#I won’t look it up bc I’m afraid the answer is going to be no

[jellie-the-aqua-puma]

If Ichigo and Uryu do not tag team Yiwach at least once whenever they fight him, because I know they will both at least have to 1v1 him each, even if they get the floor swept from underneath them, then I don’t want it.

[rinhaler]

I Should Just Walk Away !

His knuckles are split, what are you meant to do? Not tend his wounds? Someone’s gotta do it! It doesn’t mean you’re going to fuck him again. No way.

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot (and a sprinkle of angst?) Notes: I'm gonna make a masterlist and stuff bc I love this au but I'm lazy pls bear with me! ♡ Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, blood ♡, wound care, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, tit sucking ♡, slight edging?, dacryphilia, m+f masturbation, car sex ♡, vaginal sex, creampie ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, kid), mutual pining ♡, angst??, calls ur pussy she/her ♡, (lmk if i missed any!!) Words: 8k

—

Even after proclamations of love for each other, the rest of the ride home is silent and uncomfortable. In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision to divulge the truth of your tryst with Sukuna to your little brother.

You could try to reassure him. But what would be the point? You’re only a few years older than him, yet somehow, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager. When you were Megumi’s age, though, you had parents.

They were alive.

Sure, you were somewhat rebellious but you behaved for the most part. You studied, worked hard, steered clear of ‘bad’ boys. And, as Sukuna so elegantly put it, you’re a ‘snooty doctor’. You’re thankful for that, because without that salary you’d never be able to afford subsidising your brother.

You had your parents.

But you’re all Megumi has.

It’s a little unsettling how quiet he’s actually being. You were bickering not too long ago, you’re taken aback that he seems to have no desire to continue. A fleeting thought that he might be trying to punish you enters your mind.

Your head snaps a few times to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same. There’s a little grimace on his face as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

It’s disgust.

“Are we okay?” you wonder, and the way it leaves your lips in a warble must be pathetic for your brother to hear. He scoffs immediately after, still outright refusing to say another word. You make sure to keep an eye on the road, though your gaze can’t help but wander towards your sibling when you get a chance. “I’m just going to make sure he’s patched up properly, okay? He’s not staying the night.”

“As if that matters.” he rolls his eyes.

It should matter. You don’t know what he means, and you don’t dare ask him to elaborate. There’s no reason for you to be scared of a seventeen-year-old. You aren’t. You’re more afraid of disappointing him.

“Megumi…” you take a breath. “It’s late. I think we should talk properly tomorrow.”

He takes a breath not too dissimilar to yours, you aren’t sure if it’s inherited or if it’s a habit he’s picked up from you. Is he mocking you? He doesn’t say much more, shrugging his shoulders is an answer all on its own. And still, it makes your heart twist as anxiety pierces through it like a stake.

“Fine.”

“Really?!” you bark out unintentionally. Maybe he’s more mature than you’ve given him credit for, because agreeing to talk properly is the last thing you expected. Your eyebrows knot briefly, and you look at him again when you reach a red light. “Are you fucking with me? You’re not serious, are you? You’re gonna sneak out in the morning and I won’t see you until—”

“I said fine. Didn’t I?” he grunts. “At least be quiet when you fuck him if you insist on lecturing me in the morning.”

“I’m not doing it again, I told you.” you assure him. “It was a stupid mistake and I regret it but I just wanna make sure his hand is okay. And then I’ll tell him to leave. I promise.”

“Should prob’ly tell him that, ‘cause he won’t stick around once he realises.” you both find yourselves looking in the rearview mirror at the man following behind you at a distance before quickly averting your eyes. “Don’t make promises you’re not gonna keep. You sound like my dad.”

“Ouch, babe. Noted.” you laugh a little despite being genuinely offended.

The rest of the journey is completed with your brain on auto-pilot. You aren’t even sure how you made it home without crashing once you realise you’ve parked perfectly in the driveway.

Megumi snatches your purse and ducks out of the car, making a beeline for the front door. You watch him as you allow your head to gently thud against the headrest behind you; he’s frantically looking for the house keys so he can shield himself from any possible sighting of you and his boss together.

He drops your purse on the ground with little care once he finds what he’s looking for, and you’re startled when you hear a knuckle lightly rap against your window.

“Nice place, princess.” he speaks, though it’s slightly muffled by the closed window.

“Stop calling me—”

“Oi. Pick up the purse.” Sukuna warns your little brother before he can hide indoors.

He looks over his shoulder at you both before slowly crouching down to pick it up. He grips it tight before finally disappearing.

Sukuna gives you room to breathe before offering a hand to help you out. Like you’ve never gotten out of your car before. Instead of taking it, you stare. You stare at his obscenely large hand and can’t help but remember his fingers had been inside of you mere moments ago.

You smile, as politely as you can, before hurriedly chasing after your brother.

He saunters after you with a lazy smirk playing on his features. You only see it when you remember you’d forgotten to lock your car. The sound of his Mercedes locking is a deafening reminder.

You enter your home; he hadn’t even bothered to turn a single light on as he charged straight towards the kitchen. You’d expected him to have locked himself in his bedroom by now. But instead, his silhouette is illuminated by the light emanating from the open fridge.

He grunts when you switch on the living room light, looking at you like a raccoon caught going through the trash as he chomps down on the cereal you’d bought on the way home from work.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the cupboard?” you ask him as you take off your coat and throw it down over the back of the couch. “You shouldn’t be eating so late, y’know.”

“I’m starving. I didn’t eat today, ‘m a growing boy, y’know.” he counters. He moves to look through each and every cupboard. He looks at you and shrugs before continuing to eat.

Your eyes are both directed to the sound of a gently closing door. You half smile at Sukuna as he enters before you look at your brother again in contemplation.

“Oh I moved it to the bathroom ‘cause we never use it.” you sigh as you make your way there. “You can finish eating in your room if you want.”

“Tryna get me out the way?” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t wanna stick around here anyway.” he side eyes Sukuna as he walks with his bowl towards his room.

You don’t see the amused grin he offers your little brother while you retrieve the first aid kit.

If you had, you’re sure you would have sent him home too.

“Sorry,” you groan, setting the kit down on the coffee table. You stand with your hands on your hips as you stare at him. It’s dawning on you, now, regardless of how exhausted you are. You’ve let a man you barely know into your home. A man older and stronger than you’d ever hope to be. You’ve welcomed a criminal into the space that is meant to be the safest for your little brother.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, sweetheart.” he cuts through your thoughts as if he can read your mind. It makes your heart race, though your face remains stoic as you try and disguise your evident worry. “Last thing I wanna do is scare you, though. I’ll go if you’re—”

“No, it’s fine.” you interject. “I’m tired, though. I’m gonna get changed because I wanna go straight to sleep after this, okay? You’re not staying.”

“Shame, I had fun.” he grins, circling the couch before sinking into it. His body is angled towards you while his eye looks you up and down with purpose. “Get comfy, I’ll be right here waiting for you, darlin’.”

Even someone as headstrong as you can’t deny how giddy he makes you. You walk backwards, unable to take your eyes off him before you eventually find your bedroom. Everything he says is so intentional, it’s almost vindictive. Like he knows just what to say to have you weak at the knees for him.

But this isn’t you.

You’ve never been the type to fall for a man’s alleged charm quite so easily. But you also didn’t think you were the type of person to fuck a stranger. He isn’t exactly a stranger, though.

He’s Megumi’s boss.

“Stop calling him that.” you whisper to yourself as you try and break yourself out of your spiralling train of thought.

You dress yourself in the most unflattering pyjamas you can find, wearing them with the full expectation of turning Sukuna off of you. He can’t possibly still be angling to fuck again when he sees you in mismatched pyjamas, complete with aged holes and stains from that one spaghetti night you and Megumi attempted.

There’s a feeble attempt made at wiping your makeup off, although you barely try. Your smile is almost blinding as you look at what a mess you are. The panda eyes from your smeared eyeliner and mascara enhance your sunken eyebags. Your eyeshadow glitters across the bridge of your nose and into your hairline beside your temples. Your pretty lipstick that you’d lined so perfectly is half removed while the other half is smudged down your chin.

You emerge from your bedroom with a confidence you only ever experience when you’re at home in your comfiest clothes. Despite your appearance, and even despite your company, you’re so content.

His eyes squint as he looks at your face, and even still, he’s smiling. He chuckles softly as you get closer to him, sitting beside him as you open the first aid kit.

“You look way prettier like this, princess.” he tells you, folding his arms across his chest as he continues to stare.

“Ah! Really? You think I look prettier?” you ask sarcastically.

“No, you look awful.” he laughs. “Is this all for my benefit? I still want to fuck you, admirable attempt though.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes as he laughs a little more, and you force yourself to frown when you realise his laughter is contagious. Everything he does is so effortless; you can’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks.

His eye fixates on you as you begin to look through your little first aid kit and pick a few things to use on his knuckles.

“I’m sure you could have done this yourself,” you start as you pick up a packet of antiseptic wipes and begin to clear the blood surrounding his knuckles. “Could have gone to a walk-in place if you were really worried.”

“Of course I could. Been doing this for years, did you really believe I don’t have my own first aid kit?” he asks. “I wanted you to do it.” he confesses, though he’s no longer smiling. You don’t stop wiping away the combination of wet and crusted over blood on his hand, though you can’t help but stare back at him.

Is he trying to scare you?

“You’re unbelievable.” you tell him, quietly.

“It’s hard to do it with one hand, sweetheart. And you’re a professional, I’d have to be an idiot to do it myself.”

You look away, only to pour rubbing alcohol onto a clean wipe. He can’t help but be transfixed as he watches you, admiring how your dainty little hands are so delicate with the equipment. How your face appears so irritated as you perform tedious tasks such as this, but you do it regardless, and he thinks it’s sweet.

“You should be on my payroll,” he finally smiles again. “My private doctor.”

“No.” you shut him down.

“I forgot how stuck up you are. I thought you’d at least be fununtil tomorrow.”

“Be grateful I’m doing this at all.” you reply with ease. All enjoyment and giddiness over his company seems to be a distant memory as you recall the type of man he actually is. You’re grouchy and exhausted, and he’s testing your patience. “I don’t like you and I don’t like what you do. And I hate that you’re involving Megumi.”

“Lighten. Up.” he warns you.

You press the wipe quickly into his cuts, and you can’t help but smile as he winces from the abrupt stinging pain. You laugh harder as he tries to downplay it. His expression becomes unreadable as he tries to appear detached. You can see it in his visible eye, though. It’s watering.

He can’t help but break at the sound of your laughter, however, as you continue to snicker whilst rummaging through for a roll of gauze to wrap around his knuckles.

“I usually don’t crack when I do that myself. You wanted it to hurt.” he smirks, shaking his head.

“Guilty.” you continue to giggle as you face him again.

He doesn’t say another word as he watches you wrap a thick enough layer of bandages around his bloody knuckles. The somewhat shallow lacerations seem to cause slight discomfort despite being taken care of. You watch him, purposefully, as he flexes his fingers a few times to test how it feels.

