#Glimpse Behind the Wall { Drabbles }

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time His Older Brother Gave Him A Tarot Reading”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, pure fluff, reader is not present, Sukuna is pining hard

Word Count: 1.26k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna isn’t one to make time for his family. Although he has an identical twin brother who bothers him far too much for his liking and an older half brother, he almost never talks about them and spends even less time talking too them. But today he was feeling nice… which is strange for him, but regardless, he decided to agree to come by his brothers’ apartment.

And was quickly reminded of why he never comes over.

Sukuna was seated on the antique couch while Choso kneeled in front of the coffee table between them, flickering candles on every surface bathing the living room in a soft warm glow and reflecting on the shiny surfaces of the crystals placed meticulously all over the table. Choso opened up a small black box, pulling intricately designed tarot cards from inside and fanning them between his fingers before spreading them face down across the table.

Sukuna really was trying not to roll his eyes at the whole ordeal, but the man can only take so much before he’s bound to cave, “This is so stupid.”

“Shh…” Choso leans forward and presses his finger over Sukuna’s lips.

“Don’t touch me.” He grumbles.

“Shut up,” Choso loses his calm demeanor for only a second before he’s closing his eyes again, “I’m focusing.”

“On what?”

“I’m tuning in…” He wiggles his fingers over the cards, “to the energies.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Sukuna rubs his temples, “When did you start doing this witchcraft shit again?”

“Not witchcraft,” Choso peeks one eye open to shoot a quick glare at his brother, “And yesterday.”

“Oh you’re a real professional huh?” He smirks down at him.

“Sukuna,” His shoulders slump and he lets out a frustrated huff, “Just, fucking shut up.”

The two of them squint as the lights suddenly flick on, Yuuji not quite getting the memo of what’s going on downstairs as he leans his head over the stair railing to peek into the living room, “Ooh, how’s the satanic ritual going?” He calls out from the stairway.

“Yuuji!” The two of them call out in unison. He lets out a little “Oops” and flicks the light back off, running back to his room upstairs.

Choso rubs his eyes, smudging his eyeliner onto his fingers, “Okay just, pick a card.”

Sukuna huffs out an annoyed breath, reaching forward and tapping his pointer finger on one of the cards in the middle. Choso slides the card down in front of Sukuna and flips it over, revealing an upside down picture of a man sitting upright in a bed with his head in his hands and swords neatly stacked on the wall behind him.

“Oh, interesting.” Choso mumbles.

“The fuck is he crying about?” Sukuna leans down and squints at the card on the table, “It’s upside down.”

“It’s reversed,” Choso clarifies, “The nine of swords reversed.”

“Choso, I don’t know what the hell that means.”

The long haired man sits up a little straighter, pointing at the card with a manicured finger, “This first card is your past. The next will be the present, and the last will be your future.” He picks the card up and scans it carefully, “You were… struggling, alone, not one to talk to others even when you need to-“

“What is this fuckin’ therapy?”

Choso groans and rolls his eyes, “God knows you need it, but no. Anyway,” He clears his throat, “You were in a downward spiral, but this is past tense, clearly you’re more open now considering,” He gestures vaguely around the room, “Well, you’re here for once.”

Sukuna is visibly annoyed, not a fan of being picked and prodded at. Choso places the card back down on the table, gesturing for Sukuna to pick another one, which to Choso’s surprise and for Sukuna’s morbid curiosity, he does; tapping his finger on a card pushed to the side of the table.

Choso flips the card over, and once again, it's upside down. It pictures a man sitting cross crossed in front of a tree, three golden goblets on the grass in front of him and a fourth being given to him from a disembodied hand floating next to him.

He’s really fuckin’ bad at organizing his cards.

Choso’s gaze flickers between Sukuna and the card, his brows furrowed in thought so clearly that you could almost see cogs turning behind his eyes, “Four of cups… reversed.”

“The hell does reversed mean?”

“It’s usually a negative version of the card’s meaning.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Oh fuckin’ lovely.”

Choso props his elbow onto the table, tracing the outline of the card with his finger, “You’re withdrawing-“

“Well yeah. No shit,” Sukuna cuts him off, “You’re telling me I’m cursed. What’s the damn card mean?”

“That is what the card means, idiot. You’re reluctant to open up to someone.”

Sukuna leans back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Choso shrugs, “Maybe the future card will clarify.”

“Absolutely not.” He huffs. Choso looks up at him with confusion, “I told you this was stupid, I’m not picking another.”

The light flicks on once again, Sukuna groans at the sound of Yuuji’s voice yelling from the stairway, “Sounds like someone’s a fucking pussy!”

“Yuuji, quit eavesdropping or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.”

The light flicks back off.

Choso looks up at Sukuna expectantly, and after glaring down at him for a moment he breaks, rolling his eyes and flipping over a random card, “If it’s upside down I swear to fucking god-“

“Oh shit!”

“What?” Sukuna sounds almost startled, looking down at the card he sees that this one is upright; picturing a naked man and woman standing in front of some kind of angel. But he’s quickly able to gather the most damning part of the card.

The bottom of the card says “The Lovers.”

“Oh fuck off.”

A smile spreads across Choso’s face, “I don’t think I need to explain this one to you. And it’s not upside down.”

“Reversed.” Sukuna mockingly clarifies.

“Shut up,” Choso leans forward, grin still plastered on his lips, “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody, this shit isn’t real.” Sukuna scowls, but deep down he’s glad the room is so dark to hide the tint in his cheeks.

It’s not fucking real idiot. Stop it.

“How about this,” Choso clasps his hands together, looking up towards the ceiling, “If this shit is real, give us a sign.”

Yuuji flickers the lights.

“No! Stop interfering, this is serious!” Choso yells out towards the stairway.

But Sukuna’s blood runs cold as his phone buzzes in his pocket, quiet enough that no one could hear, but he could feel it.

It’s not real.

The room is silent for a moment as Choso scans for any type of sign, but it’s as if the world had completely stopped turning, not even the candles were flickering. Choso plops his head onto the coffee table, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”

“Mhm.” Sukuna hums, putting up a disinterested front as he pulls his phone from his pocket, “Can we watch a movie or something now like a normal family?”

Choso defeatedly blows out the candles, collecting his crystals and placing his tarot cards neatly back into the box, “Fine, fine, but I still think it’s real.”

Sukuna’s heart nearly stops beating when he unlocks his phone and sees a text from you, “If u leave dirty dishes in the sink one more time I’m actually gonna kill u in your sleep.”

God I hope it’s fucking real.

A/N: Family bonding time has never been so awkward, anyway here’s that time Sukuna started to believe in magic, or witchcraft, or anything if it means you like him as much as he likes you. Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[wandasreallover]

ceo!wanda drabble|

Based on this photo ^

Title: Behind Closed Doors

The fluorescent lights of the office flickered like a stuttering heartbeat, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of stress. Today had been one of those days. You let out a heavy sigh as you walked through the doors of your apartment, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. Work had knocked the breath out of you—an impossible project deadline, an avalanche of demands from your boss, and the sharp criticism from a client who seemed to take pleasure in belittling your efforts. It felt as if the weight of the world was resting squarely on your shoulders, and it was a burden too heavy to bear alone.

You dropped your bag at the door, the sound echoing in the quiet space. The pent-up tension knotted in your chest; you were too drained to even think about making dinner. Instead, you decided to check in on Wanda, your partner and the indomitable CEO of Stark Financial. Her office was situated on the far side of the sleek, modern apartment you shared, a space that was usually filled with laughter, love, and warmth. Tonight, however, it was quiet, with only the muffled sound of typing breaking the stillness.

As you approached the door, you briefly hesitated. You didn't want to interrupt her again. The week had already been long, and you could see the stress lines etching deeper into her skin each day. Wanda was a force of nature—a cold, calculated leader in the office, yet behind closed doors, her warmth enveloped you like a comforting blanket. You admired her fiercely; still, a part of you felt like a distraction during her busy hours. So, you turned away.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” came a soft voice from the office.

You froze, caught in her web of concern. Wanda had a knack for sensing your presence, even when you thought you had managed to slip away unnoticed.

“I just thought I’d let you work,” you replied, trying to play it off. “You’re busy.”

“Not as busy as my heart when I’m waiting for you to get home,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Come here. I insist.”

You smiled despite yourself, nudging the door open and stepping inside her office. It was meticulously organized—a testament to Wanda’s precise mind. Papers were stacked neatly, and her laptop screen glowed with a kaleidoscope of spreadsheets and graphs. But as she looked up, her expression turned softer—an unguarded glimpse of the woman you adored.

“You look tired,” she remarked, concern furrowing her brow.

“I had a long day,” you admitted, sinking into the chair opposite her desk. “You know, same old stuff. I thought I would let you focus on your… empire.”

Wanda chuckled lightly. “I love my empire, but you are my home.”

The lump in your throat swelled. It was moments like this—where the walls of her icy exterior melted away with little gestures and word choices—that made you feel like you were the happiest person alive.

“I don’t want to take you away from your work, Wanda. I know how important it is to you,” you murmured, shifting in your seat.

“You could never take me away from what really matters,” she reassured. “And right now, that’s you.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond as you caught the glimmer of sincerity shining in her green eyes. After a moment of hesitation, you slid out of the chair and made your way over to her. You stood beside her, the rich scent of her lavender shampoo wafting toward you, grounding you in the midst of your chaotic thoughts.

Without warning, she reached out and took your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours and abruptly pulled you into her lap. “Stay here with me,” she said softly.

You exhaled sharply, feeling the warmth radiating off her, and leaned down, resting your head against her shoulder. She smelled like home—lavender and the faint, intoxicating hint of citrus from her favorite candle. The tension in your body began to unwind as you inhaled deeply, seeking comfort in her presence.

Time ticked by softly, the rhythmic clicking of her keyboard becoming a lullaby that wrapped around you. Her focus on work was unwavering, but you could sense her awareness of you—the way she shifted ever so slightly toward you, anchoring you in her space.

After a while, you felt your eyelids growing heavy. There was something soothing about being near her, something that made you forget the chaos of the day. As the day's exhaustion settled in your bones, you felt the warm tingle of sleep creeping up. You nestled in closer, finding solace against the soft, familiar curve of her neck, inhaling the warmth of her presence as you surrendered to the comfort.

Somewhere in the distance, the clicking of keys grew louder, faster—pulsing with unspoken pressure. But you were enveloped in Wanda’s warmth, and it was where you most wanted to be, despite the storm of her workload.

In a heartbeat, you fell asleep.

Hours passed like fleeting clouds on a lazy afternoon, and Wanda noticed the shift in your breathing—slow and steady, the tension of the day finally giving way to tranquility. She paused her work, grateful for the moment, yet worried about what had caused you such distress. The protective nature that so often emerged in her professional life flared up again, nudging her to gently brush your hair back and press her lips to your forehead.

“You're okay now,” she whispered, a soft promise meant only for you. She knew how hard it had been for you and felt her heart ache wishing she could take every burden from you.

With a weary sigh, Wanda returned to her work, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. Her thoughts drifted not toward spreadsheets but rather to you: how hard you worked, how tough your days could be, and how all she wanted was to be your rock in the storm.

[endlessthxxghts]

Lay Off The Flannels

DBF!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: 1.3k

Summary: Joel gets handsy while your father temporarily steps away.

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified - obviously a legal one though, hello??). No physical description of reader (pic above is used for aesthetic only!). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (F receiving). Using a flannel to clean up🫣... Awkward interactions with an oblivious father. Fluffy/light-hearted ending :). I think that's it! Let me know if otherwise!

Author's Note: Hey y'all! Soo my personal definition of a drabble is when something is written and posted on a whim, and that's exactly what I'm doing here.. This was only proof-read once by me, so if you see any typos and confusing wording... NO YA DIDN'T. Anyway, I have a bunch of WIPs needing to get done, but the stress was getting to me, so I took a break from those and wrote this fun little scenario to calm my mind and give me a good little laugh. I hope you guys enjoy!💚

MASTERLIST

“We shouldn’t be-”

“I know,” he says. 

“It’s too risky.”

“I know,” he says. 

You pull his lips back onto yours, breathing in each other’s breaths, consuming each other eagerly as if the world was going to end if you didn’t. 

His lips drag down to your jaw, to the sweet spots on your neck that make you mewl such addicting sounds he’ll never tire of, tasting the product of the hard work you did today with your father. His best friend.

His best friend, who- 

“He should be back any minute now,” you say breathily as Joel drops down to the ground, his knees cracking from the sudden change. 

Joel is desperate. Frantic, even. The speed he unbuttons and unzips your jeans and yanks them—underwear included—off of you has your hands flying to grasp at the edge of the workbench you’re sitting on. “Don’t care,” he says, inhaling in a breath, inhaling your arousal. “Need to fuckin’ taste you.” 

Your father’s car crapped out on him a few days ago, and being the untrustful man he was, he bought the parts that needed replacing to do it himself. He had you working on his car with him, teaching you what to do if you were ever stuck in a similar situation—”It ain’t worth the bill, takin’ it to them mechanics. It’ll cost ya an arm and a leg just for them to diagnose your car’s issue even if you tell ‘em ya know what’s wrong, never mind actually fixin’ it,” he said to you this morning. 

As soon as your father left, Joel was making his way to you, large strides cutting the time in half. His arms wrapped around your waist, picking you up from the seat you were situated on and lifted you to the bench against the wall behind you. His lips were on yours immediately, open-mouthed and needy. His hand slammed onto the black button beside your head, the garage door sliding down thereafter.

Joel grabbed onto your thighs, settling them onto his broad shoulders, stabling you and opening you up to him all in one. Wasting no time, his entire face dives into you, tongue immediately going to your sobbing entrance, hooked nose pushing directly onto your clit. 

“Fuck,” you gasp out loud, “Joel, oh my god,” your head hitting the wall, eyes rolling back. 

The moans you’re feeding Joel has him groaning into you, his hands tightening his grip on the bottom of your thighs, the dull ache of it an indicator that you’ll have bruises forming within the hour. 

His tongue—god, you love his tongue—always reaches places you never thought was possible, offering you a glimpse into Heaven each time he tastes you. The squelch of your pussy and his groans equivalent to that of an angel’s choir. You never want him to stop. Especially because his mouth is the closest to Heaven either of you will ever get. 

Your hole begins to flutter around his tongue, your slick pouring out of you at this point. You’re close. Joel knows it. His tongue leaves your hole and is quickly replaced by two of his fingers, sliding in with ease because of your level of arousal. His tongue meets your clit, licking and circling and absolutely worshiping it as if it’s the most unique of pearls to ever exist. 

The combination of his fingers and his tongue—plus his whimpers—are what do it for you. After a few more circles from his tongue, you’re cumming and you’re cumming hard, your liquids running down his wrist and soaking the rim of his sleeve. He gives one last suck to your clit before he lifts off of it, tilting his head up to watch you come undone, his fingers never pausing as he works you through your climax. 

