinda hard for me to figure out, but i ffeel like aubrey would be wearing a lot of graphic tshirts and tank tops, but like those ones with extra detail yk the ones the grunge ones yeah those, and like huge cargo pants or wide leg jeans, chains hanging from pockets, necklaces and bracelets, and generally ripped things. so kinda punk but also still very fem and not very out there in terms of fashion styles . however this would only be half the time, this half is when she's really feeling like putting in effort to look nice, probably being like "im gonna be like mari today" and spending a good chunk of time putting together an outfit and such. the other half she's fucking done with it and throws on whatever shirt she can find and some pants, tosses her hair a little bit and throws on eyeliner and is out the door, somehow looking gorgeous still. like that effortlessly pretty look even when theres nothing outstanding abt the outfit

basil - grandma ass /j he probably thrifts constantly and the antique store is one of his fav places, so it seeps into how he dresses. lots of sweatshirts with intricate embroidered or sewn in designs, coats, lots of browns and greens, and very worn things. probably wears some traditionally feminine things he finds too jsut because he thought they were nice, again think grandmacore /j he's a very green and wiggly boy, lots of layers in his outfits, and is pretty rarely seen with short sleeve shirts. also collared shirts, messenger bags, pins, custom patches, and friendship bracelets. his clothing represents who he is and can tell a lot about him for the most part, basically story telling through what he wears since he has so many accessories that come from different places. also lots of floral patterns because he's he's the flower boy the little man the flower guy . in summary cottagecore mori kei esque things

sunny - his ass is not putting together outfits /j ok so i feel like sunny is the type to save his energy for other things, i feel like socializing might be a bit draining for him but he loves his friends, so he kind of switches up how he uses his energy to accommodate. but sometimes he'd probably wanna be like mari and put himself otgether, so he probably goes shopping with her and has cute clthes, his outfits just end up being very simple with a graphic tshirt and maybe an oversized jacket. HE ALWAYS WEARS SHORTS!!!! he dislikes the feel of pants and preferred shorts, even if he's cold. if he'd cold he just kinda balls up and puts a jacket around his legs. anyway i feel like he's probably being restricted a lot by his preferences (i hc he has autism and this is one of the ways it impacts him) so he's not the most fashionable person

OK THATS IT this took too long to write it took like maybe 30 minutes ummmmfehrhfweifu im obsessed with this game its taking over my every thought i needed to express this my brains going crazy bhhuu8ewifihbweifuweifok

[zadalamia]

hi this is french miku. annoying ass footballer primary schooler + serious traditional franche comté clothing

trad outfit details under the cut

ok so our region kinda sucks for interesting trad clothes especially comparing it to like nice and alsace (even our neighbouring savoie) but i tried to decorate anything that could be in theory.

first on the head, a coiffe, a kind of bonnet tied under the chin, which i made fancy by adding a lace pattern and small frilled edges. you'd have simpler ones for daily work

a caracot, sleeveless shirt ribbed like a corset, usually plain white and very tailored. opens at the front with small hooks(i emphasized them thats my bad). i added embroidery to the neckline as most people would

a pélèrine, crocheted semi-circular shawl (sometimes sewn from wool/silk). usually plain black but i made it blue. listen she has accessto cyan and magenta dyes we dont question it.

a large skirt, ankle-length. often colorful or decorated, especially with dots

a petticoat, often plain with a matching short apron, sometimes striped, to which i added lace edging. i like to imagine miku would own one for special occasions just like her coiffe

and a general detail: this costume is very much for the "peasantry", country-dwellers who farm and harvest every day, so miku would definitely be tanned and generally have a "farmer's complexion" on her face and arms.

not pictured, but mentioned on the page: girls miku's age would wear a charlotte, what's called a mobcap in english? idk look it up lol, but a. i forgor, and b. her hair's too big to fit in one anyway. maybe it's for lore reasons and she's independent, the oldest girl of the house, and wears a regular coiffe for status reasons

anyway thanx for reading this bit. im invested in my regions trad clothing especially since its very rare to find any info on it(and most ancient french things) anymore. https://alwati.com was super helpful for my research! theyre an association who specialize in ancient franche comté music, food, clothes, etc. :)

bye bye now x

[booksooks]

𝑳𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓: 𝑫𝒂𝒚 3.1

Author's Note: I'm so tired I'll edit this when I wake up. There will be a day 3 part 2. For now, please enjoy 💙

Contents: Nothing that needs a warning <3

Word Count: 2153

Summary: Entering your second year at college, only a few months after being broken up with, you weren't expecting anything special. Especially not in the romance department. But then a quiet, but friendly-enough boy on your floor catches your attention faster than you would like to admit. And oh, boy, are you in deep.