You aren’t sure if he knows you’re staring, but his guard seems down. It could be an act to disarm you, but you aren’t convinced he’s a good enough actor to pull it off. The genuine curiosity and intrigue on his face due to your handiwork makes you feel off. Is he judging your ability to provide proper care?

It’s not like you wanted to.

But you both know that’s a lie.

He grins when he finally notices you staring at him. And that makes you relax. You were right, he was genuinely lost in thought despite being in your presence.

“You should go now,” you say quietly. You angle your body to rest your arm over the back of the couch, your balled fist supporting your head as you begin to yawn. “I’m tired.”

“Sure.” he nods, moving to stand before relaxing into the soft seating. “I need your number.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, ya need to give it to me sweetheart,” he smirks, mirroring your body language. “Need it so I can tell you when I wanna see you again.”

You scoff, shaking your head defiantly at his bold claim. The thought of him clicking his fingers for you to come running like a loyal lap dog is almost enough to make you gag. You’d slap him if it wasn’t so late, you’re too tired and you don’t want to cause a fuss for Megumi or your neighbours.

“You’re never gonna see me again,” you smile, biting your lip as you look him up and down. “And you’re not seeing Megumi, either. He’s done with your little fight club. And I’m done with you, period.”

“Aren’t you meant to be smart? Concerning that a doctor could be so naïve.” he squints slightly as he regards you, looking you up and down as you had him. You’re so sure of yourself, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve forgotten about your current appearance. “I’ll be seein’ you both again. Megumi isn’t quitting. And I like you, and I’m not the type of man to give up things I like.”

“Tough shit,” you laugh lightly. “You’re gonna have to find another poor woman to pester. I’ve got enough going on without dealing with a loser like you.”

“A loser? Really?” he chortles. “You were moaning on my dick and calling me daddy earlier. Now I’m a loser?”

“Shut up.”

He leans in close to you, noses almost touching and his smile widens further as he sees how glittery your face is from your poor makeup removal. “Are you only going to be nice to me when I fuck that brat out of you?”

You turn your head away, your heart racing as your body betrays you. The want and desire bubbles in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t. You know you can’t; because you promised.

He isn’t special.

Sukuna is not special.

“You’re not fucking anything out of me.” you tell him, peering out of the corner of your eye to see him look a little surprised at your declaration. He thought you were playing hard to get. You aren’t playing. “It was a one-time thing.”

“Really?” he asks, barely missing a beat as he responds. “I don’t understand you. I thought—”

“Of course you don’t understand me. You’ve known me for a few hours. Just because we’ve fucked doesn’t mean you know me.” you remind him. And he nods, he agrees with you. He’d be a fool not to, and the man is no fool. “It was just a heat of the moment mistake. I mean it. I don’t want to see you again and I’m not letting Megumi fight anymore.”

“Why?”

“Why?” you scoff. “He’s a child. It’s dangerous. I don’t want him—”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not stupid, I know why you don’t want him to fight anymore. Do I look like a moron to you?” he asks, voice gruff and harsh as he interrupts without a care. His temper is visible and rising as he begins to run out of patience for your attitude with him. “Why don’t you want to see me?”

“Because you’re shady and I don’t want to upset my brother. He’s already upset, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“Excuse m—”

“That’s a reason why Megumi doesn’t want you to see me. Yeah I’m a little shady, but you like me. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me come over here, see where and how you live, and tend my wounds like a good girl.” he sneers.

“Fine. I don’t like you and I don’t want to have a platonic relationship with a criminal. Let alone a romantic one. What happened earlier was a mistake.”

“… You’re lying.” he says, and it’s curt. You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head with an amused laugh as you digest his denial. How he can sit there and act so full of himself when you’re being perfectly clear is beyond you. It’s jarring.

You jolt as you feel thick fingers lightly grip your jaw. Your wandering gaze is now brought to him. Your eyes forced to fixate on the placid expression plastered across chiselled features.

“I see you, princess. You don’t wanna see me because you want to get mixed up with a criminal, and you’re scared of that. I see you.”

You stare at him, licking your lips not so discreetly as he continues to cradle your jaw. His lips curl at the sight of the little pink muscle slipping between your lips to wet them. You’re angry. Furious at yourself for letting him touch you, hold you, like this. And you hate yourself, right now. Maybe even more than you hate him, too.

Because he’s right.

Your lack of action gives him cause to stare down at your shimmering lips, it’s a warning. A silent announcement for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t let go, but his head tilts. He leans in closer to you, daring to give you what you both know you want.

And again, he’s thwarted.

You turn away, unable to look at him right after this time.

“… You should go, now.” you tell him.

He sighs, but pulls away. You almost mewl as his thumb softly swipes across your chin. And when he withdraws it, you feel your body fill with loneliness. Your skin feels colder.

And it hurts, because he’s on the right track. You’re pushing him away because of Megumi. But deep down, as much as you crave him right now, you know it’s the right thing to do. You jolt a little as he abruptly stands up from the couch, the breeze from his movement makes you freeze.

He sees it.

“Go to bed, you’ll warm up.” he says bluntly before making his way towards the front door. He stops as he grabs the handle, holding up his bloodied knuckles. “Thank you, for the first aid.”

“It’s… it’s fine. No problem. Goodnight, S-Sukuna.” you say, cursing yourself for the audible whine in your words despite your attempted conviction. You watch him as he grabs the handle before turning to face you again.

“Come with me.” he tells you, curling the tip of his index finger. “I need to give you something, don’t argue. For once.” he demands.

You’re compelled to follow, in spite of his demeaning way of summoning you. You truly don’t want him to leave, you don’t want him to go, so any extra time you can spend with him, you’ll take.

He walks ahead of you, leaving you shivering in the doorway as you try and preserve any warmth you can. He opens the door to his car and turns around, a little bewildered that you aren’t right behind him. It makes you giggle to see him look around in search of you before he finally spots you still at the front door.

“Come here.”

You close the door and rush to his side, quickly looking back to make sure Megumi isn’t looking for you. He rests his arm atop the roof of his Mercedes, before holding out a small piece of paper between his fingers to you.

It’s a business card.

“What kind of thug needs a business card?” you ask before you even think about what you’re saying. He scoffs, squinting at you.

“You’ve only fucked me once, you don’t know me.” he smirks. And at that, you can’t help but laugh. “What you said… makes it seem like we’ll learn more about each other if we keep fucking.”

“I don’t want to know you, Sukuna.” you sigh, reluctant to keep up the charade. Reluctant to keep pretending he doesn’t excite you. To keep pretending the few hours you’ve spent with him haven’t been the liveliest your life has been in years. Maybe ever, really. “I can’t be selfish, you don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised.” he says, abruptly. “Why did you follow me out here if you don’t want to know me?”

“Because you asked me to, you said you wanted to give me something…”

“You could have said no. Do you always do what people tell you? You wanted to. I wanted you to. And now you’re here, you have my number. If you want to be selfish… you know where I am.”

“I don’t—” you sigh, shivering aggressively before you push his card back into his chest. “I don’t need this.”

He grabs your wrist hellbent on sending you away with this one little piece of the puzzle of his life. A way to talk to him again if you change your mind. He’s giving you access, he wants you to take it, desperately.

He crouches down, levelling his head with your own so his one, uncovered eye is levelled with yours. He can’t help but smile, it’s almost maniacal, as he watches your resolve falter under his glare.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, kid.” he grins. “And you’re not all that smart, for a doctor.”

Your face burns with heat. And you can’t tell if it’s rage or lust. Do you want to kiss him or kill him? You don’t know, you don’t know. His smile grows wider as he realises what he’s done to you. Your faces are so close to each other and this time you can’t will yourself to turn away. You can’t submit, not after this.

“I’m smarter than you.” is all you can think to say. It feels pathetic and phoned in. And he reads it, too, by the ever-growing look of amusement on his face.

“I don’t doubt that.” he nods. “What’s got you all hot ‘n bothered, hm? ‘Cause I called you a dumb li’l doctor? Or ‘cause daddy, called you kid?”

You feel your face sear further. So much so you can even detect each and every drop of sweat beading at your hairline. You’d forgotten it was freezing outside, instead trying to find a way to subtly cool yourself.

“You d-didn’t even call me dumb. I’m not.” you say, stuttering over yourself like a true idiot as you try and gain some semblance of composure through this agonising conversation.

He closes the already small distance between you, placing his hand on the small of your back and pulling you towards him. Your eyes flutter closed under his as he examines you. His head tilting and turning, forcing himself in your line of view.

“I am learning more about you. Should we fuck about it, sweetheart?”

“What are you—”

“Do I remind you of your old man, hah? I bet that’s it… was daddy never proud of you?” he chuckles darkly, carding his fingers through your hair as he stares down at you. “S’that why you like me, darlin?”

“Shut up.” you respond, voice meek and pathetic as you wrestle with your will and want. His fingers lace through your hair, delicately holding the crown of your head before you find yourself being pulled closer still. His lips ghost yours, and he’s a tease. He’s such a fucking tease.

“Got a thing for older guys who talk to you like shit… I see it. Get too much respect at your little doctor job all day. Do you like being talked down to, hm? No wonder you like a thug like me.”

“You don’t know what you’re— You d-don’t even know.”

“Yeah? I don’t?” he asks, his tone melodious and teasing. His head tilts back, the feel of his lips intensely teasing yours soon broken as he does. But you look up to him, eyes full of anguish and sorrow like a kicked puppy who doesn’t know what it wants. You hate him and the reason is clear.

You don’t hate him at all.

You just hate that he’s right.

“I think I’m right. I think you’ve got daddy issues, and you like it when I call you kid.” you turn away as he speaks. But almost as quickly as you do, he’s forcing you to look at him again. His ruby eye flaring, an expression all of its own. A warning, a look of command. A look of lust. “Am I right, baby? Is your little cunt soaked ‘cause I call you kid?”

“… I have to go.” you say, quietly.

“Sure.” he smirks.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelms you as you recognise in his smile that you’ve done this dance before. You can’t move and you can’t speak. There is no desire in you to leave him now and return to your home, your bed, like you should.

All you can do is stare. Your eyes fixated on the man who has just read you like a book. His amused expression doesn’t falter. He’s patient, surprisingly. You wouldn’t have painted him as a man with patience. But looking at him now, you know he’d be willing to wait all night if he had to. He’d wait for the sun to rise just to prove a point.

But he doesn’t need to.

You lunge forward, your hand cupping his face as you break the boiling tension between you and seal your acceptance with a scalding kiss.

He won.

He told you before, he doesn’t lose.

Your lips suctioning and pecking at his would make you embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. He welcomes it, too, meeting yours with just as much urgency. He wraps his arms around your back as you slip your tongue between his lips, allowing them to tangle and swirl in a passionate encounter.

He chuckles into it as you curse. Curse him, curse his name. You can’t believe he’s reduced you to this, again. Your heart heaves in your chest, and you break away just to instruct him.

“Open the fucking back door.”