“Baby,” you’re whining, reaching that point of oversensitivity with his fingers, but your hips betray you as they grind into his hand. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, gauging the contradictions of your body’s needs and wants. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, greedily sucking them into his mouth, not letting a drop of your liquid gold go to waste. 

He stands at full height again, his hands on your thighs to scoot you back from the edge, giving you more stability, so he can let go of you and take his flannel off so he can wipe you down with it. 

He sets his flannel beside you, reaching for your bottoms on the ground. He puts them back on you, gentle as ever, and guides you off the bench—albeit, on some wobbly legs. Once you’re breathing returns to semi-normal, you’re grabbing him by his t-shirt and pulling him in for a heady kiss. Your tongue breaches his mouth, and he lets you in selfishly, sucking on your tongue for anything more you can give him. You taste yourself on him, tangy with a hint of something that lights your neurons on fire, turning you on more even though he just pulled one of the most draining of orgasms out of you. 

Joel pulls away from you, and like clock work, the garage door is whirring open. Your father. He’s walking up the driveway with a Harbor Freight bag. 

“Got what you needed?” you immediately ask, trying to control the topic of conversation. 

“Yeah. Why’d you close the garage?” 

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before going back to normal. “The heat was getting a little much. Was gonna open it up when you got back,” you say. 

He nods his head, then looks to Joel. “Hey, bud,” he says as he sets his bag down, walking up to give his best friend a handshake. “What’re ya doin’ here?” he asks, “Not that ya need a reason, of course,” he adds quickly, a light chuckle leaves his mouth. 

“Just thought I’d swing by. Thought your girl here was workin’ on your car all by herself, was gonna make sure the damage was minimal,” he teases, looking at you with a wink. “But now you’re here,” Joel smiles. “I gotta take a leak anyhow, I’ll see y’all later, yeah?” Joel says as he makes his way to the end of your garage. 

Your father offers a quick yeah, his eyes zoning in on the flannel atop his workbench. Before you can stop him, your father grabs it. “Oh, Joel, don’t forget ya flannel,” he says waving it in the air as he lightly jogs to him before he gets too far. Joel’s face immediately flushes, as pale as if he’s seen a ghost, as he realizes what your father is holding. His eyes dart to you, your expression just as traumatized. 

“Oh, y-yeah,” Joel says as he quickly takes it in his grasp, “T-thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” he says as he begins walking back to you, stopping midway to turn back to Joel. “And Joel?” your dad yells out.

Joel turns around, reluctant. 

“Maybe lay off on the flannels during the summer, yeah?? That shit was soaked in sweat!” Your father says as his laugh grows to an uncontrollable level. 

Joel’s jaw drops to the floor as your face turns to absolute terror. 

“Dad!” you exclaim, absolutely stunned at his comment. “I’m done helping you for the day,” you say as you shake your head, gathering your things and heading inside.

Your dad’s laugh turns into a howl at your reaction, not realizing (thankfully) what’s got you so uncomfortable. 

As soon as you make it to your room, the entirety of the situation finally hits you, and you’re gasping for air at how hard you’re laughing. 

As you lay on your bed to try to calm yourself down, your phone rings. It’s Joel. Your laughter immediately starts back up again, and you answer, skipping all forms of introduction.

“Better lay off the flannels, Miller,” you say, barely able to keep it together by the end of your comment. 

“Shut up,” he says, stoic as ever.

A giggle erupts out of you, causing the biggest of butterflies to flutter all throughout his belly. “Can I come over later?” 

“I was expectin’ you to, darlin’.” 

End note: I'm sure there are a few fics out there with a premise similar to this, of reader doin some ✨things✨ with dbf!joel in reader’s dad’s garage 🫣 — I think it's pretty common given that Joel is a pretty laborious kinda guy, so if you've read anything similar, please share them in the comments or message me them! I'd love to read them and also give credit where credit is due. This fic fandom we've created is about spreading creativity, and that's exactly what I would like to do here. :)

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @teatree121 @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[seongwars]

fate bound | from forget me not

Pairing: king!Jeong Yunho x court lady!Reader AU: non-idol | historical au Summary: Realizing that Yunho's love, no matter how sincere, will never be enough to change your fate, you decide that you cannot spend your life waiting for a love that might never fully be yours. Word Count: 4.2K (I guess it's not really a drabble?) Warnings: angst/no comfort, mentions of death, poisoning, execution, political turmoil, history repeating itself, yunho is dumb in every lifetime

a/n: I was inspired to write this scene after watching the 'the red sleeve' but then cut it from forget me not because it was too long. I figured it faired better as a oneshot but wanted to share it with you all

Forget Me Not Masterlist

"Why do you refuse me?" Yunho’s voice was low, almost pleading, as his fingers gently toyed with a thick lock of your hair. 

You hummed softly, your gaze drifting out the window to the expanse beyond the palace walls. The night sky stretched on endlessly, stars twinkling with a freedom you could never claim. As you shuffled closer to him, your hand came to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. You wished, for just a moment, that things could be different—that you could wish for more. More of Yunho’s love, more of his time, more of a life that wasn’t bound by duty.

“I am a bird, Your Majesty," you finally murmured, your words measured. "I was born to roam the skies untethered. But if I stay with you, I will be caged.”

Yunho’s fingers stilled and you felt him tense beneath your hand, his breath hitching in his throat as the truth of your rejection created a rift neither of you had wanted to acknowledge. He tilted his head down, searching your face for answers, for a glimpse of hope as if willing you to reconsider.

"You wouldn’t be caged," he murmured, his hand sliding up to cup the delicate juncture of your jaw. His thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone, lingering with a tenderness that made you shiver. Yunho’s touch was so gentle, so familiar, yet it carried the weight of a man on the brink of losing everything.

"I would give you everything," he continued, "Anything you want, anything you could dream of—just stay." His eyes, dark and unwavering, locked onto yours, filled with a longing that was impossible to ignore. "By my side."

You shook your head, a bittersweet smile pulling at your lips. "I have no place in your world," you whispered, the words heavy with truth. "You are the king. You have a queen. And I am just another face of the court."

"I don’t care about the crown, or the court," he cut in, the conviction striking through his tender facade. “I care about you.”

The sincerity in his voice should have melted your heart, but instead, it only caused it to ache. You turned your head, refusing to meet his gaze, your eyes drifting toward the floor as if looking anywhere else.

"I care for you more than you’ll ever know, Yunho. But…”

Yunho stood frozen for a moment, the weight of your words sinking into him. His heart clenched, panic flickering behind his eyes as he reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing against your arm, desperate to stop you from pulling further away.

"You are asking me to be something I cannot be," you said quietly, your back still to him. "A concubine? I do not want to lead a lonely life as someone who will always live on the fringes of your court." 

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand linger on your skin, but the hesitation in his touch told you everything. He didn’t want you to leave, but his actions, his choices, had spoken louder than his words ever could. He was asking you to stay in a world where you would always be second, where you would live in the shadow of his crown, his duty, his queen. And no matter how much he said he cared, no matter how much he wanted you by his side, it would never be enough. You could never be enough—not for the life he led, not for the future he was bound to.

"I cannot spend the rest of my life waiting for a love that might never fully be mine."

⋆

You lay on the cold, hard ground of your prison cell, bruised and broken, your breath shallow in the suffocating silence. You had been framed. It was too perfect a plan, too flawlessly executed to be anything but a scheme crafted by another minister's family—one determined to weaken Yunho’s hold on the throne by any means necessary. Their daughter, they said, was meant to be a concubine, but their ambition reached far beyond that.

Poisoning the queen. Treason. The word itself had echoed through the court like a death sentence. There had been no time to protest, no chance to prove your innocence. The evidence, though fabricated, had been damning, too precise to be questioned. And just as quickly, the sentence had been passed: execution.

You think back to your life before all of this—before the accusations, before the cell. You had come from a family of scholars, where the value of knowledge had been instilled in you from a young age. Your father had risen through the ranks, earning King Minho’s favor with his intellect and wisdom, eventually becoming the Minister of Education. His rise to power had elevated your family, and with that came a life closely tied to the palace.

You spent countless hours within the palace walls, learning how to be a proper lady—a lady fit for court. But behind the formality, there had always been the occasional glimpse of something more. You often caught sight of the young prince, Yunho, moving through the halls with the carefree spirit of someone who had yet to feel the full weight of his royal duties. He was tall even then, always smiling, the future crown not yet a shadow over his life.

But those days felt like a distant dream now, lost to the chaos and schemes that had brought you to this prison. The innocence of the past seemed almost laughable, given how tangled your life had become in the politics of the court.

It started with whispers—soft enough at first to ignore. The Queen had fallen ill, but illness was not uncommon in a palace rife with stress and intrigue. You thought little of it at first, assuming it would pass as other ailments had. But then, the whispers grew louder. The Queen wasn’t recovering. Her condition worsened day by day, and soon, the court began to search for someone to blame.

You never imagined it would be you.

“This was found in your room,” Captain Song Mingi said, holding the small glass vial in his hand. His eyes—once kind, once familiar—were now filled with disgust. There was no mercy in them, only judgment.

You stared at the vial, your heart hammering in your chest, your mind racing. The color drained from your face as panic began to rise. You knew what it was. The poison that was now sitting in the hands of the guards, supposedly discovered in your room.

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head as the full weight of the accusation settled over you like a suffocating blanket. “No, I don’t know how that got there! I swear!”

Your words fell on deaf ears. The guards were already moving, pulling your arms behind your back with brutal efficiency. Your protests were swallowed by the indifferent air of the palace as they forced you to your knees.

“I haven’t done anything!” You were pleading now, your voice shaking as you reached for the captain, only for the guards to step forward, forcing your hands away. “Please, listen to me! Someone put it there!”

It was only then that you realized how thoroughly you had been framed. The poison had been planted in your room. Someone must have placed it there, slipping it in when you left to visit your family, weaving the web that would entangle you and leave you helpless. Someone had outplayed you without you even realizing there was a game.

Your thoughts spiraled as you were dragged through the palace corridors, the weight of the accusations crushing you. The same faces that had once smiled politely at you now averted their eyes, murmuring behind their hands. Some looked at you with pity, but most with thinly veiled disdain. You had gone from a respected lady of the court to a condemned woman in mere moments. The court, so fickle and cruel, had already made its judgment.

And then you saw him—Yunho.

"Your majesty!" you called out, your voice breaking. “Please!”

He stood at the far end of the corridor, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft light pouring in through the windows. His eyes were wide, filled with disbelief as he watched the guards drag you toward the dungeons. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and you silently begged him to say something, to stop this madness. But he didn’t.

His silence was louder than any accusation.

In that moment, you realized that the love you shared with Yunho—the bond that had once felt unshakable—meant nothing in the shadow of the crown. He had chosen his duty, the kingdom, over you. 

And in doing so, he had chosen to abandon the truth.

Crown Prince Yunho ascended the throne on a spring day, the warmth of the season at odds with the bitter chill weighing down his heart. His father, King Minho, had ruled for over three decades, a formidable monarch whose strength held the kingdom together through years of external threats and internal discord. But illness had claimed him in the end, slowly draining the life from the beloved ruler.

Now, as he sat on the same gilded throne that had once seemed so far from his reach, he realized that he had inherited more than just his father’s crown. He had inherited a kingdom tearing at the seams.

The court had been divided long before Yunho took the throne. His father had managed to keep the peace through sheer force of will, balancing the opposing factions with a mixture of diplomacy and coercion. 

However, as illness claimed him in his final years, that delicate balance began to crumble. His once-commanding presence was diminished by weakness, the voice that had once filled the grand hall now strained and frail. The nobles, sensing the king’s grip slipping, grew bolder. Whispers of unrest began to spread, and loyalties once firm started to waver. Minho’s iron rule, so effective in his prime, had become brittle, and the cracks in his reign were now visible to all.

By the time Yunho ascended the throne, the court was a fractured landscape of competing agendas, all vying for control of the new king. And they watched him now with eager eyes, waiting to see whether he would prove as strong as his father—or if he would stumble, providing them the opportunity to seize power for themselves.

When Yunho was fifteen, King Minho arranged his betrothal to Jang Mina, the daughter of the Minister of War, long before Yunho had any say in the matter. The engagement had been settled when Yunho was still a young prince, barely of age, and the weight of his future crown felt like a distant, far-off burden.

To King Minho, there was no better way to cement lasting peace than by binding his son to the general’s only daughter, ensuring that the most powerful military family in the kingdom remained loyal to the crown. 

As the crown prince, Yunho’s life was one of duty, each step already plotted long before he took it. And so, on the day of his twentieth name day, under the watchful gaze of the court and the kingdom, he wed Mina. The ceremony was a grand affair, a spectacle of wealth and power designed to solidify alliances and display the unity of the throne and the military. 

While Mina was everything the court could have hoped for in a future queen, their marriage had been built on necessity rather than love. Yunho had known Mina for years, but not in the way one might come to know a friend or a lover. Their relationship had been formal, shaped by their roles and the expectations placed upon them. Conversations were polite but distant, and though Mina was never unkind, there was an unspoken understanding between them—they were bound by duty, not affection.

⋆

“My lady,” Heesook’s voice broke the silence, shaking you from your thoughts. Your lady-in-waiting stood at the bars of your cell, her hood pulled low to hide the bruises on her face. Her hands reached through the iron, desperate to touch yours. You rose slowly and grasped her fingers, your own trembling slightly.

“Heesook,” you said softly, offering her a faint smile despite the heaviness in your chest. “I didn’t think they’d let you come.”

“I had to see you,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. Tears already welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her gaze flickered over your bruised face, the cuts and swelling a stark reminder of the violence you’d endured while captive. She clenched her fists as if trying to hold herself together, “I had to see you one last time.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, straining to give here a smile despite your swollen features from the endless torture by guards. 

Heesook choked on a sob, her grip tightening around your hands. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re innocent. None of this is your fault.”

You smiled sadly, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. They’ve already decided my fate.”

There was no escape from this. The court had condemned you, and soon, they would come for you. Yet, despite the fear deep inside you, there was something else—a strange sense of relief. No more fighting, no more struggling against the endless tirade of lies and deceit.

But as you stood there, clutching Heesook’s trembling hands, one thing still weighed heavy on your heart—one thing you couldn’t let go of, no matter how much you tried. The words you needed to say were caught in your throat, choking you, but you knew you had to speak them.

“I have no regrets,” you repeated softly, your voice faltering as you tried to convince yourself. “Except for one.”

Heesook looked up at you, her tear-filled eyes searching your face for an answer she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear. Her fingers tightened around yours, as if holding on could change what was to come. 

“What is it, my lady?” she sobbed. 

You hesitated, the truth weighing you down like the shackles around your ankle. The one thing you had clung to for so long, the one thing that had given you strength in the frenzy of court politics, the thing that had kept you alive through the betrayals and the lies—it was also the very thing that had destroyed you.

“His Majesty.”

Heesook’s tears spilled over, her sobs breaking the quiet stillness of the cell. “But you love him,” she cried, her voice cracking under the weight of her sorrow. “How can you regret that?”