Thursday was more boring than you’d like to admit. You woke up early, despite your first class being only at 2pm, and you spent those hours mindlessly scrolling on your phone. And then you realized you didn’t know where your class was, so you scrambled to get your school’s brightspace open to find it. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you were able to find it; it was one of the rooms on the upper floor of the library. The rest of your free time was spent getting ready for said class, choosing an outfit and doing any other cosmetic needs, skincare and stuff. Music blared loudly from your phone as you got ready, hyping you up for the day as you danced around your small room. Hanami had left for her classes for the day, so you had the tiny space to yourself as Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry made you bounce on your feet and sing into your microphone (aka your lint roller). It was only mildly embarrassing behavior, and your door was locked, so you weren’t extremely concerned with anyone seeing you. 

After a few more minutes, however, you sighed and decided you couldn’t get away with putting off leaving any more. You slipped your shoes on and snatched up your backpack to head out the door, your music now playing through your earbuds. You had left earlier than you needed, because you wanted to grab a drink from the commons cafe before attending two classes, and you wouldn’t have enough time to get something between two said classes. So leaving early was the only solution. 

You didn’t want to brag, you thought to yourself as you made your way to class, but you looked pretty damn good today. Jean shorts with star patches sewn over the ass (which, while cute, were inconvenient because it meant no pockets), and a baggy green shirt, and black converse made up your outfit. Your hair was hairing to the max, and you just felt good in the way you looked, which didn’t happen often, so if you had a little more swagger in your step, sue you. Today would be good. 

You carried the sentiment with you all the way to the commons cafe, where the school had implemented an entirely unnecessary and complicated new system to ordering the food through GrubHub, for whatever reason. You sighed and ordered your drink, and the app notified you that it would be ready in… 13 minutes. “Jesus Christ,” you mumbled to yourself as you leaned against a wall. Next time you would just order before leaving your dorm. It wasn’t like there were even that many people in line ahead of you, only three according to the GrubHub app. You rolled your eyes and checked the time, anxious to be on time with the added thirteen minutes to your schedule. You would be, thankfully, and spent the rest of your time waiting just scrolling through your phone. 

How much time did you spend on your phone anyway? Probably too much, you decided, going back to the messages between yourself and Shigaraki and Toga in the group chat last night. You hadn’t even used it for its intended purpose of scheduling a study session, but you figured you could blame it on Toga - wait, no, you couldn’t. You had asked when a good time to study was in her private messages. Oh well, it gave you a chance to text Shigaraki without Toga’s prying eyes. You had seen the way she looked at your hand on his elbow yesterday, a flicker of mischief and something a little more devious sparking in her eyes. You had your suspicions that she had left you two behind on purpose, but she had only just met you, so what reason would she have to try and get the two of you alone? 

Then again, she did seem like the obsessive type, with her little comment about stabbing people. And it wasn’t like you minded, per se. Shigaraki was an attractive man, the more you thought about him. Or more accurately, he was your type. He was tall, and his arm had felt so solid and warm beneath your hand yesterday, muscles taut underneath your fingers. You swallowed down the saliva pooling in your mouth, because yeah that was enough of that train of thought. 

Your mind didn’t stray very far, however, because you remembered his eyes and how damn pretty they were. Deep-set and a bright, ruby red, they sparkled with a less-than-hidden ferocity in the shadows of his pale blue hair. It was more than a little intimidating, the intensity in his gaze and how he seemed to be able to take in any information and store it away for later, to be pored over when it’s convenient for him. All in a few seconds of eye contact. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed in your hand, indicating that your order was ready and oh shit did you think about Shigaraki Tomura for a whole 13 minutes straight? That certainly wasn’t concerning, nor was it something you would let yourself think about for any longer as you grabbed your drink and made your way to class. Macroeconomics, ugh. Microeconomics had been hell last semester, but unfortunately it was a requirement for business majors, and there you were, a business major, which… Sucked to suck. 

You sighed quietly and shook off any and all thoughts about sucking and Shigaraki, and sweet Mary molasses you should not have thought about those two words together in the same sentence. What was wrong with you today? You decided it could be a problem for later, as you pushed open the door and greeted the professor, a sweet looking middle-aged woman before you sat down. This would be a long class. 

You were right, the class had been incredibly long, and incredibly boring, and you had taken to counting ceiling tiles to even stay awake. But the class was over now, thankfully, and you hopped to your feet to go to your next and last class, which was a calculus course. Fuck calculus. You pulled up your phone to double check the classroom number, knowing that the building it was in was right across from the library. 

The classroom was empty when you got there, save for-

“Shigaraki, hey!” 

The man looked up from his computer as you said his name, bright red eyes glancing at your mostly bare legs before meeting your gaze. “Hi.” 

“Are you in this calculus class too? That’d be so cool if we had two classes together.” You exclaimed, sitting at a desk next to him. He nodded and typed something out on his computer before shutting it, giving you his full attention, which you appreciated. 

“Yeah.” 

You nodded thoughtfully, wanting to keep the conversation going but unsure where to pick it back up. “It’s kinda early though, I mean, I’m 15 minutes early and you were here before me. What class did you have before this one?” 