He laughs again, keeping hold of you as he guides you in a way he can carry on kissing you and still do as he’s told. He ducks in first, pulling you in with him right after. You grind your hips against his heavy bulge as he closes the door after you. He looks up to admire you, to adore you.

“You smeared your makeup like a fucking idiot so I wouldn’t fuck you,” he laughs. “And look at you, humping my cock like a desperate little pet.”

“Shiiiit, I forgot I’m a mess.” you sigh, though you don’t really care. You wrap your arms around his neck, keening as his heavy palms grip your thighs press you flush against his body. “This is the last time. I m-mean it.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” he says, smugly.

You dismiss it, too enamoured by the feeling of his bulge alone as you continue to grind down hard and purposefully onto him. He’s relaxed, allowing you to take the lead and go at your own pace.

It’s embarrassing, really, you’re not as experienced as he seems to be. He’s older. And you hate to admit it, wiser. When it comes to encounters such as this, anyway. You’re smart and well read, sure, but casual hook ups are foreign to you.

You’ll keep that to yourself for as long as you can, you can’t think of anything worse than giving Sukuna that little tidbit of information about you. That he is only the third guy you’ve fucked.

He hit the nail on the head back at the club, but you can’t let him know that.

“Let me feel.” he mutters. His hand holds your hip to keep you in place. Another snakes down into your sleep shorts, his mouth falls open with an amused chuckle as he touches you. “Still full’a me, baby. Bet I’ll slide right in.”

His fingers play with your pussy without any real goal. And still, it makes you delirious. He smears the evidence of your previous tryst around your folds, and he watches with conviction as his fingers circle your clit.

He withdraws them, briefly, to move your shorts into the crease of your thigh. You watch him, and he doesn’t take his eye off you, either. Your lower lip droops as you admire him. Truthfully, you’ve never been in the presence of someone so domineering as him. He is the true definition of a red-blooded male.

Sukuna is huge. In the literal sense, he is unnaturally tall. His build is enormous, his hand is larger than your face. But his aura alone is enough to fill an entire room with an ambience that he sees fit. He could instil fear into the minds of men just because he wills it.

Unfortunately for you, you are not immune to his will.

“You’re so pent up darlin’, you must work hard. Y’need to relax… no wonder you can’t keep your hands off me.” he says. It could be read as demeaning. You think it should be. And yet, you don’t detect any malice from him. He makes a show of spitting on his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as the ‘ptuh’ sound leaves his lips. It makes you shudder.

Though when he touches you with such purpose, so lewdly, a whine you never knew you could make leaves your lungs. He looks up at you like you hung every star in the sky as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. The ‘shlick’ suctioning sounds of your already tainted walls couldn’t possibly be any louder.

He sees how embarrassed you are, but he doesn’t care. Your nose crinkles and your eyes close softly. He curls his fingers and his palm flattens against your clit. And you cry out for him, lurching forward as you wrap your arms around his head rather than his neck. He’s surprised to see your hips rock against his touches, riding his fingers like it’s the only contact you’ve ever known.

His free hand reaches up to tug down your vest. His tongue is flat and wide as he sticks it out to lick your bare tits. He isn’t rough, he isn’t aggressive, he isn’t rushing. He sensually swirls his tongue over your nipples, breathing heavily on occasion before he kisses them. You whimper when he sporadically skims his teeth across them. There’s no bite. No effort. He just wants to hear you cry for him like that. It’s like his teeth are barely there, just enough that you know they are.

“Do you touch yourself?” he mumbles against your skin. You can’t bear to look at him after hearing that. You pretend you didn’t, moaning louder as a diversion. It’s fruitless, and apparently you aren’t a good actress. He yanks your hair and forces you to look at him. His fingers stop, and your body writhes from the loss. “Don’t do that again. Answer me.”

“S-Sukuna…” you fuss. The feeling of your building pleasure being torn away from you is making you stupid. It’s pathetic. And yet, in spite of how humiliating it is, you’re still rolling your hips in a bid to get the feeling back. His expression falters to one you can’t read. You think it’s annoyance, but it’s so detached and expressionless. You yelp as he withdraws his fingers completely, with no time to feel the loss when he grabs your face with his slick-coated hand.

“I want to know if you make your pretty pussy cum after a hard day at work.” he says calmly, a low rumble in his chest as the words roll plainly from his tongue. Your eye contact falters as you notice him pulling at his sweatpants in search of his aching length. “And I want you to show me how you touch her. So go on, answer my question.”

“I… I—” you stumble. You watch him intensely as he frees his throbbing cock. He wraps his fist around himself and lazily strokes. He still glares at your features. While you’re utterly captivated by his cock.

It looks so angry. Too pretty and perfect to be real, you think. But somehow, it is. You think he’d be better suited as a porn star than a criminal with an asset like that. He spends an extra second squeezing his length just below the tip when he strokes himself, it’s like he’s ringing all of the pre out that he can. It dribbles out of his slit, coating his tip the more he summons. It’s beguiling.

You suppose you hadn’t really had a chance to admire him back at the club. It was so heated and hasty. Now, it’s purposeful. You look at his face again when you realise this is what he wants. He wanted you to look at how he touches himself and how gorgeous his cock is. He wants you to see how big he is and how much he aches and throbs when he needs to be buried in a sweet little cunt.

He wants the memory of this to stain your mind.

“I d-don’t.” you confess. “Not much… I’m always tired. Busy.”

“Mhmm… I can tell.” he nods, his voice is somewhat sympathetic. “Come here, princess. Sit on it.”

His hand grips into your hip while he lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him, you don’t hesitate. You let him push you down, you eagerly suck him in. Your eyes roll back as you feel him swell through your walls. Even after taking him earlier, you’d forgotten how monstrous he feels inside. And this time, somehow, he feels bigger.

“Fu-uck,” you gasp as his tip immediately nudges at your sweet spot. You hold his shoulders and hope he’ll assist you. The thought of disappointing him makes you anxious. The idea of him knowing how inexperienced you really are makes you sick.

He throws his head back as your hole swallows him greedily. He looks at you through a heavy-lidded stare, and relief fills you as his hands grab the fat of your ass. You moan pathetically as he spreads them. But his ultimate goal is to bounce you on his cock. You feel weightless in his hands as he helps you. Each steep drop down onto his length makes your throat tight.

He's there.

You feel him there.

“Play with yourself, go on. Rub her f’me.” he says lethargically.

And your face feels like fire. The foreplay was gasoline and his command is a match. And yet, out of fear of him withholding pleasure from you again, you comply. Your hand slithers between your thighs and you do all you can to pretend you’re elsewhere.

You try and pretend you’re in your room, in your bed. What usually gets you going is a mildly heated scene from a movie or TV show. The sexual tension of an almost kiss makes your face flush, though a lot less than it is now. And you think it’s unbearable to witness sexual tension and not see any resolve, so you scamper to find a video online to suit your needs. Something quick and short as you reach into your nightstand to find your favourite toy.

The thought of being caught by your brother makes you sick so you have to be fast with it. The website you ordered it from assured the toy would be whisper quiet. And you can only hope it’s true. You don’t touch yourself, not without aid. And even then, it’s sparse. You haven’t rubbed your clit with your own fingers in years.

Years of being riled up and having a useless boyfriend who didn’t know what he was doing lead you to finishing yourself off each and every time. And you knew, the moment you got a job and your own income, you’d buy yourself a vibrator.

It’s hard to pretend Sukuna isn’t here, though. It’s hard to pretend you’re in your room with Netflix playing quietly enough in the background it can still cover the sound of soft core moaning from your phone while you vibrate yourself to completion.

Because his cock fills your each and every thought. Every sense you possess is dominated by him. The feel of him stretching you out beyond your limit and repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. The sound of the sticky tacking of his length as he slams you up and down on his pulsing member.

Your vision alternates between his gorgeous gaze and the point where your bodies connect again and again. Your pussy gushes slick and the evidence of your prior combined coupling stains your inner thighs and his crotch.

The scent of your sex fills the car and the heat of your sweaty bodies exacerbates it. Your skin is damp, as is his. And it’s overwhelming. He groans into a chuckle as you moan louder and louder for him. If anyone happens to be awake at this ungodly hour, they’ll no doubt hear you. If anyone looks out of the window, they’ll see how the car rocks back and forth. It turns you on further. The tang of sweat and arousal filling the car. It makes you lightheaded.

“I can— fuck— c-can taste you, daddy…” you whine. He urges you to fall forward so he can kiss you. It forces you to take over, moving your hips on your own as you try and maintain your building pleasure. “You’re too big… can feel you in my throat, Sukuna… tastes so good.”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” he smirks, kissing you again. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Not the good girl you pretend to be, hah?”

You nod, agreeing. He’s right, after all. You’re talking in a way you didn’t know you had in you. He takes over again, holding your rear so he can take full control of your body. He guides you repeatedly until your eyes cross from the pleasure. Your walls tighten, and your throat feels hoarse as you cry out for him.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, kid. Don’t be shy. Cum for daddy.” he encourages you.

You cry, at that. Falling forwards to envelop him in your arms as you come undone. He coos, sweetly, kissing your cheeks and licking away your tears. The feeling isn’t lost on you, the feeling of disgust. You’ve never felt happiness or value like you did just now. Realising how right he was about your issues and using them to subdue you.

Your pussy gushes and he moans further, chest roaring as he finally lets his sight drop to see what a pretty mess you’ve made of yourself.

Made of him.

Made for him.

He pushes his thumb into your clit and rubs quickly, further extending your pleasure through it all. You could just about cum again when you feel him shoot another load into you, his warmth filling your womb for the second time today. It makes you feel special. It makes you feel loved.

The very idea of it has you pushing yourself away from him desperately. But he holds you close. His moans are boisterous and uncaring. It’s loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, you think. And at the very least, you’re sure Megumi will hear if he doesn’t have his headphones on.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor of the car as he fucks himself into you. He’s sure to empty every last drop into your cunt, his balls slap against your ass as he ploughs into you furiously.

And when he stops, you freeze. You feel cold. You feel filthy.

He doesn’t discard you or try to kick you out. The opposite, really. He’s still holding you close, lightly peppering your chilled skin with kisses. Eventually stopping to rest his head on your chest. He feels you try to move away, but he only holds you tighter.

So you stop trying to leave. And instead, you run your fingers through his hair. He hums contently, at that. And you feel your heart pound harder, a little smile works its way onto your face.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

That thought alone makes you stop. He looks up at you, his stare soft and gentle as he wonders what made you halt your actions so abruptly. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you move to leave.

“I have to go, I really have to go now.” you say bluntly. He huffs, watching as you scramble to put your clothes back in place, clambering off him in a hurry. He doesn’t say anything in response. He watches as you scramble to open the door. Tears of panic begin to fall as you struggle to open it, you frantically pull and push as you try to get away. He leans over, and with little effort, he opens the door for you.

“Goodbye.” he says, simply.

“G-Goodbye.” you respond, ducking out and briskly walking to your front door.