You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against the iron bars. The memories of Yunho flooded your mind–memories before the crown, before the burden of duty weighed down his shoulders, before the court’s games had stolen him away from you. 

“He was everything to me,” you said quietly, your voice a fragile whisper in the air between you and Heesook. “And in the end, I was nothing to him.”

Heesook shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face as she clung to your hands, her sobs louder now, desperate. “That’s not true. He loves you. I know he does. I’ve seen it in his eyes.”

“Perhaps once, Heesook. Perhaps he did,” you said softly. “But love… love is not enough to compete against the crown. And I was selfish for asking for too much.”

You could see the hope crumbling in Heesook’s expression, her grip on you faltering as the reality of your words sank in.

“I’m ready to face whatever comes,” you sighed, pulling your hands away from hers, letting go of the last tether to the life you once fought so hard to hold onto. “And in my next life…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I wish to forget him. I hope my heart can be free.”

⋆

Shackled in heavy chains, you were marched through the bustling courtyard, every step echoing against the stone. The crowd gathered to witness your final moments, a sea of faces filled with judgment and fear. Whispers of "traitor" followed you like a dark cloud. But in your heart, you knew the truth: someone had framed you.

Yunho stood there, his face, usually so open and warm, now shut tight like a stone wall guarding his emotions. You wondered if he believed the accusations, or if, deep down, he knew the truth. But he had said nothing in your defense—not once. And that was what hurt the most—not the accusation, but his silence.

As you were forced to kneel before the executioner, your body remained steady—not from fear, but from a readiness that had settled deep within you. You had already lost everything: your name, your reputation, and soon, your life. But you were not afraid. You would not beg for mercy or forgiveness for a crime you did not commit. You would meet your end with dignity, knowing that the truth would one day come to light.

The crowd around you was restless, their voices a low hum of anticipation. You met Yunho’s gaze across the courtyard, searching for any flicker of the man you had once known, the one who had looked at you with tenderness, who had trusted you. But all you saw in his eyes was duty and distance, the warmth you had once shared now a cold, unyielding barrier.

You closed your eyes, the sound of the executioner’s blade grinding against the whetstone reverberating in your ears, each stroke sharpening the edge that would soon claim your life.

This was it. There would be no last-minute pardon, no miracle intervention. The court had made its decision, and you were to meet your end here, on this platform, due to a crime you never committed. You didn’t flinch. There was no point in pleading for mercy that would never come. The blade would fall, and it would all be over.

The executioner loomed before you, his shadow stretching long across the platform as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, each movement methodical, almost ritualistic, as though the act of taking a life had become second nature to him.

In one swift, practiced motion, the executioner brought the blade down. It sliced through the air with a chilling whistle, the sound sharp and final, like the severing of life itself. You braced for the cold bite of steel, for the end you knew was coming, your heart hammering in your chest. You could almost feel the edge of the blade as it drew closer, an inevitable end to your suffering.

But the end never came.

You gasped, heaving as your eyes snapped open, the terror of the dream still gripping you. You were disoriented as you shot upright, your heart racing as though you'd just escaped death itself. For a moment, the weight of the executioner’s presence still lingered, and it took a few rapid blinks to fully shake off the lingering nightmare.

Fumbling for your phone, you squinted as the screen lit up, the harsh glow revealing the time—2:52 AM. A sigh escaped your lips. You’d fallen asleep while studying again, your mind consumed by the pressure of your upcoming history exam. 

In the days following your execution, Yunho couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Mina had recovered, but there was a quiet unease that settled over the palace, a heaviness in the air that no one spoke of, but everyone felt. Whispers crept through the court like shadows, and though the formalities had been observed—the execution had been swift, justice had been served—the disquiet within Yunho only grew.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when Mingi stood before the king in his private quarters. 

“Your Majesty,” Mingi began, his voice steady despite the tension that thickened the air. There was no formal bow, no flourish of titles—just a direct approach. Yunho knew instantly that whatever his captain carried with him was more than routine palace matters. 

Mingi shifted slightly, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. "I bring news that bears great significance," he continued, never breaking eye contact.

"You may speak freely, Captain." Yunho’s tone, though calm, held a weight that pressed the moment deeper into somber territory.

“A confession has been made by a maid. She was caught trying to flee the city during a routine check,” he continued, each word deliberate, sharpening the already taut atmosphere. “Upon being questioned, she confessed that the Hwang’s had conspired to poison the queen and she was tasked to plant the poison in Lady Lee’s chambers."

Yunho's breath stilled in his chest. He knew well the Hwang family’s ambitions, their subtle rise through the ranks of court by exploiting every opportunity, every weak link. A lower noble class family, yes, but one with clear designs on rising further. They had sought his favor before, attempting to entwine themselves with his household, but never had he suspected their ambitions would stretch into something so dangerous.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger and grief brewed within him. He had always believed in justice, in the truth prevailing, but now he was faced with the stark reality that the court was a place of manipulation and schemes, where innocence could be twisted into guilt.

You had been dragged through the cold halls of the palace, your voice pleading, broken, as you called out for mercy. He had stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to stop the guards as they pulled you away. The pain in your eyes, the betrayal, the terror—it haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you pulled away, your voice cracking with desperation. And he had done nothing.

The last time Yunho had come to your chambers, it was a desperate attempt to hold on to you, to shield you from the dangers he knew lurked in the palace. Once again, he offered for you to become his concubine, the only way he could think to protect you. It wasn’t the future he wanted for you, but it was all he could give, even if you could never wear the crown of queen.

But you refused him, as you had before, your eyes filled with unwavering resolve. You were proud of your independence, too proud to become something lesser, to live in the shadows of the palace. You would not sacrifice your dignity to ensure his bloodline while he remained bound to another.

Could he have saved you from the hell that followed? The knowledge that you had died believing he had turned his back on you was unbearable. 

The court had demanded action, its eyes watching his every move, waiting to see if he would uphold the law or let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had always prided himself on being a just ruler, one who believed in fairness above all else, but this...this was something he could never have prepared for.

You had been accused of treason, framed by the very forces that lurked in the shadows of the palace. And despite everything inside him screaming that you were innocent, the court had brought forth "evidence," twisted and manipulated to cast you as the perfect culprit.

Yunho had to prove them wrong. He had to show the court and the entire kingdom that he was not above the law, that no one was beyond the reach of justice—not even someone he cared for as deeply as you. It was the hardest decision of his life, one that tore his soul apart, but in that moment, he had no choice.

So, he gave the order. He signed the decree, his hand shaking as the seal from his ink dried on the parchment that would seal your fate. 

“She was innocent… all along?” Yunho’s voice cracked, as if by saying it aloud he could force reality to change, to undo the horrible truth. His chest tightened, the weight of it suffocating, and his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Captain Song said, his voice steady but tinged with a sorrow Yunho couldn't stomach. 

Yunho’s body lurched forward as the enormity of the revelation hit him, tears already streaming down his face. A sob tore from his throat, low and strangled, as if all the pain he'd been holding back burst through at once. It was the sound of a man broken beyond repair.

He clutched his chest, gasping as if trying to pull the guilt, the anguish, the horror out of himself. He had killed you. He had chosen duty over you, over truth, and it had cost you your life.

Yunho leaned forward, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. It felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, shattered beyond repair. How could he ever forgive himself? 

"I'm sorry," he choked out between cries, though his words were swallowed by the emptiness that surrounded him. "I'm so... so sorry."

But the words were meaningless, swallowed by the void your absence left behind. He had condemned you, betrayed the love you shared, and now he would live with that burden for the rest of his life. 

The throne he sat upon felt cold and hollow, a constant reminder of the price he had paid for power. And as Yunho sobbed into his hands, the weight of the crown now felt unbearable.

[moonlight-prose]

11 with Poe? 🥺 💞

𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

a/n: this prompt with poe is so soft and warm it's actually melting my heart. i'm a massive sucker for someone taking care of the person they love in such a simple way like this. it's short and more of a drabble, but i really enjoyed bringing some softness to this man. i always seem to put him in angsty situations, so he deserves this.

summary: "he was with you. the person he longed to be around. who’s smile made him smile, and who’s laugh made him laugh. rather than looking for a quick escape, he found himself hoping that the mission would take even longer."

word count: 1k+

pairing: poe dameron x reader

warnings: not explicit, soft poe, flirting, fluffiness, poe dameron being hopelessly head over heels.

Squinting against the bright light of the sun, you traversed your way through the field, trying to catch up to the group ahead. It was a simple mission. Head out to a planet, find whoever was willing to trade shitty x-wing parts for something far better, and get back before dinner. Really it was more a quick vacation than anything else—a chance to get away from the chaos that your lives had become.

Poe shifted, checking to see exactly where you both had ended up in the hour you’d been walking. It’s not that you were lost. You were simply exploring. Or at least…that’s how Poe put it. You however had been keeping track of the different paths you’d taken, making sure to mark on your map where exactly you had to backtrack to get where you needed.

He sighed for the tenth time, scrubbing a hand down his face, his brows pulling together with frustration. It was clear that getting back to base before dinner wasn’t a possibility. Which meant you would have to find a place here amidst the greenery and gorgeous landscape.

You didn’t mind the idea much. However you couldn’t necessarily say the same for Poe.

“So where exactly are we?” you asked, trying to comprehend the bits and pieces of the foreign language. Growing up in the galaxy meant you knew more than your fair share, but sometimes it was hard to learn it all.

“Who the fuck knows,” he muttered, turning to look at yet another green hill. It looked identical to the last five you passed.

“It’s getting late.”

He nodded. “Think we can make it back to the ship tonight?”

There was a possibility of that happening if you turned back now, but you could see the sun begin its descent into the horizon, the day coming quickly to a close. The planet was known for housing less than lethal life forms, which made the idea of camping outside that much more appealing. You slept in a tiny bunk back at the base. Barely enough room to stretch out your legs before you hit the wall beside you—the open space around you felt like a damn gift compared to that.

“We should find a closed off area,” you suggested, remembering the many times you were forced to sleep outside whilst on a mission.

“Lead the way.”

He traipsed along behind you, eyes stuck to your surroundings in case of danger, and you didn’t do anything to interfere. You understood he wouldn’t feel safe sleeping on an unknown planet unless he was sure nothing bad was to happen. If he was alone he wouldn’t take precautions. But that was the difference. You stood beside him, untarnished by the tragedy of war. Beautiful like the summer flowers his mother used to pick on Yavin 4.

“The map says it shouldn’t be that much father,” you said in the hopes that it would offer some reprieve from how disappointing this whole mission was.

“That’s fine,” he mumbled, catching a glimpse of how the sunset enshrouded your face, creating a glow across you that nearly punched the breath from his lungs.

If he were with anyone else on this mission he would have been irritated. Beyond that probably. He could have seen himself trying to contact Leia from where you were, asking for a transport back, but he wasn’t with anyone else. He was with you. The person he longed to be around. Who’s smile made him smile, and who’s laugh made him laugh. Rather than looking for a quick escape, he found himself hoping that the mission would take even longer.

“I’m sorry about all this.” Poe felt his heart begin to sink, matching the movement of the sun. “I know it’s taking too much time. I swear I thought I read the map right.”

His pace faltered until he found himself stopping altogether, hand reaching for your arm to turn you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You sighed. “I just…I know how irritating all of this can be.”

“Sunshine—”

“And I know you have other important things to do for the Resistance.” You turned, running a hand across your forehead. “I could have asked Finn to come with me instead. Or anyone else. But I…I like…”

Poe stepped forward so quickly his boot nearly got caught on a small hole in the ground. “You like?”

Another long breath left you, eyes shifting up to finally catch him in your gaze. “I like your company.”

He felt the start of a smirk and tried to tamp it down, but there was no use. “My company huh?”

“Don’t get cocky flyboy. You’re not the worst person to be around.”

He was way past cocky at that point. Your words filled him with a warmth that sent his heart racing so hard it nearly stopped altogether. But you looked nervous. As if the words had been bottled up for so long you felt wary about heaven bringing them out into the open. You were unprepared for his smile, for his hand to reach out and pick a piece of grass out of your hair, only to use that to drag you even closer.

“I know I’m not,” he said softly, grunting when you lightly punched him in the chest. “Just been waiting for you to say it out loud.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass—” Tugging yourself away, you were ready to throw another meaningless curse at him, but Poe had solidified his plans long before you began to admit your feelings.

His lips caught yours in a kiss, effectively silencing you and stopping your movements. You felt a rush of dizziness go up to your head, a soft sound of contentment falling from your mouth into his. And Poe felt his entire being light up. Pulling you closer, he clutched at you tightly, hands sliding to your back and breath washing across your face.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” he breathed against your cheek, nose nudging against yours—waiting eagerly for you to smile and pulling him back into a searing kiss he longed to drown in.

[csainzsgirly]

OMG I CANT BELIEVE YOU ARE BACK!!! Can I ask a drabble with fwb Lando (specifically the shirt pictures taken while the summer break) just like he and reader are on holiday with friends but nobody knows what happens behind closed doors?

Hi girly I'm so sorry for seeing this so late but here ya go <3

A sigh rolled over your lips as you turned to your other side, the thin sheet getting caught between your legs. You had slept for maybe two hours, but it had been enough. The burn of your hurting muscles made you hum softly, reminding you of the way he had bent you over the balustrade of the balcony barely three hours ago, muttering pure filth in your ear. "They should know how wet your little pussy is for me, darlin'," which had made your knees buckle as you drenched his cock with another orgasm. You were sure his fingerprints were visible on the back of your thighs from how hard he held you down and spread open for him when he took you back inside, his other hand covering your mouth to prevent everyone from hearing you, no matter how much he liked it when you moaned his name while he dragged his fat cock through your soaking walls.

Lando was still sleeping, but the warmth that pooled in your lower abdomen and the slick that started to cover the inside of your panties were burning you up from the inside, and you couldn't resist sitting up to straddle him. It was unfair how he didn't allow you to mark him, his chest still a bare canvas beneath you. It was unfair how he had prevented you from biting your teeth into his abs, silencing your whine in dismay by pushing his cock past your lips and twisting his fingers in your hair to force you down on his length till you were a drooling, spluttering mess - the way he loved to see you, and the way you loved to be for him. Lando shivered as your nails tickled his chest, the material of the shirt you were wearing, his white button-up, scraping along his stomach when your lips reached his neck.

He peaked at you through one eye, a grin lazily curling the corners of his mouth. His eyes sparkled as he took you in, sitting so prettily atop of him, causing his cock to stir in his boxers. Perky tits were covered by the white material, the sheer see-through white giving him a glimpse of your pink nipples, which he had much rather in his mouth now he had another look of them. Without saying anything you reached into his boxers, freeing his cock from the tight material and shoving your panties aside to sink down on him. You were impossibly wet, and his mind was spinning at the thought that his cum was still in you after he emptied his balls in your pussy last night.