Shigaraki said something about a computer science class, bringing one of his hands up to scratch at the base of his neck, an area of skin that was normally hidden underneath his sweater. Your eyes zeroed in on that little patch of skin, now scratched red and raw, and you had to physically blink to realize that not only had Shigaraki answered your question, he had asked you one of his own. 

“Uh, sorry I zoned out,” you admitted sheepishly. “What was that?”

“I asked what class you had.” 

Oh, right. That made sense. “Macroeconomics,” you mumbled. “It’s so boring I almost fell asleep.” 

Shigaraki’s lips curved into a sly, quiet snicker. His expression was marked by a subtle twitch at one corner, pulling your attention to the small scar that lay over the edge of his lip. A mole rested just beneath the other corner, adding a touch of asymmetry to his face that was prettier than it should have been. As he smiled , and God help you it was adorable, the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “Falling asleep on the second day?” he mused, with a hint of mockery. “That’s no good.” 

Get a hold of yourself! You sang in your head. Where did his sudden, teasing confidence come from? 

You managed to smile sheepishly and avoided his gaze, shrugging. “Not my fault it’s a boring class.” 

Shigaraki had stopped pawing at his neck, instead tapping his fingers against his mouth and drawing your attention to it. His lips were cracked and dry, and looked to be honestly rather painful. “Can’t be that boring if you’re there.”

“W-What?” You chuckled softly, trying to figure out whether or not… was he flirting with you?

“You heard me,” he said, turning to face away from you and stare at the door. You blinked at him rapidly, and then shook your head. There was no way he was flirting. 

To distract yourself, you pulled out your phone and checked the time. 3:35pm. “Hm.”

“Hm?” Shigaraki parroted. 

“Hm, it’s five past and no one’s here yet,” you explained, pulling up the syllabus to double check you were in the right room, the right building. Yep. Room 221, Greens Hall. “Are we in the wrong room, do you think, or…?” 

Shigaraki frowned. “Could be.” 

You blinked at your phone, double and then triple checking your phone, just in case. But your eyes were not deceiving you. “Maybe everyone else is just late?” You asked hopefully. You knew it wasn’t true, there was no way no one else hadn’t trickled into class by now. 

“Let’s just,” you paused, “wait a few more minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

And so you did. Then a ‘few more minutes’ turned into ten, which turned into 15, and then 20. Not once had Shigaraki opened his computer back up. He had chosen to, instead, pull out his phone and fiddle around on it, and although you couldn’t see the screen you had to assume it was some sort of game by the way he held the device, thumbs poised over the edges of the screen. 

After 30 minutes of sitting in silence, you spoke up. “We’re definitely in the wrong room.” 

Shigaraki glanced up, briefly, and then looked back down at his phone. “How? We’re in the room that’s named on the syllabus.” 

“Iunno,” you mumbled, shrugging as you stood up and hoisting your backpack over your shoulders. “I’m gonna go back to my dorm and email the teacher from there. Wanna come with?” 

He nodded after a moment’s hesitation, sliding his stuff together and haphazardly shoving it all in his backpack. You watched, a little disturbed at the lack of organization, but didn’t comment because his backpack was already over his shoulder, and so was yours, and he was at the door quickly, holding it open for you. 

“Thanks,” you chirped, scooting past him and into the empty hallway. 

Shigaraki “mhm’d” in that soft, raspy voice of his, and soon enough his long legs were matching your stride. You both made your way out of the building in silence, trading off who opened doors for who automatically. You inhaled deeply when you got outside, the air cooler now that it was in the late afternoon, loving the feeling and the smell. 

The walk back to your dorm building was just as quiet, the both of you enjoying the sounds of other people walking or catching up with friends. Soon enough, however, you were on the little deer path that connected the academic part of campus to the living part of campus, where it was less chattery and was more welcoming to the cries of birds or squirrels barking. 

You broke that silence. “So uh, are you doing anything later?”

Shigaraki didn’t say anything for a moment. “No, don’t think so, why?” 

“Uh, well,” you started, hoping you didn’t sound as awkward as you felt. “I heard that they’re playing a movie on the front lawn of Briggs, and I wanted to go but I don’t wanna go alone.” 

You saw Shigaraki nod minutely in understanding. “What movie are they playing?” 

“I’m not sure,” you muttered. “An action movie, I’m pretty sure. I didn’t see though, on the flier. It starts at eight, though. If you want to come, no pressure.” 

You were rambling, God did you ever shut up? It was like you were determined to stick your foot in your mouth or make him uncomfortable. 

“Sure, I’ll be there.” 

“Oh, okay cool!” You said, your tone brighter than you had intended. 

The rest of the walk was quiet, and you said your ‘see you later’s in the hallway just in front of the staircase. It wasn’t until you were back in your room that you realized that, not only had you asked Shigaraki to go watch a movie with you, he had agreed. Oh joy.

End Notes: Thank you for reading <3!

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