You take a deep breath when you get there, preparing for the possibility that Megumi is about to greet you and bite your head off. Sukuna doesn’t move. He stays in the back seat and watches you with a sombre expression. With no inclination of what happened to change your mood, he can only assume he stepped out of line.

He doesn’t want to leave just yet. At least not until he knows you’re safely inside.

As you grab the handle of the door and push, your heart sinks.

“No, no, no… d-don’t do this to me now.” you sob, hysterically fiddling and pushing the door. You stupidly think that you just need to try harder and it will open. But no such thing comes to pass. You’ve locked yourself out.

Sukuna sits upright when he realises, watching as you slowly turn to look at him. His hand folds, gesturing for you to come closer. And with no other option, you do. Your phone is inside as well as your car keys. You can’t text Megumi to tell him what you’ve done. And even if you could, he’d only come outside to see that you’ve let him down. Again.

“Silly girl.” he says, looking at you with a weak smile when you finally approach. You duck down to look at him, not willing to get inside with him. “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll bring you back in the morning.” he suggests.

“I’m not fucking—”

“You can stay in a different room.” he answers your obvious assumption with a reasonable response. And still…

“N-No. I don’t want to go to your house.”

“Then I guess we’re sleeping in the car. Come on.” he sighs. He waits until you get in, begrudgingly, and then gets out himself. You watch him as he circles to the trunk of his car, looking ahead at your home as you wait for him to return. And he does, with a large, fur blanket.

“Why do you have this?” you wonder.

“I don’t remember. You better not be complaining, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t fuck off right after I came like I usually do. Especially after that little performance.”

“Performance?!” you yell. You position yourself as far away from him as you can in the confined space, sitting as closely to the door as you can. “You just don’t get it! At all.”

“You’ve made that clear, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll steer clear when you get back inside tomorrow. I’m too old to be playing stupid games with little girls who don’t know what they want.”

You huff, covering your legs with the blanket before folding your arms.

“I told you it was a mistake.” you correct him. “I told you I didn’t want to see you or do that again.”

“Shut up.” he shakes his head. “Just go to sleep and we’ll never have to see each other again. Because that’s what you want, yes?”

You pause before speaking. Images of his delicate expression in your arms haunt you. You’d overreacted because of your own cowardice. Because of a promise you evidently had no intention of keeping. It wasn’t a performance. It was just… fear.

“Yes.” you tell him. Your response is bold and scathing.

He doesn’t react, he merely shrugs, adjusting the blanket over his own legs, too. His arms cross over his chest, and his head rests against the window. You can’t see beyond his eye covering, but you assume his visible eye is closed.

You do the same, hoping you fall asleep sooner rather than later.

You’re wrong, though.

His eye is open wide, looking upwards to the light polluted sky. There are a few stars visible, three. He stares at them, thinking about the events of the evening. He hadn’t expected to end up fucking once tonight let alone twice. But when you walked into his club and tried to give him a piece of your mind, he knew.

He knew he’d have to have you.

And he hadn’t expected to be so lucky so have you again, like this. But he can’t put his finger on why things went so sour. It could be one thing or a number of things. He has ideas. He thinks your less complicated than you seem to think you are. You’re keeping him at arm’s length, and that, he understands.

He’s a stranger, but he doesn’t have to be.

He doesn’t want to be.

But what can he do?

He’ll just stare at the stars until he drifts off to sleep.

Maybe things will be different in the morning.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

chapter one | m.list | chapter three

[icyminghao]

asking seventeen what they would do if you became a cockroach — hyung line ver.

pairing: seventeen (hyung line) x gn!reader genre: idk what this is honestly

inspired by going seventeen ep. 79: going vol. 2 #1

maknae line ver.

SEUNGCHEOL

he’ll whine and ask you why you’re asking him such a random question

eventually thinks it over after some convincing from you

would probably not care

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

“Baby, it’s 2AM,” Seungcheol drawls, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You whine. “But this is a life or death question, Cheol, I need to know!”

Seungcheol removes his head from its spot on your neck to narrow his eyes at you sleepily, though you can’t see him. He sighs, snuggling into you.

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t care. It’s you, after all.”

“That’s gross, Cheol.”

JEONGHAN

raises his eyebrow at you in amusement

will give you the goofiest of answers and nothing short of that

you can never take him seriously bc he’s just goofy like that

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?” you ask, looking up at him with your head on his lap.

Jeonghan purses his lips together to pretend he’s thinking over it seriously, when you know for a fact that he’s thinking of the goofiest answer possible (you can see it on his face).

“I’ll probably keep you,” he starts, stroking your hair. “you can sleep beside Doljjongie, and I’ll dress you up and make an Instagram account for you. You’ll be a sensation.”

JOSHUA

the moment you ask that question, you can see the gears turning in his head

he’s been waiting for this

would probably give you an unexpected answer like the insane goofball he is

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

A smile makes its way onto Joshua’s face, and you can practically hear his thoughts forming.

“Well, I’d probably add you to my cockroach collection and make all of you fight each other in a ring.” Joshua replies with a shit-eating grin, and you grimace.

“And if I died?”

“You won’t! I’ll get you out before you do. If you do. I’m not underestimating your cockroach fighting skills.”

JUNHUI

would probably laugh about it bc he thought you weren’t being serious

mouth morphs into an “o” once he realises that you are, in fact, very serious

probably thinks this is some kind of boyfriend test so he lies (💀)

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

“That’s really funny, y/n, why would you become a cockroach?” Junhui replies, chuckling. You huff at him, pouting, and Junhui sighs.

“Well… I’d probably not treat you any different…?”

“Stop lying, Junhui!”

“I’m sorry babe, I’d probably kill you.”

SOONYOUNG

he loves that you asked him this

would probably start imagining it actually happening and start spiraling into rambles

you’d have to stop him before he gets too excited and actually starts manifesting for it to happen

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Soonyoung’s eyes light up at the question, and you watch as he slowly bursts into a fit of giggles.

“It’ll be soooo cute, baby, I’ll carry you around in my little pouch, and we would go to the zoo, and, oh my god, you could probably go into the tiger enclosure! You could help me say hi-”

“You’re so goofy, Soonie,” you laugh, cutting him off with a peck on the lips. “I guess I’ll have to pray for my life if I actually turn into a cockroach.”

WONWOO

probably takes the question very seriously, much to your amusement

is afraid of offending you with his answer, so he tries to be cautious at first

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?” you ask, staring at the ceiling.

You don’t hear a reply for at least two minutes, so you turn to look at Wonwoo, only to see him pondering on the question like you’d asked him something serious.

“Wonu, why are you taking it so seriously?” you giggle, nudging his shoulder. “Come on, hit me with your best answer.”

“I’d probably keep you,” Wonwoo replies, “maybe find a sorcerer to turn you back.”

“Or…” Wonwoo drawls, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “Seol may get to you first.”

JIHOON

would probably question you, but he loves you too much

thinks it over seriously

probably won’t kill you (like in the gose ep ahhhh)

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Jihoon stifles a laugh. “That’s pretty random.”

You nudge him from where you’re seated on the couch, and Jihoon hums.

“I guess I won’t kill you,” he muses, and you smile.

“Though I’d probably ban you from the bed.”

a/n: might delete this when i wake up i’m running on 1am fumes rn i thought it was goofy

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua

masterlist

[astropookie]

short asteroid observations

nhidi

*whole sign + tropical

Cupido (763) 9H says you are attracted to someone you can learn a lot from, someone foreign, not necessarily in an obvious way but when’s about different perspective/mindset. also you could not fall easily? They have to look/think “different”. you could like dorks. you want to be understood, to debate.

Aphrodite (1388) 8H have this desire of being taken care of, to everyone be obsessed with them and they are but people it’s too scared and intimidated by their strong and mysterious aura, so they’re likely to be the goddess who seems unapproachable/too good to be true. they could feel lonely bc of these and they LOVE the power and influence they have on others.

Luda (1158) at 12° (pisces degree)/trine neptune are recognized by being artsy, in their own world, kind of hippie or full of creativity/imagination and with other world perspectives. I have these placement + aspect and EVERY TIME, people from every age recognize/identify me as the characteristics I mentioned. They have asked me if my family it’s full of artists bc I have that “vibe”. Asteroid “Luda” means “love of the people”, and being love by people could be interpreted as recognized -my interpretation-.

Narcissus (37117) conjunct Mercury could mean being too self absorbed about your mindset and opinions, “thinking your way of thinking is too good to be true”. I don’t really think narcissus have this effect permanently-duh😝-, it shows how at some point you are like this. you could have difficulties listening to others perspectives that can help you. you could have serious problems of trying to understand others, in this life you’ll have to learn no one thinks like you, even though your you from a moment ago, I don’t think they’ll think the same or etc., so don’t explode your mind trying so hard to have an answer on why others aren’t/think like you bc they won’t. also, your mindset it’s not correct or perfect so don’t frustrate about stuff you can’t control.

Bellona (28) trine ascendant, again, can tell people thought you were a total bitch -when they didn’t know you-, if they get in your way you’ll fuck them up without a doubt. I’m proud to say it’s not only appearance or supposition, once they know you they’ll still say you’ll fuck them up equally. Bellona is about someone who isn’t afraid of standing up for what they believe.

I was wondering why lately I’ve been so obsessed with this guy, then I checked my composite chart with him and saw Lovelock (51663) 12H. So practically it could signify this is a past life situation and I can’t fucking let go. I’m so tired 😭 idgaf if he’s obsessed with me, I want action and he’s not giving it and I’m afraid to be the one starting it -it’s different with guys and bc of him? idk 😒-. I feel stuck. HELP. also is conjunct Chiron so I have to learn about it? DONT. Chiron give me a break, no, I’m joking, I’m saying nothing. 12H means it’s gonna hit in a subconscious level…and it’s gonna be a secret?😭 -I don’t want to believe this-, so neither of us is gonna do something? FUCK

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ��₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡ (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

♡ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

♡ English is not my first language.

♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #13 - the massage

kai parker x reader

summary: kai's sure he'll win the bet. you're positive he won't.

tags: massage, teasing, clingy!kai, minor mention of murder (bc it's kai)

word count: 835

a/n: idk why i'm in my cheesy fluff era of writing, but here's more

“Relax,” you giggle, feeling his muscles tense. 

“I’m trying! It’s weird.”

“It’ll feel so much better if you stop moving around.”

“What are you even doing?”

“Trying to help you relax.”

Kai sighs, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. Nevertheless, he stops adjusting his position and takes a deep breath.

“There you go.”

He mumbles something incomprehensible, but you don’t respond. After a second, you start again. The massage tool in your hand makes a slightly squeaky sound as you run it up his back. You make circles on his shoulder blades, then inch up to his neck. He shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Kai!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know!”

“Pick one. Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Don’t stop. I like it, it’s just weird.”

“I can be more gentle.” You do, but he only mumbles more.

“Now I can’t feel it at all.”

“Well then you’re going to have to sit still.”