"Fuck," he said, his eyebrows furrowing together as he could barely comprehend that you felt so good even though he had been buried inside you a couple of hours ago. "Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, hmm, pretty?" Lando muttered, watching your tits bounce in his face as you found a rhythm that had your toes curling. Footsteps in the hallway made you hold your breath for a second, your pace slowing down as you looked at the door. Lando took the opportunity to hold you down on him as he started to rut into you, making you muffle your moan by pushing your face in his pillow. "I know it turns you on that anyone can walk in now, because nobody knows you're here," he continues, riling you up, making you even wetter. "Nobody knows how good I'm fucking you."

The arrogance in his tone made you want to roll your eyes, but it's impossible to resist as he buries his cock deeply inside you, filling you up, stuffing you full and your mind turns into a mess. You vaguely remember you and Lando were supposed to meet your friends downstairs in like an hour, but the only thing you wanted, craved, desired was the orgasm he was about to give you. One of his hands slipped between your slick bodies, rough pads of his fingertips circling around your clit and making you squeeze around him. "That's it, that's my good girl," he praised, sliding his cock in and nearly out your cunt in a firm, controlled pace that made you tremble. The hot ropes of his cum against your walls tipped you over the edge, sending you into a searing state of bliss.

[shomatoriashi]

6/29/24; 11:14pm

sylus x fem.reader (non mc)

{ drabble }

sylus was in the midst of taking a shower when you decided to (playfully) ambush him.

he was humming in the shower when you sneak into his room, seeing mephisto perched close to the master bathroom. the door remains ajar, and you caught a glimpse of sylus washing himself behind the foggy glass. placing a finger against your lips, you tell the mechanical bird to remain quiet as the crow gives you a quizzical expression with the tilt of its head.

you crept closer to the bathroom’s entrance, keeping your back pressed tightly against the wall as you did your best to remain out of his sights. giggles were felt bubbling against your throat, but you held back the urge, doing your best to remain as quiet as possible.

within just a few minutes, you hear sylus shut off the shower, his hums increasing in volume when you hear the gentle shifting of fabric the moment he steps out of the shower dressed only in a silk robe. his bare feet pads out of the bathroom, and as your footsteps tiptoe across the marble floors, ready to ambush him-

only to feel his hand automatically wrap themselves around your wrist, bringing you closer to him as you land unceremoniously against his chest. a knowing smirk graces his handsome features as you were left pouting at your failed attempt at surprising him.

“no fair; i thought i had you.”

his rich chuckles were all that you could hear when he leans down to whisper, “is that so?” amusement was heard in his tone as you tremble upon feeling his teeth lightly grazing at the shell of your ear, biting down against it before shoving you against one of the seats settled across his luxurious bedroom.

gasping at the sudden impact, sylus keeps both hands pressed against your shoulders, leaning down while showing you an almost wolfish grin before descending upon you. his teeth lightly gnashes against the side of your neck, giving you an almost ticklish sensation as you writhe and gasp beneath him. your laughter echoes throughout the room as sylus’s pleased hums were felt vibrating against your skin.

when the constant laughter caused by sylus and his gentle ministrations against your skin became too much to bear (making your sides hurt in response) he finally stops torturing you and takes you within his embrace, laying on the couch while allowing you to rest against his chest.

slowly, your laughter begins to die down when sylus brushes his lips against your hair, giving it a kiss as you let out a soft purr in response.

“you missed.”

sylus ends up quirking an eyebrow at you. “i beg your pardon?”

your giggling returns when you say once more, “i said, you missed.”

realization dawns within his rufescent eyes, murmuring a low “brat.” to you before leaning down to fully press a kiss against your awaiting lips, kissing you with a passion that conveys just how much you mean to him. with a soft moan escaping from your lips, you delve your fingers into his soft, damp hair, giving it a gentle pull while relishing in his soft groans of your name.

you will always have this man completely and utterly wrapped around your fingers-

and lucky for you, sylus didn’t mind one bit.

end notes: sylus still has a chokehold on me (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Blaster - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Twenty-Three of Pedrotober: Din Djarin Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Rating: The fluffiest fluff that ever did fluff.

Word Count: 1261

a/n: I actually really want a Loth-cat now, despite the fact that I already have three very real cats. I need more, obviously. Also writing this was wild for me because I got my start in writing by writing Star Wars fanfic, and...have since forgotten all proper terminology. Oh well. Also breaking some mando rules here but we don't care because we just want to see our man's face!

You heard it before you saw it, lurking somewhere in the house and waking you from slumber with the loud clang of something crashing in the kitchen. Din was out of bed in an instant, blaster already in hand as he rushed from your bed in the direction of the noise. Your first instinct is to check on Grogu, but you breathe a sigh of relief when you find him still peacefully sleeping in his hammock.

Another crash echoes down the hall, causing you to wince, but Grogu thankfully doesn't stir. When you make your way to the kitchen, you find your partner standing in the middle of the room, a grumpy expression written all over his face. There's a spattering of pans littering the floor around him, the obvious cause of the noise.

"I think it's a Loth-cat," Din explains, eyes still darting around the room trying to catch a glimpse of the creature. "Pretty sure it went behind the table."

You move toward the table in question, crouching down to look beneath the surface, to find what can only be described as the planet's most adorable Loth-cat. "Found it," you inform him with a hushed tone, trying your best not to scare the creature further. Bright beady eyes stare at you fearfully, but you coo at it, reaching out a cautious hand for it to sniff.

At first, the cat begins to inch toward you, but the second Din stops at your side, it backs closer to the wall. "It's gotta go," he reminds you, already aware of the thought lingering in the back of your mind. "It cannot stay here."

"Din," you look at him with indignation. "She's so cute though."

"I don't care if she's cute," he insists, already heading toward the storage room around the corner. You know he's gone to grab one of the many traps he has stored there, remnants of a life he no longer lives. "It's got to go."

You sigh, turning back to the cowering creature. She slowly works her way toward you again, less hesitant now that Din has left the room, sniffing at your outstretched hand. There's a flinch that runs through her body when you reach further to scratch along her massive ears, but then she relaxes at your careful touch.

When Din reappears with a cage in hand, you've already got the Loth-cat in your arms, more than content to accept the cuddles you willingly provide. "See, she's nice," you assert, a pleading tone to your voice that instantly makes him frown.

"We are not keeping the Loth-cat," he repeats, setting the cage on the table and opening the top. "Put her in."

Your eyes narrow, "and where do you think you're going to take her?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Away. Just far enough that she won't come back." You refuse to move for a moment, waiting for him to agree to the remainder of your silent request. He sighs, "and I'll make sure it's a nice area where she'll have plenty of food and water."

"And shelter," you add.

"And shelter."

"Dank farrik," Din mutters are you make your way around the side of the house. His voice is muffled by his helmet, worn whenever he's outside in an abundance of caution, even if he's already broken the creed for you, but it only takes a second for you to determine the cause of his frustration.

The Loth-cat is back.

While you and your partner worked on the exterior of your small home, Grogu had taken to playing in the yard, doing his best to stack rocks into towers using the force, which he'd then promptly knock over before beginning again. Now, however, he was strictly focused on moving the small rocks around while the familiar creature chased them across the dirt.

"She's back!" you exclaim, setting down the equipment box you'd been carrying. "How far did you take her last night?"

"Not far enough, obviously," Din mutters, heading toward the speeder where the crate still sits. You move closer to Grogu, quickly scooping up the cat in your arms. She wrestles with you until she realizes who has captured her, promptly settling into your embrace with a soft purring noise.

Grogu watches with curiosity, reaching one of his tiny hands out toward her. You drop to the ground next to him, crossing your legs underneath you as you teach him how to gently pet her fluffy, spotted ears the way you've already determined she loves. "Careful, Grogu. We want to be gentle."

He shies back when the Loth-cat makes a grumbling noise, directed not at Grogu, but at Din, who has reappeared with the cage in hand. "Come on, put her back in."

"Din, she obviously found her way back to us for a reason," you point out, determination beginning to set into your shoulders. "Plus, I think it would be good for Grogu."

You can't see his expression, hidden by his helmet, but you know his eyes are rolling. "In the crate, now," he instructs again.

"You're really going to make me put her in there?"

His nod is almost imperceptible, but another moment of silent understanding passes between you, and you let Grogu pet the cat once more before carefully placing her behind the wire of the cage. "Food and water," you insist once more, closing the gate as you stare at the man you love.

"And shelter," he repeats back, loading the cat into the speeder as you hoist Grogu into your arms, the two of you waving goodbye until the dust settles around you.

"No."

"Oh come on. This is the third time she's shown up here, Din. And just look at them." You point at the way Grogu is curled up with the Loth-cat in his hammock. How they both managed to fit in there, you're unsure, but stranger things have certainly happened in your lives. "I think she's meant to be here, with us."

Your partner retreats from Grogu's room and moves to sit on the edge of your bed. "That or she just wants our food."

You tilt your head in agreement as you sway closer to him, standing between his spread legs to rest your arms across his shoulders. "Perhaps. But she obviously makes Grogu happy. And she makes me happy, and I think she'd make you happy too if you just let her."

"It's a Loth-cat." He's unimpressed by your reasoning. "One that clearly doesn't know how to stay away."

"Can you blame her? I couldn't stay away either," you point out, cupping his face in your hands to ensure he's listening.

Din shakes his head. "That's different. You're not a cat."

"I think I can be a lot more cat-like than you think," you challenge before climbing onto his lap, curling around him, and kneading your fingers into his back. He's laughing before you know it, and as he falls back against the bed, taking you with him, it's already obvious that you've won the argument.

"I'm not going to be the one feeding her or brushing her or cleaning up her fur, got it?"

You nod, kissing him on the cheek as he rolls you onto your back. "Got it. Only ask you to feed her and brush her and clean up her fur."

He rolls his eyes for you to see this time, but kisses you anyway, and if you happen to find little Blaster curled up in his lap more often than not, you don't say anything about it.

[merbear25]

Reaching out

There have been little things he's been doing to make you wonder if everything is alright with him. You want to let him know you're there for him in a way he'll understand.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, headcanons (love languages) + drabbles,

Mihawk, Corazon, Law

Mihawk: Love languages: quality time and acts of service. He knows that actions speak louder than words ever could. Showing him that you care by taking notice in subtlety and finding ways to lighten the load which is weighing on him goes a long way. He'd enjoy doing certain activities together, but sometimes prefers just being near you and quietly doing something seperately.

The wind was still, leaving a sense of discomfort as the muggy air thickened across the grounds. Creeping across the lake and through the trees, you could hardly bear to stand outside in the sweltering heat for much longer. Waiting on him wasn't the issue; it was his unsual tardiness. You wouldn't have thought anything of it if it had been a half hour to an hour over the time you were expecting him, but it'd already been three.

You rationalized why he'd be held up, yet that didn't ease your troubled thoughts. Pacing along the entryway, you see him approaching in the distance. Despite having faith that the world's greatest swordsman would return unscathed, the relief you felt at that moment was immeasurable.

Stood by the door, you were itching to ask him what had happened. However, when his eyes fell on you, apathy was brewing behind them, signalling to you not to impose your burning questions on him.

There had been quite a few times you received that look from him. The two of you had come to an understanding about how to maneuver through any outside stress―letting each other process and coming back to it when you were ready.

Respecting this, you watched him march out to the ruins behind the castle. In spite of the climbing heat index, he pushed through it to drill new techniques.

The sweat was trickling down his temples; the shine appearing on his skin was noticeable even from where you were standing within the kitchen. Gathering a bottle of water and a book, you went out to join him―simply holding a desire to be near him.

He remained focused while you approached the area, as well as when you sat yourself down on a turned over pillar cracking open your book. Putting a pin in his practice, he turned to you still refraining from speaking. You returned his gaze and offered him the water you'd brought.

"It's blistering hot out. Thought you might be thirsty."

Accepting your thoughtful gesture, he took a seat next to you. After a few more moments in silence, he felt ready to talk about what happened earlier. Telling you calmly about what was on his mind, you held on to each word―being sure to listen attentively.

Corazon: Love languages: physical touch and words of affirmation. He'd adore hugging and cuddling with those closest to him; He'd want them to feel comforted and safe when they're with him, letting them pour their hearts out if that was what they needed. Compliments and kind words: he'd love to see your face light up from them, knowing that he'd made you smile would make his day.

Dawn was just beginning to peek through the curtains, allowing rays of sun to dance upon the floorboards and walls. With your room being illuminated by them, they acted as a natural alarm clock, giving you no choice but to get an early start to your day.

Stummbling out of your room, you stretched your arms as you yawned away the remnants of last night's dreams. You caught a glimpse of Rosinante down the hall followed by some commotion from his study.

Knocking first, you were permitted entry. He was rummaging through the papers on his desk and in the drawers. Upon asking what he was looking for, he gave a simple, "Don't worry about it," as an answer.

Despite his nonchalance, you were quick to assume that he was lying―trying to keep something from you to protect you perhaps. "Is it the same thing you were looking for the other day?"

With a huff, he confirmed, "But it isn't here either."

"Let me help you then," you offered, stepping further into the room.

"That won't be necessary," his abruptness took you aback.

The absence of warmth in his voice was troubling, though you didn't want to pry. He'll come around when he's ready, you thought to yourself as you inched your way out of the room, hoping that time would come rather quickly.

Those glistening trails of light were now fading with the day, allowing the shadows of night to replace them. Rosinante maintained his secrecy, which kept you at a distance. To prevent overstepping, you gave him the space he needed to complete whatever task he'd set out to accomplish.

Your encounter in his study had long since passed and you still hadn't heard so much as a peep from him. By now, he would've at least come over to chit chat, even if it wasn't about anything pressing. Him being uncharacteristically somber for this long was causing you to worry.

Searching for him through out the premises, you found him at the desk in his room. He was slumped over his journal, which was still open to the entry he'd been writing. Tenderly looking down at the wearied man, you fetched a blanket to drape over him.

His breaths grew shallower at its added weight, and while seeing how much he'd worn himself out due to the stress of his mystery assignment, you bent down to hug him being mindful not to wake the gentle giant.

When releasing the gesture of companionship, he caught your hand, holding it firmly. Caressing it with his other one, he made a gentle request, "Could you stay with me a bit longer?"

Wholeheartedly agreeing to this, you add, "I'll always be here for you."

Law: Love languages: acts of service (gift giving to an extent) and words of affirmation. He understands he's not the greatest at expressing his feelings, which is why he'd rather show you that he cares. That being said, if you do a good job at something he won't ignore your hard work. Even though giving him compliments or praise in any way would make him flustered, he wouldn't hate it―he'd probably like it.

The Polar Tang felt colder than usual. Thinking back, you noticed that Law hadn't been around much: not coming to eat with the others at mealtimes, choosing to spend more time alone, withdrawing into his study. Long days and nights at sea were making his absence more apparent.

You didn't want to push him, though you couldn't help feeling worried about his current behaviors―spending this much time alone wouldn't be healthy for anyone, especially one whose mind tended to wander to darker depths.

After fetching a serving of that night's supper, you knocked on his door. Law grumbled a, "Come in."

Upon seeing the captain in his sleep deprived state, your heart sank. You didn't know the reason, and you refrained from prying, but wanting to help him was something you couldn't just ignore.