“I just… what are you even holding?” Without much warning, he flips around to face you. The massage roller in your hand receives a weird stare that makes you laugh. “What even is that?”

“It’s a little tool that helps you relax by easing the knots in your neck and back. Now do you want me to continue, or not?”

“Where do you buy something like that?”

“Literally anywhere. Dollar Tree. Target.”

“I’ve never seen that in my life.”

“Your life has never lived in this decade, Malachai. You lived in the nineties for twenty years.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying! Things are different now. We have massage rollers.”

“Weird.”

“Unless you’d prefer to go to an actual massage person, but I bet you’d chicken out.”

He gives you a look. “Me? Chicken out? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Um, yes, actually. I’m talking to someone who would absolutely chicken out if anyone but me was touching them.”

“Bet you twenty dollars you’re wrong.”

“You don’t even have twenty dollars.”

“Yes I do.”

“From where? You-”

“Borrowed some the other day.”

“Borrowed?”

“Stole,” he corrects.

“You- Kai!”

“It’s okay! He was using it anymore!”

“Now why’s that? Is he dead?”

“...Maybe.”

“Kai, you can’t-”

“He shouldn’t have made that comment about you within my earshot. He had it coming.”

“Good lord, boy.”

“So twenty dollars I can get through this message-”

“Massage.”

“-thing you’re talking about. I win, you owe me.”

“Probably won’t happen.”

“Guess we’ll see.”

You’ll admit, Kai being anywhere without you gives you an extreme amount of anxiety. Not only because he’s a sociopathic serial killer, but also because you’re overprotective of him almost to a fault. Despite his bully-like attitude to many, he’s a child at heart. He’s gone through so much to make him the way he is, starting in early childhood, and you can’t bear for him to have anymore trauma. It’s probably toxic, thinking of him in such an endearing way, but you can’t help it. You love him. 

“It’ll be one hour, okay?” The massage therapist says as she takes him back. You nod your head at her and Kai’s little wink, then she brings him to the back. 

He bonded to you immediately. Maybe it was because you could see past the bad boy persona he donned on to gain respect. Maybe it was because you were the first to give him a second chance after the merge. Regardless of the reason, he learned you were a person he could trust, so he did. And even though all your friends tell you you’re brave to be friends with such a dangerous person, you’re there for him anyway. He’s pretty sure he loves you, even though he’s afraid to admit it. 

You pull out your phone to pass the time with a game, but no more than ten minutes later, the therapist returns to the waiting room. She catches your attention with a cough, to which you look up questioningly. 

“He’s asking for you,” she says. “I think he’s nervous.”

A little smile creeps on your face at the knowledge that you’ve won. You were right, and he was so determined he could beat you. “Okay.”

She brings you to the room where he’s lying down on the table. You can’t see his face until he pops up slightly to look at you. 

“Hi.”

“Hi there.”

Neither of you bring up the bet. Boy, he does look nervous. A non-joking Kai is a worried Kai, and for a split second, you wonder just how bad of an idea this is. 

“Can you just stay here?”

“Of course.”

“I’m gonna need you to relax,” the woman says, seeing the tension in his muscles before even touching him. 

You take his hand in hopes to reassure him. A little squeeze elicits a deep breath, and a lot of the strain drops. 

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

He shakes his head despite the awkward position on his stomach. “No,” he mutters, rather muffled, “just them.”

[bunitivity]

I don't know if you've answered something similar but do you have any ZoLuSanUso headcanons for when they're sick? (Let's ignore canon for a moment, I know none of these monsters actually ever get sick, but that's no fun! We want angst, and hurt and comfort!)

No I’ve not lol but sure I can give some hcs. Out of the four of them I feel like Usopp would be the most likely to say anything if he got sick followed by Luffy and then Sanji and then Zoro who I believe wouldn’t even know if he was sick. He would just say something like I’ve been feeling weaker lately better up my training and then train harder like an idiot.

Sanji would be coming over with some refreshments and be like wait you’re breathing weird and you’re all red are you okay?/that’s what happens when you train maybe you should try it some time and then before Sanji has a chance to give a scathing respond Zoro just fkn collapses in front of everyone. Luffy would be fkn inconsolable thinking he’s dying bc anything that can fell someone like Zoro must be fatal and Usopp tries to explain that it’s just his hubris catching up to him and this is what happens when you train shirtless in the fucking cold.

Zoro would be the worst sick person bc he’d insist he’s fine and try to sneak out of the infirmary any chance he gets which is why it’s a good thing he has three boyfriends who can take shift to prevent that from happening. Though they don’t really need to take shifts bc Luffy won’t leave his side and is there under the covers with him fiercely holding him which was fine at first until it becomes too hot and it gets uncomfortable. Zoro is dying but would rather die before saying anything so it’s Sanji who has to break it to Luffy.

“You know I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing I’ve heard the easiest way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it,” Usopp points out.

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Usopp darling my love,” Sanji pinches his nose. “I love you but please don’t encourage this. At this rate they’re both going to get sick and then we’ll have two ppl to take care of.”

“And here I thought you’d do anything for the people you love,” Zoro opens up the blanket. “Are you really going to let something like a measly cold stop you?”

Sanji sees the space Zoro opens up for him and the way Luffy looks so snuggly by his side and takes a step towards them and almost falls for it until Usopp snatches his wrist. Zoro clicks his tongue.

Usopp sighs. “God you’re so easy. I can’t believe you’d let him bait you like that.”

Sanji flushes. “What? No! I wasn’t going to fall for it! I was just going to check his temperature and nothing else!”

“Sure babe,” Usopp says. “Sanji you’re the cook you’re the last person we need getting sick please don’t let this idiot tempt you.”

“Yeah which is why Usopp should join us!” Luffy rises in the bed and grabs Usopp’s hand. “Double the people means Zoro would get better even faster!”

And then he drags him into bed.

“Wait Luffy! Ugh Zoro you’re so sweaty! Gross!”

Zoro just smiles before plastering himself all over Usopp making it that much worse. “Oi stop that! I fucking hate you!”

Zoro hums “sure” while Luffy just laughs. “Don’t worry Usopp you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s the last thing I want!”

“Wait wait wait,” Sanji interrupts their tomfoolery. “If Usopp sleeps here then who am I sleeping with tonight??”

“That’s what you’re worried about? This idiot is trying to infect me with his stupid germs and that is what you’re most worried about??”

“It just gets so lonely~”

“You’ll just have to figure that out because it’s already too late for Usopp I’m afraid,” Zoro kisses Usopp’s cheek and then looks up at him through his lashes. “But the offer still stands.”

“Well-“

“Sanji!”

“Okay fine! I’ll just sleep all by myself in our big stupid bed while the three of you get to cuddle here all warm and happy.”

He does not do that and just ends up sleeping on the infirmary floor because he’s an idiot and he occasionally reaches out to touch Usopp’s hand that’s dangling over the side of the bed because he’s crazy like that.

Of course the next ones who get sick are Luffy and Usopp. It doesn’t happen right away it doesn’t even hit them at the same time. Luffy is the one who goes down first because he’s the one who spent the most time with Zoro and unlike Usopp he was willing to kiss Zoro while he was sick because he genuinely didn’t believe he would get it but he does.

Luffy does not like getting sick. Does not like how weak it makes him feel and most of all how lonely it is when his boyfriends or friends aren’t there to keep him company. Reminds him too much of being small and being sick and alone because Ace went out to hunt and he couldn’t go with him. And now he’s thinking about Ace which is a whole bag worms and fuck being alone with his thoughts like this is just torture.

So he gets extra clingy because he can’t stand being alone. And of course his boyfriends indulge him holding his hand and talking to him to distract him to keep the bad thoughts at bay.

“I’m sorry,” he’ll tell Sanji. “I should have listened to you. If had none of this would have happened. It’s okay you can go back to work I’ll be okay.”

Sanji would normally chastise him but he hears the vulnerability in his voice and just squeezes his hand and then brings it to his lips. “Nonsense, my love. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”

Luffy tears up a bit. “Even if you get sick?”

“Even if I get sick.”

Usopp would make a makeshift bed out of chairs and lay down so they’re at the same eye level and it feels like they are on the same bed even if they aren’t and reaches across the vast distance to hold his hand and make him laugh with his stories some fantastical some real(albeit exaggerated) about the things he has missed. Luffy will listen with rapt attention until he dozes off. Sometimes Usopp will fall asleep holding his hand and Zoro and Sanji have to come collect him.

Some nights Zoro will sneak in after the two others have fallen asleep. Just to watch over him and if Luffy is awake he’ll wrap him up in some sheets from head to toe to prevent himself from getting sick again and then cuddles him to sleep. Luffy is so happy despite how stuffy and uncomfortable it is. Just happy not to be alone.

——————

Sanji is just in the kitchen making breakfast one morning when Usopp comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “Sanji I think I’m getting sick.”

“You too??” He checks his forehead and sure enough Usopp’s burning up. “You guys are going down like flies. But before we tell Chopper give me one final kiss.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea.” Then he laughs at the downtrodden look on Sanji’s face and kisses him. “Guess it’s fine I don’t think it’s that serious anyway.”

It’s that serious and he ends up joining an overjoyed Luffy in the infirmary. Hurray a sick buddy!

“I really do not like how happy you are that I’m sick. Feels like a red flag.”

“What?? I’m not happy you’re sick I’m happy we’re sick together!”

“Diabolical.”

“I’ll show you diabolical!” Then he just starts kissing him all over.

Sanji is just distraught that they’re both sick now. “I haven’t gotten any Luffy kisses in so long.” Okay maybe that’s not the only thing he’s distraught about but still!

“No one’s stopping you.”

“Shut up Marimo this is all your fault! If you’d just learn to wear a shirt none of this would have happened!”

“Oh please you love it when I don’t wear a shirt.”

“When it’s hot out! …wait did you just say nothing is stopping me?” Sanji’s eyes go wide. “Don’t tell me you have been making out with Luffy this entire time!”

“What moron would do that!”

Then they get kicked out of the infirmary for being too loud.

It hits Usopp a lot harder than the other two. Because unlike his boyfriends he’s just regular person and whatever felled them straight up knocks him out. He’s delirious and barely conscious for the most of it which makes the others quite distressed. Especially Luffy who is the closest to him(proximity wise) and who ends up seeing the worst of it. He will try and talk to Usopp but only gets short responses back and sometimes they aren’t even coherent and make no sense. This just makes him even more distressed which leads to Luffy staying up all night despite also being sick and needing his rest just to watch Usopp sleep afraid that if he falls asleep Usopp will just stopped breathing. No matter how much Chopper reassures him Usopp will be fine there will be this tiny voice at the back of his head whispering what if and he just can’t risk it.

Even after Luffy gets better he’ll lie and say he is still sick just so he isn’t forced to leave. He’ll wrap around him several times cocooning him in his arms in the dead of night whispering in Usopp’s ear to please not leave him he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. And then sigh a breath of relief when he feels Usopp squeeze him back.

Sanji is just as bad as him staying up late at the infirmary not leaving until Zoro has to physically lift him and carry him out. He redoubles his efforts whipping up dish after dish that he hopes will help. Zoro often have to force to take a break. Zoro is worried too but unlike Luffy and Sanji he knows restraint(when it concerns others that are not him lol) so he ends up looking Sanji so he doesn’t overwork himself and ends up bedridden too. Two sick people are already bad enough.

Once he gets him in bed Sanji would still stay up worrying and confiding in Zoro that he’s afraid that they may not get better alluding but not outright telling him about his mother’s illness. She had been looked a lot better than Usopp and she still died and so what if the same happened to either Luffy or Usopp?? Then were would he be? Just all alone with stupid Marimo he would say all while burying his face in Zoro’s chest trembling. “Don’t be stupid they’re a lot stronger than some stupid cold they’ll both be fine In no time especially after you made that dish? What was it called again?”

He will try to distract by making him talk about those legendary dishes he learned from Iva until he falls asleep.

Zoro who’s usually so unflappable ends up infected by all Luffy’s and Sanji’s anxious energy and just ends up feeling useless since there’s nothing he can do but watch over Luffy and Usopp while they sleep and helping Luffy get out of his spirals once the waiting gets to be too much.

But because Sanji can’t be stopped(Zoro is too m he just isn’t as vocal about it) they end up sleeping in the infirmary too. Making a makeshift bed on the floor much to Chopper’s chagrin.

Usopp wakes up early one morning finally released from the ravages of his fever to see his three boyfriends in the room with him. Luffy clutching his waist and Sanji holding his hand which has started cramping from the impractical position. He looks up and makes direct eye contact with Zoro who smiles with heavy eye bags under his eyes and says “took you long enough.”

Usopp reaches out and touches his face and brings it closer so he can kiss it. “Thank you for waiting.”

There’s a little bit of a celebration once the other two wake up and everything is right with the world.

Until Sanji gets sick.

“And this is why I said you shouldn’t work so hard stupid cook.”

“Are we cursed? Is this why this keeps happening?? Feels like we’re stuck in a bad dream!”

“Don’t be stupid this is because Sanji was stupid and worked himself sick.”

“Maybe so but-Luffy!”

Luffy stops where he had been crawling into bed into Sanji’s outstretched arms who’s crooning sweet nothings to him.

“What? You can’t get sick twice from the same cold. I stayed with you even after I got better and I’m feeling just fine.”

“That cannot possibly be true.”

“You gotta admit he has a point.”

“I do not want to hear that from you patient 0. I blame you for all of this.”

Zoro just shrugs and makes Sanji scooch over.

But because there was no one there to correct them and both Zoro and Sanji agreed with Luffy outvoting Usopp 3-1 he had to let it happen. And to no one’s surprise they all got sick again.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Happy holidays, @supervalcsi! I was so excited to be your Secret Santa 🥰 I hope you enjoy your gift, a little one shot featuring our favorite boy and his dog 🫶

Treat under the cut!

and i would take a hundred years just to tell you how i feel

title from Almost Home by Keston Cobblers Club bc it was stuck in my head almost the entire time i was writing this 🤭 1.1k, friends-to-lovers, cuddling, reunion if you squint?

You woke slowly, drifting into consciousness almost lazily, and the world was so quiet, the moonlit night so calm, that for a moment you weren’t sure what woke you.

And then you heard the telltale sounds of slippered feet shuffling down the hall, the light tap of paws thudding just behind.

Your heart sank the slightest bit, and you reached for your robe, continuing the now familiar routine as you followed the sounds down the hall to the kitchen.

Your best friend since childhood, Benny DeMarco, was pacing around the dark kitchen when you caught up to him, robe clutched tight around him, Meatball already facing you, having sensed you following.

“Benny?” You said softly, and he only jumped a little before turning to face you, guilt already clear on his face.

“I woke you again.”

It wasn’t a question, but the answer was plain all the same.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N—”

The familiar apologies— ones you’ve heard every night for nearly two weeks now— are met with a shake of your head. “It’s fine, Benny, I promise.”

You took a cautious step closer, reaching down to give Meatball a scratch between the ears as you watched his reaction carefully, “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Sometimes Benny just needed to talk about his nightmares and his time overseas aloud— never going into detail, but just enough to get it out of his system— and other times he just needed you there, a physical reminder that he was home, that he was safe.

He answered with a shake of his head.

“‘M fine. Just… couldn’t get back to sleep. Woke up cold all over, you know how drafty it gets upstairs.”

His gaze drifted to the old, slightly lumpy couch in the sitting room. “Might stay out here for a bit.”

“Want some company?”

There was a beat. You’re afraid he’ll say no, that you’ll have to spend the rest of the night straining your ears from your bedroom for any noise because you know you won’t be able to sleep knowing he’s like this, but then:

“That would be nice, Y/N. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” You said softly, “You know that, Benny.”

Meatball curled up on the carpet next to the old grey-green couch as Benny laid down, his eyes falling on what the blanket you had taken from the arm of the couch had been hiding.

“Oh man, I forgot that was still there,” he laughed, brown eyes shining in the moonlight.

There was a stain on the arm of the couch, slightly faded, but not going away anytime soon— a mark of the first and last time Mrs. DeMarco had let you and her son partake in her specialty hot chocolate in her living room instead of at the table.

“Oh goodness, that’s right,” you laughed, “Your ma was furious at us—”

“I don’t know why she was mad at me,” he raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who thought it would be funny to steal my cup right out of my hands.”

“Well if you had just shared, like I asked you to—”

“You had your own mug!”

Your laughter turned into telling story after story from your shared childhood, and something in your heart lightens, seeing some of the boy you knew before the war return to his face.

The lightness turns into a flutter, which you tamp down quickly, cursing the way your feelings for your dearest friend seemed to constantly remind you of their existence at the most inopportune times.

“Hey, c’mere.”

“Hm?”

You turned, seeing Benny squashed up against the back of the couch, patting the open space beside him.

“If you’re gonna stay out here, I’m not watching you sit like that all night. I can see you shivering.” He looked sternly at the way you were perched on the edge of the couch, giving him as much space as possible, “Just come here. Please.”

The stern look melted away, leaving just those pleading puppy dog eyes Benny DeMarco was criminally good at— ones that could even put Meatball’s to shame, and have you relenting with a sigh.

You slot neatly against him, your back pressed to his front, and after just a moment’s hesitation, his hand slips around to rest just hovering over your stomach. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest at your back, his gentle breaths against the back of your neck making the hairs there stand up.

There’s a long silence, the only sound in the room your harmonizing breaths. You think Benny’s finally fallen asleep until he speaks, his voice a murmur barely audible in the near-silent house.

“I thought about you all the time when I was over there.”

A familiar refrain, you reply the same way you always do.

“Me too.”

You expect the conversation to end there, but Benny goes off-script.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you before I left. And then… well, I didn’t, and I wanted to tell you a thousand times while I was gone, but I figured you deserved better than hearing it in a letter. And then when I got back…”

His voice falters, and a faint glimmer of hope flickers to life in the back of your mind. He isn’t talking about… He couldn’t be. Could he?

A soft, self-deprecating chuckle escapes him as he continues in that whisper-soft voice.

“I’ve wanted to tell you a thousand times since I’ve been home, but…” He takes a steeling breath, letting it out in a huff of warm air that you feel against your neck.

“Turns out it’s hard to tell your best friend you’re in love with her when she’s right in front of you. So here I am, doing it in the dark and… kind of hoping you’re asleep, honestly, so I can call this a practice run and do it properly later, but if you’re not….”

Your breath hitches, and here in the dark with Benny pressed warm against your back, you’re not entirely sure you’re not dreaming.

Slowly, you shift around to face him, noses brushing with your proximity on the small couch. You can’t make out much of him— he’s not much more than slices of light and shadow at this time of night, sparkling brown eyes turned a deep grey in the darkness.

You speak in a trembling voice, hardly daring to hope.

“Benny,” you breathe, doing your best to meet his eyes, “Do you really— you mean it?”

”Yeah,” he says simply, softly. “I do.”

There’s no need for words as your hand cups his cheek, thumb stroking gently along his skin. No words as you slowly lean in, noses brushing, the distance between you slowly lessening until it’s nonexistent, and with his mouth on yours in the dark of the living room, on that damn lumpy couch, Benny melts.

He’s home.

[fancyfeathers]

@luckycharm1 asked a question

Hello! I’m pretty bad when it comes to tumblr etiquette since i do not understand how it completely works, but I hope its alright to send you this 😭 Regarding your previous post I wonder what would happen if the intelligent daughter ended up escaping and not get caught for a while. Like what would her plan be and how in the end would have William found her (or have trouble finding her since she probably would come up with a better escape plan than moriarty brothers darlings lol) I also just wanted to thank you for writing these stories bc this definitely brought back my Moriarty the patriot obsession 😭🩷

Ah you are so sweet, thank you! It is completely alright, I adore questions like this because it gets the gears in my head turning ❤️💕

This little girl knows enough about her parents history that she knows exactly what to do. During her walks through town, she had seen a house that leaves their bicycles against the side of their house and while she knows stealing is wrong but she doesn’t have much of a choice because if she sneaks on the train her father could easily have someone like Sebastian or James meet her at the station in London and that is exactly where she needs to go.

On bike it would take her at least three days, maybe four, to get to London. Traveling through the countryside it is harder for anyone to find her especially when they don’t know what she is trying to do. Luckily she does not have to steal anymore than she already has because she has memorized a book about edible plants, sure it does not taste good to the little girl, but it is what she has to do. Sleeping is the hardest bit, laying on the earth and using her coat as a blanket while she just wants to be with her mother and sister, but she can’t see them, not now anyway.

When she arrives in London, she immediately asks for directions from a stranger, which gets a weird look from the man but answers anyway. She is off once again, making her way through the London streets, avoiding any place she thinks anyone she knows may be. She props her stolen bicycle against the building and walks ups the stairs leading to the door and knocks, and a surprised blonde man answers, he was clearly startled by the sight of this child.

“M-may I help you, young lady? Are you lost?”

“No sir, this is the right address, correct?”

She hold a piece of paper up to the man for him to see. The man’s eyes widen with surprise even more so that this child was here.

“Y-yes, this is the right address.”

“Wonderful, judging by your expression you must be Dr. Watson.”

“Yes, I am and you must be the most intelligent child I have met.”

The little girl giggles at the compliment as the doctor handed the piece of paper back to her.

“Thank you, I wish I could stay to chat but I am afraid I do not really have time. Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?”

“Yes, um… please come inside.”

The doctor leads her upstairs to the flat and has to interrupt a conversation between Miss Hudson and the detective. Soon enough the residents of Baker Street find themselves sitting down with this little girl, having a conversation on the level of adults. She explains how she got there, biking all the way from Durham and then the question of why comes from the doctor and before the little girl can answer, Sherlock does.

“Because she wants to be my assistant, but why she wants to is the question.”