Looking at the state of his desk, it could be deduced that he hadn't been taking care of his basic needs; the devotion he had to what he'd been working on was consuming him.

Placing the food on a cleared space, you informed him that the meal was nice and hot for him. You went out quickly to grab a glass of water for him, as well. "In case you're thirsty," you added, smiling at him.

He kept his thanks short, making you shift your weight. Only wanting to let him know how much he meant to you, and to everyone else, you told him, "We're so lucky to have such a dedicated captain. Others could only dream of being on a crew like this."

Placing his pen down, he still had yet to look up at you. Feeling like you were overstaying your welcome, you told him you hoped he enjoyed his meal, gently closing the door behind you.

You figured if he ever wanted to reach out to any of you, he'd do it when he was ready, but you still wished to help him understand that he had people who adored him.

Later that night, he came to find you. With him, he brought something small. Stopping in front of you, he handed it to you, "I forgot to give this to you sooner."

Accepting it, you saw that it was one of types of chocolate you'd been raving about. Asking what the occasion was, he simply responded, "You said it was something you liked."

[waratah-moon]

Gremlin

Four times Dustin was clueless, and the one time Lucas spelled it out for him. Shout out to @lfaewrites for proofreading & encouragement!

masterlist / read on ao3 < bonus smutty drabble posted there ;) I Think We’re Alone Now < smut add on

Pairing: dad!Eddie x mom!reader

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Teen pregnancy (not elaborated on), cheerleader!reader, shitty parents, enemies to friends platonic!steddie Steal my writing and I will hex you

1. Eddie’s trailer

Eddie opened the door of his trailer and was very surprised to see Dustin Henderson on his doorstep.

Dustin didn't wait to be invited inside, pushing past a bewildered Eddie, “do you have my book report? I lost it after the last Hellfire meeting and I really don't want to rewrite it."

He'd never been inside Eddie's trailer before. It was slightly cluttered but in a homey-lived-in kind of way. The walls were lined with baseball caps, and a collection of novelty mugs hung above the couch.

“What, no hello? You need to work on your manners, Henderson.”

“Sorry,” Dustin looked around the living room, taking in an array of stuffed animals on one end of the couch and a pile of picture books on the coffee table. He wasn’t about to judge what Eddie Munson did in his spare time. “Nice place. Do you have my book report?”

"The one on Grapes of Wrath? I wondered who that belonged to. Let me find it," Eddie disappeared into what Dustin could only assume was his bedroom.

Dustin looked around the trailer, eyes landing on a couple of baby photos that he guessed were of Eddie. He stepped forward to get a closer look, but stopped when he felt something under his foot; it was a small toy that looked a lot like the Muppet Babies version of Fozzie Bear. Before he could investigate further, the phone rang.

Eddie came racing out of his room and breathlessly answered the phone. "Hello?" He waited for the person on the other end to respond, a smile crossing his face when they answered. “I mean, maybe. How difficult is it?” Eddie was grinning now and Dustin could swear he was twirling the phone cord like a teenage girl. “I think I can manage that. How did Gremlin do?”

Eddie's smile turned to a soft pout. He spotted Dustin out of the corner of his eye and turned away,  “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Dustin heard him mumble something into the receiver, but couldn't quite make out the words.

Once Eddie hung up the phone he walked into the kitchen and began fiddling with the knobs on the oven.

“Eddie?” Dustin raised his eyebrows as Eddie pulled a casserole dish out of the freezer and put it on the bench.

“Oh, shit. Your thing. Right. I think I know where it is. It got mixed up with the one shot we did last week,” he disappeared again, and Dustin thought he could see a glimpse of a floral patterned bedspread through the door of his room.

Eddie reappeared and handed him a few pieces of paper. "Thanks, man.” Dustin looked at the casserole dish on the bench. “So what’s for dinner?”

Suddenly, Eddie was herding him out of the trailer, “as much as I’d love for you to stay, I have a hot date.”

2. Family Video

Dustin was sitting behind the counter at family video, something Keith had adamantly stated was not allowed. Steve was the only one working, and he didn't care what Dustin did, just happy to have company during the slow part of his shift. Dustin had brought takeout from the diner up the road, only offering to share his fries when Steve had complained. "C'mon, dude, it's gonna stink of fast food in here."

The door jingled and Steve absentmindedly began his ‘welcome to Family Video’ spiel while twisting a Rubik’s cube, only stopping when he looked up at the woman who’d arrived at the counter.

“Real customer-focused service you’ve got here,” you smiled, hoisting the toddler you were holding higher up on your hip.

“Oh hey!” Steve grinned, ducking down so he was on eye level with the little girl, “how’s my favourite Cabbage Patch Kid doing?”

Cabbage Patch Kid? Dustin thought, pushing his food aside to watch the interaction.

The little girl smiled shyly, hiding her head of dark brown curls into the crook of your neck. 

You sighed, “Steve, I’ve told you before, stop insinuating my child looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

“But she has the dimples,” he stood up straighter, poking his tongue out when the little girl showed her face, causing her to emit the world's cutest giggle.

“She gets those from her father, not Coleco,” you kissed your daughter's cheek, smoothing down her unruly hair. “Did Care Bears come in?”

“Sure did,” Steve pulled a tape from the counter below, scanning it.

“Great!” You looked around the store, eyes landing back on Steve. “Can you watch her for a sec while I grab a couple more?”

“‘Course!” Dustin watched as Steve held out his arms and you passed the toddler to him. The little girl’s hands instantly reached to pull for his hair while you darted off to the horror section.

“Not the hair,” Steve groaned, attempting to tilt his head backwards and away from the prying hands.

“Pretty,” the little girl mumbled, tugging a lock of Steve’s hair. Dustin stifled a laugh.

“Me? Why thank you, I think you’re very pretty too, the prettiest little Cabbage Patch Kid around,” he bumped his nose against the toddler’s, kissing her forehead. Dustin gagged. 

The scene was adorable, but it went against everything he thought he knew about Steve Harrington.

You'd found what you were looking for and arrived back at the counter, setting down two more tapes; A Nightmare on Elm Street and Splash.

“Interesting double feature,” Steve remarked, the toddler now clutching her arms tightly around his neck, refusing to let go.

“Date night,” you grinned sheepishly, holding out your arms to collect your daughter. Steve attempted to pry her off his neck, but she was clinging on for dear life.

"Seevie stay," she whined, tightening her grip on the man.

Steve scanned the tapes using his free hand, seemingly unfazed. “Oh, did you hear about Ethan Carroway?”

You dug around in your purse, finding the correct amount of money to pay for the tapes, “and Ivy Tech? I know! How dumb can you be?” You handed over cash.

“I mean, he seemed like the type though, right?” He put the tapes in a plastic bag, a bit of a challenge with only one hand but he managed, handing the bag across the counter to you.

You hummed in agreement. “Some people just don’t change. Others surprise you,” you smiled, taking in the sight of 'King Steve' Harrington pulling faces at your two year old. "C'mon Gremlin, let's get home and see if Dad taped Muppet Babies."

"Aminal?" Your daughter loosened her grip on Steve and looked at you.

"Yep," you held out your arms and she finally let Steve pass her back. You smiled at the man behind the counter. “Thanks Steve, I’ll see you later.”

"See ya," Steve called after you as you exited the store.

Dustin was gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open as he watched Steve go back to fiddling with the Rubik's cube on the counter.

"What the hell was that?" Steve jumped when Dustin spoke, seeming to have forgotten about the young teen's presence.

He managed to keep his cool, nonchalant tone, "what was what?"

"Were you just flirting with her?"

"What?!" Steve sounded offended. "With her? Of course not."

"She has a kid, Steve."

"I know," Steve had turned to look at Dustin now, leaning with his back against the register. "She has a boyfriend too. We went to high school together. She was a cheerleader, I was on the basketball team. We're friends."

"I didn't know you had other friends," Dustin cocked his eyebrow with a grin. He vaguely remembered his mom gossiping with Mrs. Wheeler about a cheerleader who got pregnant a few years ago.

Steve rolled his eyes, turning back to face the front door, "and you don't know as much about your friends as you think you do, Henderson."

Dustin frowned, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Eat your burger."

3. Max’s trailer

Storm clouds hung over Hawkins, and rain had been attempting to sprinkle all morning. Riding their bikes all the way to the Forest Hill Trailer Park probably wasn't the smartest idea, but it was Dustin and Lucas's only mode of transport since Steve decided to pick up more shifts at Family Video.

They pulled up to Max’s trailer, the wheels of their bikes spitting up gravel as they skidded to a halt. Max had watched them ride up from the window, and she was already standing in the doorway when they reached the porch.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We were wondering if you wanted to see a movie, or go to the arcade," Lucas asked, he always sounded nervous talking to Max.

"Or do anything," Dustin added. "We're so bored." It was true. Mike was on his weekly phone call to El, and since the mall had burnt down the activities in Hawkins had become severely limited.

“I can’t," she had her headphones slung around the base of her neck, her trusty Walkman in her hand. "I’m babysitting.”

"Babysitting? Since when do you babysit?" Dustin peered over her shoulder inside the trailer, but Max moved to block his view. Over her shoulder he could see an animated movie playing on the TV, it looked like the Care Bears.

“Since we moved in here,” she shrugged.

“Huh?”

"I like her parents, they're cool, so I offered to look after Gremlin whenever they wanted some alone time. Plus her mom always brings over cookies. This time it’s peanut butter chocolate."

"You offered?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" She squinted, her tone accusatory.

"Kind of, yeah," Dustin said, groaning when Lucas elbowed him in the ribcage.

“What Dustin means is that you seem to have other interests that don’t coincide with babysitting.”

Max rolled her eyes, moving to put her headphones back on.

“Wait! Can we at least come in and hang out?”

“Nope. I’ve got other interests that don’t coincide with hanging out,” her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she shut the door in their faces.

Lucas sighed, but Dustin was already making his way to the trailer opposite Max’s.

“What are you doing?” Lucas watched, before quickly following after his friend.

“Eddie’s home, his van is out front.”

“And there's another car next to it, he has someone over," Lucas added, pointing at the red Ford Fairmont parked next to the van.

But Dustin was already knocking on the trailer door to listen to Lucas.

The door swung open, revealing a flushed and wild haired Eddie. His eyes were dark, and his tee-shirt was on inside out; when he took in that it was Dustin at the door, his expression turned from annoyed to pissed.

"Henderson? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"We were in the area," he started, turning to see that Lucas had not joined him on the porch but had stopped halfway between Eddie and Max's trailer. He continued, "do you want to hang out?"

"I'm a bit busy right now, dude," Eddie folded his arms across his chest, still glaring at Dustin.

"Do you have a girl over?" Dustin tried to peer into the trailer but only managed to spot a bowl of popcorn and a couple of VHS tapes on the coffee table.

Eddie rolled his eyes, "sure let's go with that. Are we done here?" He started to shut the door, but Dustin stuck his arm out.

"Wait! Who is it? Is it Shelley Keibler? She was totally flirting with you at lunch last week."

Eddie looked disgusted, "ugh, no, dude. She buys from me and she was flirting to get a discount; which I didn't give her, by the way."

"Then who?"

"Don't worry about it, Henderson. I’ll see you on Monday." He grinned and shut the door.

4. Hawkins High

Dustin thought Eddie was acting strange. He hadn’t said anything about Dustin’s ill timed visit when he saw him on Monday, and he hadn’t been in the cafeteria at lunch on Tuesday or Wednesday. Mike had sworn he’d seen Eddie in the library when he’d gone to get money off his sister. He seemed back to his old loud, rambunctious self on Thursday, but during Hellfire on Friday he was constantly watching the clock. When the clock struck 6pm, he was packing up, even though they were in the middle of a high tension fight.

“I’m sorry guys, I have places to be.”

“Where?”

“Oh, that little bar on the corner of nunya and business,” he grinned, stuffing his binders in his bag.

Dustin followed him out to the parking lot, expecting to watch him get in his van and drive off. Instead he was greeted with the same red Fairmont coupe that had been parked in front of his trailer. 

The following week proceeded much the same as the week prior, except this week Eddie cancelled Hellfire. And Eddie never cancelled Hellfire. The table erupted in disgruntled yelling when he broke the news over lunch on Friday, but he just sat back in silence, letting the members spit their disdain.

Dustin finally got a chance to speak with Eddie after school was let out, catching up to him in the parking lot as he was leaving.

“What’s going on? Why are you suddenly acting all weird?”

Eddie sighed, looking over at the red Ford that was parked next to Steve’s BMW. “You do know I have a life outside high school and Hellfire, right? I don’t only exist to further your quest, Henderson.”

“I know that-”

“I’ve been busy, alright? I’ve got some stuff going on.” He studied Dustin’s face, as if he was trying to figure out damage caused by a d20. “Look there’s a one shot I’ve been working on,” he grabbed a notebook out of his bag, ripped out a page, and scribbled something down before handing it to Dustin. “Come to this address tomorrow night, 7pm. Bring Wheeler and Sinclair.”

+1. Hellfire Club

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas weren’t sure where they were going, but surprisingly Steve did. In fact Steve hadn’t put up any kind of fight when Dustin asked if he could drive them somewhere for DnD. Sure he’d sighed, but that sigh was quickly followed by a shrug and a “sure.”

Steve pulled up in front of a small one story house, parking his car behind Gareth’s. Two cars were already in the driveway, a two-toned station wagon, and the red Ford Fairmont that seemed to be everywhere.

Eddie swung the door open, a grin on his face. “You’re here!” He glanced over the boys in front of him before his eyes landed on Steve. “Harrington?”

Steve held his hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m just dropping them off. Thought I’d say hi.” He pointed to the station wagon in the driveway. “Is that your new car?” Eddie nodded and Steve added, “a wagon. Very sensible.”

“I’ll have you know that’s a ‘74 AMC Matador. It has a V8 401 engine, 230 horsepower-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, I have no idea what any of that means.”

“You drive an E23. Dude, a 733i!”

“Doesn’t mean I know anything about it,” Steve shrugged. “Finally traded in the van for a family car, hey?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned into the house. “Babe, Harrington’s here,” he called out, before turning back to glare at Steve.

After a moment, you appeared behind Eddie, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Steve, hey!” Dustin recognised you instantly as the woman from Family Video.

“Hey,” Steve smiled, giving you a little wave. “Wanted to see your new place.”

“Can you stay for a soda? I’ll give you the tour.”

Before Steve could move into the house, Dustin held his arm out to stop him. “Uh,” Dustin looked from you, to Steve, to Eddie, and finally to Mike and Lucas. “What’s going on?”

“Oh right! You guys haven’t met,” Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side, and introduced you to the teens. “This is my girlfriend.”

Once the shock had worn off, Eddie had led the boys inside to the dining room table, where the older Hellfire members were already sitting. You lead Steve in the other direction, making good on your promise of a house tour.

“So this is your place?” Mike took in the surroundings; they were sitting in a dining room that was attached to a small kitchen. Various picture frames dotted the walls and a large potted plant sat next to the china cabinet.