“Because my father is the Lord of Crime. I received my father’s intelligence but have the face of my mother, and I know she does not want to be with him and I want to figure out a way out for her… I-I won’t tell you my father’s identity if you don’t want to know, but please I want to help her.”

There is a shocked silence from around the table, except from the detective as he listens to her explanation. No one knows what to do, Miss Hudson would not have the heart to send her back to her family and neither would to two gentlemen, but surely they cannot expect this child to handle dangerous work that Sherlock deals with-

“Alright, seems like I have a new assistant.”

It would not take long for her father to find out where she is after that, living at Baker Street with the three adults. She put him in a stalemate, if he goes to claim custody of her, he will be exposed but he cannot let her continue down this road…

What to do?

[tmwcs]

how would both heethan and heelel react to y/n saying "i'm not scared of you anymore"

Ooooh anon.

To put it simply, heethan wouldn’t really care so much about bc he actually isn’t trying to scare you, it just so happens he does at times. He wants you to be comfortable around him, and respect his rules (which pretty much leaves you in isolation). So if you were to tell him when he is not angry or irritated, he’d be fine with it. NOW…let’s say you broke one of his rules…and he gets angry…

“Who was it? Who sent that text to you?”

“I-it…it’s a classmate. They were only asking to meet up so I could help them with the homework assignment.”

“Did I not make it fucking clear that NO ONE talks to you?”

“But…it’s for school Heeseung—“

“And that suddenly makes it better?”

“He-Heeseung please.”

“Come here.”

You take your steps closer when he suddenly stops you. “No. Fucking crawl.”

“W-what?”

“I SAID FUCKING CRAWL.”

You crawl in all fours, beginning to sob. Once you come within reach he grabs your chin and tilts it upwards to face him directly. “You told me earlier that you’re not scared of me, right?”

A shiver crawls up your spine. “Y-yes…”

You answer to confirm but you’re not entirely sure if that was the case anymore. His dark eyes widen, eluding terror in the finest form as a sadistic and psychotic expression takes form on his handsome face. He does not smirk but doesn’t furrow his brows in anger, instead, a blank and wide stare or twisted emotion eyeballs directly into your soul. God knows what he was capable of doing at this stage. A year escapes from the corner of your eye as you feel the tremble of fear hit you. You didn’t admit it verbally but indeed, you were afraid of him.

“Hmph…we’ll see about that.” He chuckles faintly as he pinches your chin harshly and mashes his lips against yours. Breaking the kiss, he tells you…

“I’m going to rip you apart.”

Authors note: if you know anything about heethan…you know what that means. And trust me, there will be more pain than pleasure this time around.

Now for Heelel…

Heelel likes to scare you. He likes to torment you at times because it’s his way of playing with you, since he loves to see you cry, laugh, smile, and be angry. If he’s been seeing a consistent smile on your face, he’ll love it absolutely, but will want just a little more bang for his buck, if you know what that means…

“I’m not scared of you anymore, heelel.”

“Oh really?” He looks up from his throne. His eyes wide with a horrific expression of sinister value. There he goes with that look of malice and twisted psychotic stare of murderous persona. “Feeling a little bold, aren’t we?”

You meant what you said, despite spitting it out of anger during the argument. Regardless of his stare, you maintained composure and refuse to falter. “Not bold. Fed up. I’ve been here for over a year and obeyed your every demand. I’ve given up my body, and there were times it was given against my own will I might add. Yet you still refuse to allow me the small bit of freedom to venture out and see my family. It’s unfair! I’ve told you I won’t leave, I just want to see them from time to time.”

He shoots up from his seat and grabs hold of you. He was so fast, displaying lightening speed as he not only embraced you with his own hands, but used the powers of his demonic force in telekinetic energy to keep you still. “How about I just make a visit and tear them apart, limb from limb, and have you witness their demise so you can forever hear their screams?”

You stare in shock. How could he say that to you? He takes notice of your surprised expression and kept it going. “I can send one of my brothers…or a demon spawned by the fires of this world that would love to purge and plunder into mortal flesh.”

“S-stop. You wouldn’t do that—“

“Oh no?” He chuckles as he scoots a piece of your hair aside lovingly. It was sickening sweet. The way he faintly smirked as he admired your face, held your wrist forcefully and pinned it on your lower back. “You wanna test the waters and see what happens, baby?”

He wasn’t bluffing. He loved you, insatiably…but that was all the more reason why he would do terrible things to hurt and isolate you. He loved you to do selfish things such as keep you all to himself, his possessive toxic obsession with you drove him to do so. With what he wouldn’t give to make you happy, and trust you to witness that he has done so many times. He has proven that he lives for you. He provides for you. He will do anything to make you feel at ease and happy. But cross and defy him as you are doing now, and he’ll punish you in a manner where it hurts the most…your loved ones you left behind. Even if they didn’t exist, he would find other ways to get his desperate screams out of you.

“Tell me darling, do you still feel ‘fed up’? Because we can keep going if you want…or we can stop and leave things as they are, and be happy. YOU WILL KEEP ME HAPPY.”

His grip tightens, causing a slight bit of pain at the been of your elbow as he pinches the small gap between your wrist and back, closing the remaining distance, enhancing the soreness in the process. You whine in pain as you try to use your free hand to push away but to no avail. “Listen to me, princess. I would kill for you. I would die for you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you feel alive and eternally happy. But I will say this only one time…”

The corners of his mouth split, widening that offensively horrific grin he displayed. It was much more sinister and malicious than your ever seen him. His eyes widen psychotically, the sclera taking up more space as his black iris shrinks, enhancing that demonic and possessed expression. It was beyond terrifying. You swallow bile and terror as your eyes began to water, his expression was horrific enough, but to be this close as he closes the distance and his tongues which had grown longer and took the form that if a snake, slivers out and slithers against your skin. His voice was demonic in nature as it now carried a tune of high and low pitch simultaneously speaking the words. He has become the stuff that nightmares were made of.

“L-let go!”

“Answer me.” He maintains his force as he sternly demands you to obey. “You going to be good and keep me happy?”

You shift your face away and body squinting your eyes to avoid the ungodly expression closing in. His sharp and elongated teeth gently pressed against your cheek as he snarls a grin. “No matter if you willingly stay or not, whether you cry or laugh, or feel safe or frightened…just know y/n….i win either way.”

You gasp for air as you realized that the fear quaking in your chest caused you to hold in your breaths. “I have you…you’re mine. That’s all I need to feel complete. Whether you feel content or despair—is entirely up to you. But if you’re facing an eternity in Hell, let me tell you…it wouldn’t hurt to have a lover like me.”

He forces that offensive snake-like tongue coats the interior muscle and skin of your cheek and roof of your mouth, while his demeaning eyes violate your soul as he halfway shuts his lids in contentment. He was relishing in the current state of fear and despair you were in as you were forced to swallow his tongue down your throat, nearly making you gag.

He laughs maliciously. “It wouldn’t hurt to have me…care for you…to love you…to bring you happiness and give you whatever you ask for…aren’t I good to you baby?”

You nod urgently, hoping he would go back to normal already. “Say it.” He grits out as his tongue slowly slides out. Disgusting.

“Y-you’re good..t-to me.” You stutter as you hiccuped a sob or two. He caresses your cheek and pets your hair…his face and voice slowly transitions back to the dashingly handsome appearance you longed for. “Come here.” He smirks.

You collapse as you grab onto his chest, burying your face into him as you sob hysterically. You felt contradicted by holding on to him. You wanted to both, be comforted by him yet also run away. Far away. Since the latter was not an option, you needed to hold onto something…so why not him? The one who loves you more than his own eternal life.

“Shhh…you wanna dance with me baby? We can watch the stars and pick your favorite flowers. How does that sound?”

You grit your teeth as your sobs come to a calmed state. “Y-yes…that sounds good.”

“Good. No more of this talk about your freedom and leisure of traveling. You can go anywhere you like…so long as you’re under my sight.”

You nod. “Oh and y/n…”

You look up and witnessed that psychotic stare returning. “Try anything sneaky and I promise I’ll EAT YOU ALIVE.”

…….

So tell me anon, would you really want to tell either one of them that you aren’t scared of them anymore? 😏 I don’t think you guys want that.

[ghost-bxrd]

Ok so I’ve seen your thoughts on Talia being a good mom to both Jason and Damian and generally being a better person vs when she’s morally gray and really only good to Damian, but how do you feel about Bruce being a bad dad? Like personally I don’t like him being abusive but unfortunately…canon does not disprove it 😕🫠. Like do you have hcs or prompts where he switches from one interpretation to the other? Genuinely curious bc my thoughts on him going between these two have me conflicted bc I don’t LIKE him being a bad father, specifically in regards to Jason, but it does kinda fuel some ‘Jason leaves the batfam to go find himself’ stories I’ve seen, but you could argue that Bruce doesn’t NEED to be terrible for that to happen. Idk maybe modern comics have poisoned my ability to ignore Bruce’s history of abusing his children in some way by cranking up that abuse to a solid 20/10 (I’m sure I don’t have to mention what I’m referencing lmao), but it just makes me think. So much would be nicer if he was just a flawed father, but that’s not what his character fully is y’know (this is why I brought up Talia, just realized I was rambling without making that clear lol)

Phew ok, I’ll try to answer this to the best of my abilities!

So keep in mind that these are my personal thoughts and I’m actually not that well versed in comic lore (the comics I’ve read can be counted on one hand sadly but I’m trying to get my hands on more ksksks), and majority of my knowledge comes from research and fanfic.

Okay back to the topic at hand!

Generally I write/read fanfic for some fluffy family feels (and angst) and the occasional romance, hence why I prefer to write Talia and Bruce as being good parents and likable characters in general. I enjoy reading about it, so I enjoy writing it that way.

In regards to Bruce and his canon actions… well, that’s a tough one to answer ngl.

On one hand he’s displayed as a loving adoptive father who absolutely adores is children, on the other hand he’s shown to be ruthless when they violate his no-kill rules (reference to the Batarang incident).

To me this kind of juxtaposition makes little sense, but I’m afraid there are quite a number of character inconsistencies in the franchise from what I’ve seen so…. I don’t know. It’s just such a 180 turnaround to the early concept of the Batman who considers everyone to be redeemable regardless of their crime. Why would that suddenly not apply to his child?

I don’t think I could ever stomach writing him as a genuinely bad father, most I could do to mix it up a little and have him struggle to reach an understanding with Jason regarding his rule over Crime Alley and dealing with his own inability to communicate properly.

Batman was always supposed to be a protector, the “good guy”, but he’s also human. A human with significant trauma that he’s never properly worked through which… can screw with your people skills significantly.