“Yep, we moved in last weekend. The trailer was getting too crowded now that Gremlin’s decided to grow into a tiny human,” Mike had no idea what Eddie was talking about, but Eddie sounded horribly offended at the idea of Gremlin growing. “We’ve been planning the move for ages, but we finally had enough money to do it. Wayne seemed sad to see us go, but I think he’s happy to have the place to himself. Kind of annoying we lost Mayfield as a babysitter, though.”

Dustin seemed to have a faint inkling as to what Eddie was talking about, “I saw your girlfriend at Family Video a few weeks ago with her daughter.”

As if this was the craziest news in the world, Mike blurted out, “a kid?” His eyes darted around the room, finally taking in the several picture frames embedded with the image of a curly haired toddler.

“Yeah, Eddie’s girlfriend has a kid,” Dustin said casually, proud that he’d figured out this fact about his mentor before Mike. “It’s pretty cool you’re a stepdad.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, but Gareth, Jeff, and Grant just laughed. “Stepdad ? Henderson, no, no, no.”

Lucas shook his head, pointing to the closest picture frame; the little toddler was sitting on Eddie’s shoulders, her fingers gripping his dark brown curls, identical to her own unruly mess of hair. She looked like a mini version of him, both had mischief gleaming in their chocolate button eyes. “That’s obviously his kid.” 

Like a sign from above signifying the revelation, an egg timer went off in the kitchen.

Dustin choked on his soda. “You have a kid? How did that happen?”

Lucas whacked him on the back, attempting to stop his friend's spluttering. “How do you think it happened, dipshit?” It seemed to work.

“No,” the tips of Dustin’s ears turned pink, his voice still hoarse. “I meant-”

“You want the story,” Eddie grinned, and Gareth, Jeff, and Grant groaned. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “Settle in boys, for this is a tale for the ages.”

Gareth snorted, “What the hell are you talking about? Indie is the product of too much alcohol and an expired condom.”

“Excuse me, but Gremlin was born from an epic love story that crossed not only class barriers, but changed Hawkins society as we know it.”

Steve entered the dining room with a can of cola, you following close behind him. 

“Babe,” you rolled your eyes, having heard the conversation. You set a plate of pizza rolls down in front of the boys. “I think Gareth is a little closer to the truth. It wasn’t West Side Story .”

“You don’t think our story is romantic?”

“Our story? Sure. Teen pregnancy? Not so much.” Steve snorted.

Dustin had calmed down a bit, but he still had a lot of questions. “Wait, I’m confused. Steve said you were a cheerleader. How did you get with Eddie? You’re way out of his league.”

Surprisingly, Eddie didn’t look offended, instead he pulled you into his lap and tucked his chin over your shoulder, looking at the young teens. “You’re dead right, Henderson, she is way out of my league.” You scoffed, ready to disagree with him but he cut you off, “do you want to tell the story, babe?”

You adjusted yourself so you were sitting on Eddie’s thigh, his hands firmly gripping your waist. “My family moved to Hawkins at the start of my sophomore year. I didn’t really notice Eddie much that first year, he was a junior and we ran in very different circles.”

“I noticed her though. Straight away. Especially when she wore her cheer uniform-”

You flicked him on the shoulder, continuing with your story. “Anyway, school was out for the summer. Remember the heatwave in ‘83? I was driving down Millbrook and it was at least 100 degrees outside and the hood of my car started smoking. So I pulled over and began freaking out, because you know Millbrook, it’s all farmland and there’s no one around for miles.”

“But I just happened to be driving down Millbrook.”

“Yeah, Eddie was my knight in a Metallica cut off. He figured out what was wrong with my car, drove us to the auto shop, bought whatever it was that my car needed and fixed it for me.”

“It was super easy, she’d just run out of-”

You cut him off before he could begin to ramble about cars and the importance of checking the coolant level. “I bought him a milkshake to thank him and we’ve been together ever since.”

“And your kid?” Mike asked through a mouthful of pizza rolls.

“Gareth wasn’t far off. Pretty sure it happened after the homecoming dance that Eddie refused to attend. He snuck in my window when I got home with a bottle of peppermint schnapps and…” you drifted off, noticing the wide eyes at the table, as well as Steve's smirk. “I’ll spare you the details. Nine months later Indie was born.”

"Indie? Like Indiana?" Lucas asked, he wouldn’t admit it but the story was romantic.

"No, Indie like Indigo. Indigo Ripley Munson," Eddie said proudly, and you smiled. He'd snuck Ripley on the birth certificate before you could protest, but you had to admit your daughter couldn't ask for a better role model than the badass heroine from Alien.

It was as if her name summoned her. A bleary eyed toddler in pink footie pajamas entered the dining room, rubbing her eyes.

“Hi sweet pea,” you hoped off Eddie’s thigh, picking up your daughter and smoothing her hair. “Did we wake you?”

“Not tired,” she said, instantly contradicting herself by yawning. “Want Dadda to tell me a story,” she pushed away from you, reaching for Eddie. “With princesses.” 

As much as you wanted to be her favourite, it warmed your heart knowing how much she loved her Dad.

Eddie held out his arms to take her from you and she instantly snuggled against him. "Dad’s playing a game with his friends, do you want to listen? There’s no princesses but there are lots of monsters." She nodded, smiling. 

You knew it was futile to try and get her to go back to sleep now that Eddie had promised her a story. Knowing Eddie it would be a gory and violent story, but having sat in on many of Hellfire's campaigns, Indie was used to it. You thought it was creepy that she was enamoured with monsters, Eddie thought it was adorable.

You crouched down next to Eddie so you were on eye level with your daughter. "See those boys over there? That's Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. Do you want to say hi?"

She stuck out her bottom lip, contemplating the question before shaking her head. Dustin grinned, he liked this kid, she had spirit.

"How did you manage graduating with a kid? I mean Eddie obviously didn't," Mike said. The table went silent. Surprisingly, it was Steve that spoke up.

"He could have graduated, he just chose to put his family first, right Munson?"

Eddie looked at Steve and smiled. You stood up to glare at Mike, "Steve's right, Eddie should have graduated in '84, but he had different priorities that year."

Turning his attention to Mike, Eddie sighed, “My first senior year was when we found out about the pregnancy. My uncle got me a job working nights at the plant, so I slept through most of my morning classes. But the money was good and we were able to afford most of the stuff we needed for a new baby without asking for help. But I failed pretty much all my classes.”

You nodded. “My parents cut me off when they found out we were keeping the baby. They already hated that I was with Eddie and were looking for a reason to disown me; teen pregnancy was it. So aside from the secondhand stuff we got from the Holts’ and the Mitchells’, and that Wayne never made us pay rent, we did it pretty much all on our own. Eddie’s second senior year was also my senior year, but it was our first year with Indie too.”

“I didn’t want her skipping class, she’s too smart to not graduate. So I stayed home with Gremlin. Wayne helped out when he could, but I still managed to miss most of my classes.”

“But now, I have a job that lets us afford daycare and rent, and Eddie’s been working real hard at school. You know what they say, third times the charm.”

“This is my year, I can feel it.”

“Damn right, babe.” You leant down to kiss his cheek. “And Indie and I will be right there cheering you on when you cross that stage.”

It was all too much for Dustin to handle, hearing about this part of Eddie’s life; his girlfriend, his daughter, his connection to Steve. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. He was filled with a newfound desire to protect his friend; he had a family to think about after all, hell he’d traded in his ratty old van for a station wagon.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin wasn’t sure if he felt more hurt or betrayed that Eddie had kept such a big part of his life a secret.

“I never hid it, Henderson, you just never asked.”

Dustin thought back to what Steve had said all those weeks ago, ‘you don't know as much about your friends as you think you do.’ He was right, Dustin didn’t know that much about Eddie. He knew he was in a band and liked metal music, but he hadn’t asked him much in the way of personal questions.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I-”

Eddie cut him off with a lazy grin, “Relax, Dustin, we’ve got the rest of the year right?” For some reason the use of his first name instantly put Dustin at ease. He let out a breath and smiled at Eddie. “Now are we playing?”

“And that’s our cue,” you nodded at Steve, leaving the boys and Indie to their game.

Later that night, after everyone had gone home and Indie was finally tucked up in bed, Eddie said something that surprised you.

“I think we should make Steve Indie’s godfather.”

“What? You’re not religious.”

“No, I know. I don’t mean it in the whole ‘teaching faith’ way. I just,” he ran his hand through his hair. “I know he’s important to you, and he loves Indie. If something was to happen to us, I know he’d take good care of her.”

“I think that’s a great idea, babe. Is this about what he said to Wheeler?”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed, he hadn’t wanted to admit that Steve’s approval had affected him. “Maybe.”

You grinned. Steve had been your friend for a long time, since you first moved to Hawkins. You’d known him through his douchebag phase, and you were his only friend from his high school days he’d kept in touch with since he’d mellowed out. But he and Eddie had never gotten along; Eddie was too loud and brash, and Steve still held an air of elitism that although he’d mostly gotten rid of, still reared its ugly head whenever Eddie was around. 

Today, though, the two of them somewhat made an attempt at a truce. “How about we invite him for lunch and ask him?”

Eddie groaned, “ugh, can’t you just ask him?”

“It was your idea!”

“Fine, we’ll do it together.”

Baby steps.

Okay okay... I would really appreciate feedback as I worked my ass off on this one. And guys... I was so nervous my mum read this... that's the first time she's read my writing since I was in high school. @a-lil-pr1ncess @livsters

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[hisui-dreamer]

ode to the heir of the underworld

Pairing: Idia Shroud x gn!reader

Synopsis: you would always be willing to stay by his side, no matter how gloomy he might be

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for idia, bot proofread

Word count: 618

Notes: happy birthday idia!! fr he was the only character i hated when I started twst, but he's grown a lot of me ever since and seeing his dialogue is always so refreshing hahaha

Masterlist

Your lover is always nervous when he's talking to other people. And though it's a formidable shadow in his life, the rare moments of tranquillity that come with your presence hold a gentle beauty. The subtle relaxation, the easing of tense shoulders, and the softening of his guarded expressions—it warms your heart that he can breathe freely around you. In those fleeting instances, when his guard lowers, you see the true essence of his being, and it's in those vulnerable, unfiltered moments that your affection for him grows even deeper.

Your lover harbours a tempest within, a brewing storm that can be triggered by the smallest of things, though it's rarely aimed in your direction. It’s an anger that flares, but it's also a blaze that swiftly extinguishes itself, dissipating at the slightest touch of understanding or reassurance. You're slightly ashamed to admit it, but watching him burst into smoldering, golden flames is ever so slightly amusing.

Your lover holds his younger brother in the highest regard, showering him with unconditional adoration and protectiveness. He takes crafting custom upgrades, playing video games together, and doting on him with an earnestness that knows no bounds. It's incredibly heartwarming just how he's willing to go the distance just for his little brother.

Your lover has no boundaries in scientific creation when he is sparked by motivation. The dormant genius ignites within him, birthing ideas that defy the confines of convention. From the meticulous coding of new programs to the intricate design of futuristic gadgets, his creativity dances on the edge of brilliance. It's in these rare moments that you can see him fully as the technology genius he always was.

Your lover's excitement about the various games and anime that interest him truly rival a child. His eyes alight with a fervour that's infectious, and his words spill forth in a torrent, carrying with them a depth of knowledge and excitement that's utterly captivating. It's a large contrast between the gloomy man who always thinks the worst of every situation. In these moments where he allows himself to hope, you find yourself enchanted by the sheer intensity of his spirit, revelling in the privilege of glimpsing the vibrant core of his being.

Your love how, behind closed doors, he reveals a side that contrasts starkly with his reserved demeanour. He becomes the definition of affection and clinginess, seeking closeness and reassurance in your presence. His walls crumble, allowing vulnerability to emerge as he leans into cuddles, lingering embraces, and moments where he simply revels in your warmth. In these private spaces, he's unafraid to express his longing for connection, finding solace in the intimacy shared between you both, relishing every opportunity to be close and cherished.

Your love how he holds you as something delicate, a precious treasure he fears losing in the whirlwind of his own fears. In the quiet moments, he showers you with a tenderness that speaks volumes, his touch gentle as if afraid to break the fragile connection you share. He navigates your relationship with cautious steps, always nervously watching for signs of distance, a silent fear etched in his eyes that you might one day decide to leave. His actions, though at times hesitant, speak volumes of the depth of his affection, a love that seeks to protect and cherish every moment spent by your side.

Your lover is an enigmatic cosmos of emotions and complexities, a constellation of fears and passions, each shining with its unique brilliance. You share a love that dances amidst the stars, navigating the nebulae of his complexities, finding beauty in the intricate patterns of his soul.

Your lover, is none other than Idia Shroud.

Masterlist

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

5k is so deserved! I constantly go back and reread your works and am always looking forward to what’s next ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve been having thoughts about a Hesh x femreader reunion request thats similar to your latest Keegan piece. Except reader was childhood friends with the Walker boys, but despite there being feelings between Hesh and reader they’re scared of confessing because of their friendship. they get separated when Odin happens, and both join the military and reunite during a joint Op with the Ghosts and readers team, and even after 10 years their feelings resurface and finally get together.

Can’t wait to see what you’ll write for all the requests!!

—To The Boy of My Childhood

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

You remembered his kindness, above all. His big, pure, heart. Hesh wasn’t just someone you grew to know and then threw out like a pair of old socks, no, he was too good for that—a mix of playful boyishness and the makes of a fine man. You wished you could have told him how much he meant to you before it all just fell apart. 

Growing up near the Walker boys was a treat and a curse, not for yourselves, but for the adults—no one got in the way of you three. Late nights in the backyard, laughter keeping everyone up into the small hours. The fights and the near-instantaneous make-ups. 

The older years of deep-rooted attraction to the green-eyed boy of your youth.

David Hesh Walker had been everything you had ever wanted, and even when the ground shook and the word split, you still couldn’t tell him how you felt. But fate had plans for the two of you—it was only a matter of time. 

Ten years, to be exact.

You jump down from the helo, your knees taking the brunt of the weight from your gear as your team follows. Fort Santa Monica was a bustling stronghold right on the door of Federation occupation—enemies stalking like animals beyond the wall for a glimpse of weakness. The men and women here were anything but.

“On me!” You call out behind you, and the resounding rush of booted feet follows as you all move out along the helicopter pad swiftly. The unit you were assigned was given a simple task—assist the commanding Captain here and his men with wall defense to reduce the amount of casualties. 

Over the ten years of war, you’d honed yourself into something akin to a walking weapon. Found deliriously surviving in the remnants of the USA, your rage and anger gave you the skills you needed to still be alive when the soldiers found you; brought you back to civilization. It hadn’t taken much for you to sign up after that, thinking Hesh and his brother were dead. 

Hesh. God, you had loved him so much that the feeling hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even now. Being so close to home once more made you feel…strange. 

“Lieutenant!” One of the soldiers comes up to greet you all, shouting above the whir of blades—he was an older man with a shaved head and a large beard. “Welcome to Santa Monica!”

“Good to be here!” You call, a rifle hanging heavy on your chest. “Where do you need us, Sir?”

“Fall in, I’m bringin’ you to Scarecrow!” So you follow, leaving the sandy beach of the port and heading into the dense streets. There were civilians in this Fort, you knew, just beyond the checkpoint of fences. You have to wonder how they felt about this—trapped in a rat cage with the water and the war clamping to them tightly. 

“Heard your unit was well-known.” You’d learned the man’s name was Thomas Merrick—a Captain here. You blink at him, head tilting. “Scarecrow was eager to get you here, can’t say why.” 

“I was told you needed support at the wall, Captain,” you explain, brows furrowing. “Were my superiors mistaken?”

Merrick's brown eyes stare at you as you walk beside him, your men all speaking to one another from behind. 

“No,” is all you’re told. 

This ‘Scarecrow’ was known as only that, and your lips thin at the comment leveled at you. Strange. 

Your other men are shown their barracks, and you send them off to get rid of their packs and belongings while you continue on with Merrick to the control room—eager to meet this Captain and get real answers. 

When you get there, the second you push open the door and Merrick takes his leave, you’re greeted by one of the old faces that you could recognize anywhere. 

You freeze just three feet into the room, locking eyes with this mythical ‘Scarecrow’ but it wasn’t some great war strategist, at least, not as you know him.

“Mr. Walker?” You pause, blinking in confusion. Elias Walker—Hesh and Logan’s dad. Your heart constricts in your chest. 

He looks at you, a small smile on his stern face as his arms crossed, nodding his head. 

“Thought I recognized that name in my request for transfers.” 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, a grin breaking out over your face for the first time in ages. Part of you wanted to race and hug him—bathe in the comfort that his rare soft looks would bring you when you were younger…but you weren’t that kid anymore. Being alive was enough, and with the things you’d seen, it meant far more than anything else. Elias seemed to share that sentiment, as he walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. 

“How did…how are…” Your head shakes quickly, memories flooding back along with the pain. But there, in your chest, a flicker of hope—something more blooming back to life. “Logan?” Your voice is tiny, pleading as you pause, gazing into Elias’s eyes. “...Hesh?”

“I already called ‘em back in. They’ll be here soon.” He gives you a proud nod. “I’m glad you’re still here, Sweetheart.” 

You laugh, smile wobbling. 

Alive. Hesh was alive. 

Every wall you’d built falls the second boyish laughter echoes out from the halls. You turn, hearing feet move down the floor, closer and closer as your body stills like a statue. 

Alive. 

When a shoulder pushes open the door, you stop breathing as a far older David enters the room, Logan, as always, not far behind. 

He’s mature now, with a beanie over his short brown hair and the presence of a grown man holding down responsibilities—he was smirking back and his brother, saying in a voice that haunts your dreams, “Think we should tell him what Riley found today, Logan?” 

The younger brother stops short, locks eyes with you, and his body goes as tight as a fishing line. 

Hesh’s brows furrow. “Logan?” He turns to you and those green eyes go confused for a moment, lips going thin. It’s a flash of recognition that re-ignites them—a flicker of something long past before they snap wide with fierce realization.

Blinking quickly, the man watches you, hands at his sides jerking forward by a millimeter as if to grab for you at even a single glance. No one speaks for a long, long time, and maybe you don’t want them to. Hesh and you are locked in a look of pure pain and elation—a dance of life and death. 

There aren’t any words for it beyond the sudden mad scramble for the other’s hold. 

You collide in a sharp breath and a hand to the back of your head—keeping you to him as you both grasp for purchase; for a glimpse of your childhood back.

“Jesus Christ,” Hesh breathes, anchoring you to him as his chest sputters. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Hesh,” you whimper through a sobbing laugh. “You son of a bitch, I should throttle you.”

He scoffs wetly into your ear, hands quivering and voice cracking. 

“Me? If I remember, Doll, you were the one to take that tumble down the hill—I…I tried to find you, y’know that? I swear, I didn’t want to leave but I—”

You pull back and slam your lips to his. 

It was far better than an ‘I love you’ when he melted and grappled you closer.

[jinkoh]

did you have your fun?

younghoon x fem!reader

summary: if younghoon isn't serious about you, how come it's so easy to make him jealous?

tags: fwb/situationship to lovers, jealous!possessive!younghoon, fratboy!au, teasing, making out, heavily suggestive, a little bondage lol, some misunderstandings, some fluff

wc: 1.5k

a/n: kate made a tiny comment abt our beloved shared bias and suddenly i had to write a drabble about it 🙊 thanks for always watching and gushing abt our men together, @blizzardfluffykpop

Masterlist

You knew exactly what you were doing when you walked into the frat party with your lab partner’s arm around your waist. You weren’t serious about Kevin and he knew that well, merely playing along for shits and giggles. No, this wasn’t about him. It was all about one of the hosts, Kim Younghoon. You had his attention the second you came through the door, meeting his eyes briefly before letting them wander over the rest of the guests. Younghoon didn’t move on quite as quickly though, his gaze piercing you and the guy at your side who so clearly wasn’t him. 

“Someone’s not amused, huh?” Kevin whispered, coming unnecessarily close and making a show of tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You felt a grin spread on your lips.

“Well, this isn’t about his amusement but mine.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Kevin shook his head with a chuckle, clearly as entertained with all of this as you were. “So, drinks?”

“Always.”

“Good,” once more Kevin leaned in close to your ear, “I’ll be back.” He turned to leave, not without his hand lingering on your waist just a little bit too long. Of course Younghoon noticed and he was clearly not having a good time. He stared you down from the other side of the room, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek—a telltale sign that his patience was already running thin. Funny, you thought, since you’d only just arrived. Even funnier, since he’d been the one insisting that you and him were casual, just friends even, in front of his buddies. And yet, he got riled up so easily when someone else was by your side.

You turned away unimpressed, looking for a place to sit. If Younghoon wanted to talk to you, he’d have to make the first step. You wouldn’t come running after him like a dog just because he liked puppies.

Kevin soon came back with drinks for both of you, finding you on the couch sitting next to Eric who enthusiastically greeted him, surprised to see the two of you came together.

“I thought you were dating Younghoon, to be honest,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head, “he’s been talking about you and you were always hanging out…”

“Oh, really?” You couldn’t help feeling a little smug.

“Ah, but don’t worry about it,” he quickly added, turning to Kevin, “you look good together.”

“Of course we do,” he responded with a grin, casually letting his hand rest on your knee. He was really going all out with this and when you caught another glimpse of Younghoon who was very obviously focusing more on you than on whatever Hyunjae was telling him, you felt you made the right choice in asking Kevin to accompany you. 

You thoroughly enjoyed the party, having a few drinks, joking around with some of the guys and of course, sharing some not so subtle touches with Kevin. You tried not to let your gaze wander back to Younghoon too often, but the way you knew all his attention was on you made your skin prickle with a sense of excitement. Your initial plan had been to wait it out a little longer and rile him up more. You had to admit though, that Younghoon wasn’t the only one who was running out of patience. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom, but judging from the little eyebrow raise Kevin gave you, he was well aware that you probably wouldn’t come back so soon. 

You’d barely stepped into the hallway when someone grabbed your wrist and whisked you around a corner, out of sight from other party guests. It only took him a second to have you pinned against the wall, hovering above you.

“Did you have your fun?” 

Younghoon was clearly pissed off, but you still wanted to push a little further. “Oh, I barely even started. The night is still young, right?”

“What,” he taunted, “did you plan to go home with him later? Really?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

“Unbelievable,” Younghoon let out a huffed laugh, running his hand through his hair before looking back at you again. “You’re showing up to a party at my house with some guy and expect me to let that slide? Didn’t I warn you last time not to pull shit like this?”

“Well,” you lifted your chin and gave him a challenging look, “and didn’t I tell you last time that you’re in no position to give me any such warning?”

There was his tongue poking his cheek again and you knew you had him where you wanted him to be. “Fine, keep being a brat, but see where it gets you.”

You leaned up close enough for your breath to fan over his lips. “Show me then.”

That was it. You had him. He almost forcefully crashed his lips into yours, kissing you with an intoxicating mix of hunger and frustration that you couldn’t get enough of. You let yourself fall into the kiss, raking your hands through his soft hair and pulling him closer. 

“You’re so much trouble,” he mumbled when you parted to breathe.

“Are you sure it’s me who’s troublesome?” you responded with a chuckle but between bickering back and kissing you again Younghoon chose the latter. You lightly bit down on his lower lip to tease him and it seemed to make him feel vindicated in his accusation. “Definitely you,” he said with a grin before pulling you with him, up the stairs and to his bedroom.

It was far from the first time you were falling onto his soft mattress, nor was it the first time to have him hover above you, greedy hands pushing up your shirt. No, Younghoon and you had been doing this for a while now (surely longer than was good for you) but it still felt so exciting every single time. Despite your frustration with the ambiguous nature of your relationship, his touch was just so addicting to you and you liked touching him just as much.

It seemed you wouldn’t be allowed to tonight though, because the moment you started tugging on the waistband of his pants, Younghoon caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them down above your head. 

“Who said you could touch me with those filthy hands that were all over him just a few minutes ago?” 

“I barely even touched him,” you let out a dissatisfied whine, but Younghoon didn’t budge. His free hand pushed up your shirt, pulling it all the way over your head before using it to keep your wrists tied. He briefly slipped two fingers between your skin and the soft fabric, making sure it wasn’t sitting too tight, before he let his hand trail back down over your inner arm to your collar bones.

“Much better,” he whispered close to your ear, “Good to have my hands free.” A grin spread on his lips, "Not like you could relate right now."

"Very funny."

"I know, right?" He let his fingers roam over your body, before settling on your hips and pulling them up a bit, making you arch your back off the mattress. It gave him the access he needed to slip one hand beneath your body and unclasp your bra. He didn’t bother taking it off properly, just pushing it up enough to reveal your chest and attaching his lips to your sensitive skin right away. 

“You better not let him see this part of you,” he mumbled in between nibs and kisses.

“What if I already did?”

His eyes shot up to yours. “Did you?”

“No,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, tied wrists resting at his nape, “but it’s fun to see your reaction. Pretty jealous of someone who doesn’t want to be exclusive.”

A small frown spread on his face. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well, you made it pretty clear that we’re not serious when your friends asked before.”

He averted his gaze and you thought there was the faintest blush rising all the way to the tips of his ears. “We’d never talked about it at that point so of course I can’t just say we’re dating.” His voice sounded pouty. 

You felt your own cheeks heat up too at his words, realizing your own silly misunderstanding. “You should have told me,” you mumbled, well aware that you could have addressed it too.

“Is that why you’ve been clinging to Kevin these days? Because you thought I didn’t want you?”

“I thought maybe you just didn’t want to admit it…”

A small smile tugged at Younghoon’s lips before he leaned up to peck yours. “Well, since you so clearly want me it’s not that hard to admit.” He pecked your lips again. “I want you. I like you. So don’t let others touch you again.”

“Okay,” you kissed him back, “I won’t. So can you untie me now?” You demonstratively wriggled your arms.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Younghoon grinned, before rolling his hips into you, “I think it’s kinda fun this way.”

Masterlist

[pennyblossom-meta]

The curious case of Anna Green on AO3

Initially a drabble meant to be written in one or two days, this has grown into a full fledged side fic from L's POV.

Dedicated to @lunalit-river and @scar8o. Thank you for always being so supportive 💜

--

Chapters (1/3)

Summary: L frowns, biting down on his thumb as he scans the opening lines of Near’s email, “There are barely any records on the ‘Anna Green’ who enrolled this year at To-Ho university. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be a ghost.”

--

“Ryuzaki, here are the files you asked for.”

“Thank you, Watari.”

The lights are off at this time of night, save for the dim glow cast by the wide monitor resting on a table adjacent to the wall. A humming lingers. It’s faint, incessant, — comfortable, L muses as he wolfs down the last third of a chocolate cake slice — much like static filling the air. Familiar. Drowned by the intermittent snores of the two detectives staying overnight, not quite a crescendo in the strictest sense; even as it grows in energy while the hours tick by. He’s noticed the symphony — though the term cacophony might be more accurate — tends to devolve into a nasal staccato with every 3 or 4 longer exhales, sometimes echoing in obnoxious discordance that makes him more and more certain he’s being pestered by the undiagnosed sequels of mild sleep apnea.

Chewing loudly, he glances at the digital clock on the bottom right corner of the screen; it’s close to a quarter to 5 in the morning. So late it’s almost early.

From the corner of his eye, he sees that Watari stayed behind to tidy up the room. Tilting his head to the left to get a better angle, he examines the slow, deliberate movements with scepticism; they’re as fluid as they’re contrived, as if practised to stall for as long as possible. He draws conclusions from the little things happening in the background; how the delicate china barely clinks against the small coffee spoons when stacked; sugary amanattõ wrappers gathered into a neat pile, set aside; the soft, careful sweeping near the walls so as to avoid rousing the two men from their sleep.

There’s words to be had; his gut tells him there’s a very much non-trivial chance that this will be a precursor to something.

A rustling of papers invites him to glimpse at Watari’s reflection on polished surfaces. It’s closer to 63%, now. Very well.

He skims through the first 10 pages for an overview, his gaze tarrying for a few seconds too long on the picture of a young woman before he turns his attention to the screen. Behind him, the soft brushing of Watari’s coordinated sweeps pauses for a moment and he knows, it’s as evident as rain in April, he stands corrected that this is where the knots will begin to unravel. 

L frowns, biting down on his thumb as he scans the opening lines of Near’s email, “There are barely any records on the ‘Anna Green’ who enrolled this year at To-Ho university. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be a ghost."

Slurp 

He chugs half the tea sitting in his cup, focusing on the scalding hot sensation in the back of his throat as he reads on, picking out bits and pieces.

“...no record that Anna Green was ever present for the entrance exams, though, allegedly, she has scores for them. Below average at best, mediocre to the point that, under normal circumstances, no one with this poor of a performance would be considered for admission. What’s even more intriguing are the reasons why To-Ho agreed to bend the rules for the one student, allowing this woman to bypass university policy and, not only sit for highly competitive and specific exams abroad, but also take up classes from different courses…”

Strange, indeed. Definitely something to look further into. L taps his index finger on the mouse, nail lightly grazing over the ridges on the wheel. He looks up, deep in thought. All this information does beg the question: who exactly allowed this to go overlooked? The university board? A rogue member of staff?

Someone with enough influence to bend the rules?

“...doesn’t exist as a citizen of any country…no travel records in any airline or shipping company coming into or out of Japan…"

Unlawful entrance under a false identity, most definitely. Or as part of a smuggling network. 

"...the only data available is on the university enrollment process…impossible to find anything on the father; the mother’s records (kept maiden name, no mention of a husband or children) show a birthplace at a small town in Italy, 1955, right at the border with Switzerland, and nothing more of consequence...all records left blank from the age of 11 until her death in 1987…no significant medical records either, save for a short comment about the passing itself, as per the following transcription: ‘incidente, avvenuto il 18 gennaio nel Leicestershire, nel Regno Unito’, — filed by the grandfather, dead from prolonged illness by 1988 though ‘grief’ has been listed as a catalyst…”

A freak accident in Leicestershire, on January 18, 1987? What a coincidence that nothing more of substance could be retrieved from these records, save for vague and elusive information. He wonders if this secrecy is related to the father somehow, — he licks his lips to taste the faint remnants of black tea that linger on chapped skin and skims over the university records for the name, narrowed eyes resting again on the young woman's picture — this Atticus Cornelius Green. If that's even his real name.

He looks at the birthdates, realising that she would've been 6, going on 7, at the time of the supposed accident. Only one year younger than himself. It will be her 24th birthday soon, in little more than a month.

Scrolling down the email, he reads on.

"...tuition payments funnelled through Goodfellow's Bank, which appears to be a highly selective, privately owned financial institution based in Britain. Virtually unknown, with only 3 physical offices, total, in Europe and the United States, with no presence in Asia…registered under the apparently long-lived Gringotts Foundation, since the mid 1800’s. On the surface there's nothing questionable about Goodfellow's, though further scrutiny reveals said Foundation is also a major (and the only) shareholder, led by a series of individuals throughout the decades who do not exist beyond the trust…”

Sucking on his spoon thoughtfully, L tastes the dried grains of caffeine that cling to the bowl, agglomerating towards the tip. There’s a small chance that this is witness protection at work, but if so then it’s freakishly elaborate. Dead end after dead end and a myriad of red herrings meant to confuse anyone who investigates, while making it seem perfectly reasonable. Outstandingly legal. One would have to read between those creatively woven lines. 

But then there’s the shadow bank. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and acts like a duck, then it is a duck — or so the saying goes. Official police forces wouldn’t be able to resort to these underhanded tactics without a tangible need; and there would be an inquiry or requisition beforehand. Someone would have to budge. Things like these always leave a trail. Though the British Secret Services could potentiate such a scenario and there would be nothing to pursue, if they so wished. 

But to what end? For a trip abroad? It didn’t make sense. There’s abuse of the law and then there’s playing around it, dangling the threads like a puppet master.

“...there’s no system to hack and therefore no personal data to retrieve. Any bank transfers seem to be made in person, at the London office. Though To-Ho lists two different addresses for foreign students; Anna Green’s file shows one in the UK and the other in Japan. The former is registered as the sole property of one Awarnach Greengrass near Windsor, dating to the late 1600’s, and has never been updated since. Otherwise, the several acres for this plot of land are not even accounted for in modern records — or pay taxes.

The latter address points to a building just a 5 minute walk outside of To-Ho. Records for the building show that it’s registered as having only 7 floors. However, the primary plans kept at the Ministry of Land and Infrastructure display a total of 8 — approved and built. The addendum was placed without rebuttal this past month of March, 4 years after the structure had been built and all apartments sold without exception. The previous proprietor of the 8th floor died mid-February and left no family to inherit, though his name was stricken from the more recent record updates…”

This isn’t like the hunt for Morello, with knotted threads and underworld connections; not when he discovered the swindles, the under the table deals with art galleries and high class politicians, in a spectacle of dazzling lights and charming conversations. Definitely nothing like Merri Kenwood’s indiscretions as the thrill-seeking second daughter of a wealthy family.

No, whatever he’s stumbled upon is much more insidious and has tendrils across the decades. 

Narrowing his eyes, L quickly reads Near’s conclusion: “...the majority of these records are fabricated with the intent to appear official, when in reality they’re nothing but a smokescreen…”

He wonders if it’s a coincidence that he’s tripped over the proverbial basket of kittens, only to find a nest of snakes. And with the murders case ongoing, does this invalidate the theory that Misa Amane might be the Second Kira? No, they’ve gathered more than enough evidence for Amane in the past few weeks, but whether this is another loose thread…

“Watari?”

He feels rather than sees Watari approach.

“Any DNA match with the bloodied gauze?” he murmurs, confident on what the answer will be.

“None at all.”

“I see. Thank you.”

There’s only a very slim chance that this is related to the Kira case, but the coincidences are too many to believe that this is entirely unrelated. Or if it is, then there’s something else happening here. I’ve met Anna Green and I’m sure she doesn’t fit the profile for the First Kira — as for the Second, there’s nothing connecting her to Light Yagami or Misa Amane…am I overthinking this?

Wiggling his toes, L starts to draw his hand towards the box of chocolates on the table. He hears a light shuffle. “There’s also the matter of M,” Watari all but whispers, voice urgent and grim.

Ah, there is it.

He swallows a bonbon. “What about him?” 

Hesitant, Watari glances over his shoulder towards the detectives sprawled on the sofas. Once he’s adequately sure that they’re still fast asleep, he continues, “It seems that M hacked into N’s server and somehow managed to decrypt your correspondence, along with all available research data on the case…”

His lips twitch ever so slightly. Behind him, Watari can’t see his amusement. 

A scattered trail of crumbs — quite possibly with Near’s veiled consent. Sounds like a move to gleefully fuel Mello’s one-sided competition — or perhaps…

An allowance?

“Predictable, if unwise,” he licks the corner of his mouth, lapping at the bits of chocolate left behind. Hazelnut — and caramel. Slightly salty, but edible. 

“— travelled to London on his own to investigate the premises of this Goodfellow’s Bank, but only found a closed shop with no visible schedule. Nearby residents confirmed they had never seen it open.”

“That would be the primary office in Charing cross Road (1), yes?”

“Indeed.”

“Then it’s a red herring, as expected.” 

“Unfortunately that’s not all,” if possible, Watari lowers his voice even further, making L cock his head to the side as he strains to listen to this secret. “Days later, M stole a car and drove by himself straight to Windsor through the motorway, where he decided to prowl the farmlands until almost running out of gas. According to M’s report, he seems to have stumbled upon the property registered under the Green family — although his findings point to a derelict mansion in the middle of the forest, not a livable estate.”

Watari sifts through the stack of papers, picking the last set in the pile with the upper left corner folded into a neat triangle. N emailed, while M chose to fax , he whispers. L pinches the top of the file, his eyes moving quickly from left to right, up and down, until he’s made a mental map of the contents.

“ ‘...ruins surrounded by crumbling gates and overgrown English ivy that claimed the entire structure a long time ago…’ — I see, so it couldn’t be it at all. Yet another red herring,” he drawls, looking up at the ceiling. Shadows dance, long-limbed and distant, illusive. “Though this does give more credence to the witness protection theory, I’m still not sure…”

Is this indeed a case of false identity? Theft and blackmail? What’s going on?

He reads the last page and frowns. “M didn’t examine the property?” 

A rhetorical question, to which Watari merely shakes his head. ‘...lost interest in a useless cat and mouse chase, not worth looking for clues here. Forgot to bring a lantern.(2)’ L puts down the file, placing it on top of the stack, thinking it’s a strange conclusion for Mello to reach, especially when he's so desperate to prove himself above Near. It pays for the overconfident to be thorough. And he knows that well enough, despite his impetuousness.

Lodging a fingernail between his two front teeth, L ponders over Mello’s words once more. The attitude itself is out of the ordinary.

Watari busies himself cleaning the crumbs under his armchair, in silence. Then, he tidies the stack, now out of order. Waiting for a follow up, no doubt; but these things can’t be rushed. L pours through photos of the landscape, scrutinising every inch of the images; any resulting from this adventure are blurry and pigmented, as if altered post-processing. An unfortunate accident, explained when the camera malfunctions shortly after Mello is — as he states in brash words, the offence visible even through writing — suddenly picked up by a police car on the motorway. The agents sputtered, perplexed that a 14 year old boy drove a stolen car. Roger had to pay a hefty fine to keep Mello out of juvenile prison. He also gets out of a damning record for underage driving, thanks to the many contacts at Wammy’s.

Lame-ass, he calls it.

As expected, Mello seems unhappy with this particular turnout. His intelligence combined with bubbling insecurities and a natural inclination towards the extreme, Mello has the makings of a fairly competent criminal.

L narrows his eyes, “Say, do we have the results on the ‘coin collection’?”

A rustle of fabric. Watari promptly pours him more tea, the robust aroma wafting upwards, “The bu is an authentic coin from the Edo Period, nowadays often on display at museums or secured by ancient history collectors. One single piece would be up for sale starting at 1.5 thousand, subject to the seller’s reputation.”

“There were at least 12 on the floor that night, some perhaps more obscure than currency from Edo if my eyes didn’t deceive me,” he taps his lips with one pale finger, looking thoughtful. “What about the other one?”

“The second coin is made of solid gold, though the minting — remarkable as it is — doesn’t match any known branch. The coinage alone is entirely unknown, even if it bears Gringott's Foundation inscriptions."

Could they really be collectibles, after all?

He nods. “Thank you for your diligence, Watari. As always,” he adds after a heartbeat, quietly slurping the remnants of his black tea, “Please file these away as soon as you’re able.”

L eyes the now neatly arranged stack. For the last time, he allows himself to stare at the picture on the first page before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Of course.”

Silent as a shadow, Watari leaves.

I have a lot of thinking to do. But she doesn’t fit the profile…and I’m certain Amane is the Second Kira, at this point. No, this is something else entirely.

Alone again save for the sleeping detectives, L finds that his fingers clench over his knees of their own accord, muscles taunt and knuckles blanching bone white as he looks out the window at the waking sun. 

Another day, another mystery.

...

TBC

[ihearnocomplaints]

It’s almost 1am and I decided to write a little DCA drabble just for fun. (Not canon to my AU)

You look around the seemingly empty daycare. It’s dark. Unusual, you think. Shrugging off the unease, you step in.

Why were you here again? Had you forgotten something? You stand there, next to the slide nearest to the exit. Staring at the floor, brows furrowed, you try to retrace your steps.

You had said goodbye to Sun and left. Halfway to the main entrance, you remembered something. What was it? What was it you remembered? Had you remembered that you’d forgotten something? Were you intending to give the Daycare Attendant something? Why can’t you remember?

You groan and drag a hand down your face.

Well, you can’t leave yet, since you clearly came back for a reason.

“Sun?” You call out, glancing around the darkness. No answer. You strain your ears to see if you can hear the soft whirring of his mechanisms or the jingle of his bells. Again, nothing.

Frustrated, you step deeper into the daycare, beyond the light the doorway casts. You walk past the tall jungle gyms, desaturated and cast in an eerie light now that the daycare is dark and empty. And quiet. Too quiet.

It suddenly becomes very apparent that the never ending daycare song is no linger playing in the overhead speakers. Its absence makes you miss it all the more.

“Sun?” You call out again, now standing near the ball pit. You walk the perimeter slowly, dragging your hand across the plastic brick wall that borders it. Where could he be?

You sigh and idly walk to the rainbow bridge, standing at its peak. Maybe that would give you a better vantage point of the daycare.

You strain your eyes, slowly surveying the area before you feel a sudden tap on your left shoulder. You snap your head in that direction but find nothing there. Then there’s a tap to your opposite shoulder. Looking has the same effect as last time. You huff and turn to face the ball pit.

“Sun, this isn’t funny,” You say before turning back to face the daycare. As you turn, you’re met face to face with the Daycare Attendant, hanging upside down from a wire connected to the ceiling. Except this isn’t the Sun you know. This one is darker and night themed. Much more moon-like than Sun.

Before you can even get a word out, they’ve got their hands on your shoulders. They rotate their head 90° and give you a shove as their whispery, raspy voice says, “boo.” Followed by a mischievous giggle.

You find yourself falling backward into the ball pit. It isn’t very deep but it’s certainly overstimulating as you try to flounder your way out. It’s a struggle to even figure out which way is up and right yourself accordingly.

Once you’ve managed to stand, the balls up to your waist, you wade through them and make your way to the little island in the middle of the ball pit. “That wasn’t very nice,” You huff, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling.

There’s a brief glimpse of red that disappears behind a cloud and a familiar giggle that just barely reaches your ears. You frown and look around, trying to decide your best route to the exit.

You really should have waded over to the rainbow bridge instead of the island. It’s going to be a pain going through the ball pit again. But this was the path you chose and you must walk it.

Letting out a frustrated breath, you waddle your way through the balls once more and end up just fine on the other end, if not mildly annoyed at this point. You look to the ceiling once more but find nothing.

“I’m leaving now!” You shout up to the ceiling then mumble to yourself, “I don’t know why I even came back in the first place but, frankly, I don’t care anymore.”

As you walk past the plastic house that’s way too small to fit you, you feel something hit your back. You spin around, frantically looking around for the Daycare Attendant only to see one of the ball pit balls rolling away from you on the floor. You glare at it and then the ball pit.

“Why?” You ask, picking up the ball. You can see the animatronic’s head poke out of the ball pit, that once sweet, now eerie smile tilting as the click, click, click of their head’s mechanism rotate it. You toss the ball back into the ball pit.

“Cuz. Funny.” Is all the Daycare Attendant responds.

You’re still not sure who this is. It’s clearly a moon-themed version of Sun. But if this one is here, then where is Sun? Is this just Sun messing with you? Surely he wouldn’t do such a thing.

You huff and promptly turn away, continuing your trek to the exit. “It’s not funny. It’s mean. I don’t even know who you are and you’re already bullying me,” You say as you walk away. Another ball hits you.

“Rude.” You freeze at that and turn around, about ready to give this animatronic a piece of your mind. Except they’re no longer in the ball pit.

You glance around in all directions, thoroughly confused at how they could possibly move this fast. “I’m not rude!” You say, sounding a lot more like a petulant child than you meant to.

“You are.” The bot says, coming from your left. But when you look, there’s no one there. “Won’t even let me introduce myself.” This time the voice is directly behind you.

You stumble forward and spin around to face the tall animatronic looming behind you. Even when they’re slouched they’re taller than you. You frown and stare at them expectantly. “Well?” You gesture for them to continue.

They tilt their head as they seem to have a habit of doing. “Moon,” They say, placing a hand to their chest. They point to you and say your name. Logically, they’d know your name from the employee database but somehow it’s still a shock to you when they actually say it. Not even Sun has called you your name yet. And you know he knows it. It’s always pet names or nicknames with him.

“Moon,” You repeat with a nod, looking them up and down. “Fitting.”

Moon’s optics seem to brighten with glee and he lets out a little giggle. “Sun and Moon.” He responds with a nod.

“Can I leave now?” You ask, taking a step backward toward the exit. Moon’s gaze drifts to the door behind you before they wordlessly fly up and disappear in the rafters.

You stare up at the ceiling for a while, unsure of whether to leave or not, but when you see no further signs of Moon, you take that as your go-ahead for making a swift exit. And exit you do, practically sprinting to the exit.

You’re not sure why, but something about that whole interaction made your alarm bells ring. There was an odd sense of danger, despite Moon’s overall playfulness. There was danger in those glowing red eyes of his, you think. You can’t be certain, though. Perhaps the dark was clouding your judgement.