So that’s usually the way I try to look at it whenever I want to write a Bruce who isn’t the World’s Best Dad at the moment. He’s trying, he just doesn’t know how to show it in a way that others can understand, especially his kids. (Yes tho I take full liberty with the more heinous stuff Bruce pulls/pulled in the comics and discard them as if they’re expired candy >.<)

To sum it up, I’m afraid you won’t ever find a fic where either Talia and/or Bruce are genuinely, irredeemably bad. Simply because I personally don’t think that’s how people work in general and because… well, I’m soft and I need some soft parenting in there somewhere. Sorry dear 🥺

Phew ok I think I was rambling a bit here, but I hope that answers your question somewhat? But if you’d like I could totally cook up a prompt for you that deals with Jason and Bruce struggling to come to an understanding and making compromises to be a family again. Feel free to let me know or send another ask if you’d like to stay anonymous 💚💚💚💚

[its-all-papaya]

🛒 grocery list - please tell us more about how it feels to write max f and his friendship with lando !

LMAO UM. i think the last time i went grocery shopping for real (not just buying coffee creamer, milk, protein bars, gatorade, and red bull/celsius/alani) was like... may? i wish i was kidding. anyway, gonna do that this weekend now that i have a list !

assign me a chore!!

how does it feel to write max f?!!!! scary. i'm in @peargcsly's pm's every evening freaking tf out about him because i'm afraid i'm not doing him and their relationship justice.

that being said ! i looooove him. i'm obsessed with him. if you're in my inbox here you've probably (maybe?) read my other fics and know that i'm notoriously rlly rlly bad at writing in any characters outside of the literal two ppl involved in the ship. i knew off the bat i was going to include a lot of max f in dad lando for practical and like... emotional foil reasons, and i was scared of it (still am) bc i just don't write a lot of side characters. but surprise! i am having the BEST time with their relationship! it's just sooooo soft. as i said in a previous ask or maybe a pm to a mutual(?), max f was always going to be part of this fic bc i cannot imagine a single universe in which lando norris goes through a hard thing and max fewtrell is not there to cheerlead him and remind him what's what. there's a joke in chapter one about ppl thinking lando and max are dating, but unironically, it feels sometimes like writing a ship bc of how much they love each other in this. max just knows lando so thoroughly and loves him and emma so unconditionally. he was there when she was born, and he's been there since, and he's watched lando change and grow in good ways and bad, so he's really instrumental in moving my silly little plot along. there are so many interesting dynamics in this to me (lando/oscar, lando/emma, lando/max, emma/max, eventually oscar/emma), and i think that's what's making it such an enjoyable experience to me. it really feels like i'm building a little world to swim around in, and max is a big part of that bc he's the main through-line in all the stages of lando's life that have brought him to where we encounter him in this fic.

i feel like i'm not even expressing thoroughly enough how DEEPLY soft and gooey i feel about the nortrell in this so uh. have a snippet of My Boys and cry w me maybe:

“Oi,” Lando turns the burner off and sets the pan to cool as he fetches plates from the cabinet, “Not all of us have personal chefs to meal plan for us, mate.”

“I don’t know, both of us on this call do, right, Em?”

“Right!” Emma echoes. Lando doubts she really understands the joke, but there’s hardly anything Max can say that she won’t immediately agree with. It’s not really her fault, she’s got Lando’s own genes, after all.

“Uncle Max, when are you gonna come see me?” she adds when neither of the adults immediately fill the next silence.

The food’s ready, so Lando props his hip against the island and watches Emma as she stares at his phone, even though the screen’s black.

“Oh, soon,” Max doesn’t really make empty promises to her, so she grins at the answer. “I’m back near you this week, we can probably hang out really soon actually. Can I talk to Daddy so we can figure it out?”

“Yes,” she agrees. When she looks up to see him at the counter and not the stove, she pushes back up to her feet to hand the phone back off.

“Thank you, love,” Max says, “I love you, talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Love you too,” she answers.

Lando is mostly used to it, but it still hits sometimes – Max calling him Daddy and the soft way he cares for Emma, like there’s no other option. Lando kind of thinks there hadn’t ever been, for Max; he’d looked at Lando, curled silent on the floor of his bedroom and fighting tears instead of actually breaking the news to his best friend, and said “whatever it is, mate, it’s going to be okay and I’m going to be there to help you with it.”

“Hey,” Lando switches speaker back off and pins his phone between his ear and his shoulder, “how was your holiday?”

[pocket-vvardvark]

Ok ok so idk why, but I really want to head-canon that Meriano and Vanus knew each other bc he transported ancient relics to the guild. Anyways, idk if I ever said stuff about Angelica, but she takes an interest in translations in Lillandril after hearing about the college of sapiarchs nearby and what they do. She joins the mages guild way later, since she's too young to join the college during her family's stay in Lillandril. Anyways, this nonsense ensues during...idk Greymoor maybe??? Vanus is going to light her ass on fire guys tell her to stop 😭

The early morning sun rose steadily above the light-pink sky–a surefire sign of winter. No matter how cold it became in Skyrim, the sunrises and sunsets were at least pretty to look at. Vanus was never built for the cold, he imagines no mer is. Summerset never experienced winter, it remained cast in vibrant green and rosy pink and lavender foliage forever. Perhaps this was a welcome change, especially since the usual was beginning to become stale. That isn’t why he is here, though. An associate of his that transports relics to Solitude has happened upon a particularly interesting find. An Ayleid slate which is in dire need of translating. Fortunately, his associate’s daughter is quite the formidable translator. He has heard first hand that her skills are not to be underestimated in favor of her age. Whether that is familial pride or the truth, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough. 

Manicured fingernails scrape across his robes, and Vanus jumps at the sudden touch. The woman meets his gaze with a cat-like smile as she faces him–her overwhelming perfume surrounding him.

“Ah.” Vanus clears his throat, “You must be the translator.” 

She doesn’t respond immediately as she gives him a once-over. Her smile is becoming unnerving the longer they sit in silence. Her fingers pull away to pat his cheek, earning a grunt of disapproval from him. 

“I have a name, handsome.” She bats her long eyelashes from beneath her tear-stained smoky-eye.

“Angelica.” He answers.

She hums, “So, you do know it. You know…my father talked an awful lot about you.” Angelica takes a seat across from him, checking her nails. “So did my sister.” She adds.

“Sister?” he quirks a brow.

“Mhm.” She glances up, “Hm, let’s see…what do you call her?” She toys with a strand of dark-red hair between her fingers. “The hero of Nirn? The soulless one? Ooh, ooh, I know.” She grins, basking in his attention. “The vestige.” He perks up in realization. So, this was the vestige’s sister, Angelica. They don’t seem to have much in common. This woman is not at all like Alethia–kind and sweeter than pie. Angelica was more like a nixad, or a banekin, but perhaps twice as stubborn than both. Gregarious and a trickster, the perfect combination for a headache, he thinks. At least he could use her charming personality for social visits with clients, provided that she behaves. 

Angelica tilts her head with a thoughtful expression, and there’s a flicker of hope in his mind that she won’t be terribly rowdy. 

“So, want to have dinner with me?” Well, that squashed any hope he had. Entirely. 

Vanus sighs, massaging his temples, “No, Angelica. You’re grossly misunderstanding this visit if you think I came here for smalltalk.”

She pouts, “Aww, you didn’t? Papa said we would get along, since we’re opposites and all.”

Great, her father filled her head with stories about him. None that were accurate, it seems.

“I’m afraid it isn’t likely we will become closer than…acquaintances. At best.” He harrumphs. 

She crosses her milky thighs, smirking when they catch his attention. Her flirtations would certainly cause him to strain something with how vexing they are becoming. 

“That’s a shame.” She drawls, her eyes lidding dangerously. “I don’t mind the age gap. In fact, don’t you think it adds to the temptation? Or, maybe you prefer something mundane. I could be the perfect housewife.”

Without another word, Vanus shoves the tablet her way. “No chance, Angelica. I’m far too capable a mage to be drawn in by your poorly done act of seduction. It’ll take more than that to tempt the likes of the great mage.” His arrogance excited her, and that only irritated him further.

She rolls her eyes, smiling playfully as she grabs the slate. 

Her eyes take the small stone tablet in, observing it cautiously. Moss gathers on its corners and slightly obscures some words. Hopefully, those wouldn’t be terribly hard to ponder, but that is what her work usually details. Endless pondering upon various observations. 

“Well, well, well…” Her voice trails off, eyes stuck on some letter or worn down structure. “Interesting.”

Vanus looks on, a look of impatience passing his expression when she glances up to meet his eyes.

Gently, Angelica lies the tablet back in its case. “This little thing has spent some time in the ocean, hm?”

“Don’t tell me that’s all you've gathered.” He frowns when she giggles.

A pale hand waves him off, “Oh, please, I’ll need some more time before I dig deeper, my dear archmagister.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Cue another snort, “It’s made from marble, maybe something softer than that. The ocean won’t readily dissolve hard rock, you see? These cracks and formations came from somewhere coastal. But, you’ve gathered that already, I take it?”

Vanus huffs, “Quite so. I expect you to take this seriously. You work for the mages guild already, so I hope this attitude isn’t permanent, initiate.”

Angelica guffaws, “Ah-ah-ah.” She waves a long-nailed finger as though she were scolding a kitten. “Try Expert. I’m no child, Vanus. Even if the years between us say so, I do know my translations.”

“Fine, then at least be agreeable.”

She blows a kiss, “Anything for you, handsome.” He doesn’t have time to scold her, because she gathers the case and makes a bee-line for the mages guild.

His shoulders sag once her profile is done swaying out of the pub. This woman was going to be the bane of his existence for however long he needed to remain on this miserable rock.

[kaisacobra]

need a part two !! all about revenge but with a happy ending😭 this would’ve such a good series. readers dynamic with mindy and sam is so interesting to me. both mindy and sam loving tara so much but knowing how much tara hurts reader.. PAIN. i see ppl in the comments talking about sam and reader being a possibility but i feel like that’s kind of out of left field. i totally see sam and reader being more like family because of tara and sams just really appreciative of reader and seeings her as another little sister she wants to protect but it’s hard because she has to protect her from tara so mindy does it. and mindy and sam totally give each other looks whenever something particularly unfair goes on between r and tara. it’s like a car wreck where they just can’t look away. i think it’d be cool to see the aftermath though. maybe reader finally gains self respect and tries to move on (even tho i think it’d be difficult after loving someone for so long). i wonder how tara would react to it, the regret she’d feel would just tumble over and she’d want to think she was right in everything all along but no one’s backing her up and she’s likes oh shit i made a mistake and do need help. also think it’d be interesting to see reader and quinn maybe develop a relationship even if it isn’t serious. like them just fooling around do reader has a distraction and quinn would know. god knows reader isn’t ready for anything serious and quinn, being ghostface, well this would be a perfect opportunity to drive the relationship between tara and reader even more into the mud. quinn would totally be like “she never appreciated you. and you deserve so much better” to reader and r would be agreeing with her but still defending tara. and tara would be all jealous and she’s forced to see it cause r has a roommate so they can’t go to their room and quinn lives with tara so she cant escape seeing them together. and when quinn reveals herself she’d totally make fun of the relationship and be like “and don’t even get me started on r because even when we were together all she could talk about was u, tara” and she’d spit taras words back at her and be like “you’re right she is pathetic. there’s no wonder you kept her around with how she’d follow ur every move/i get why you’d be tired of her bc she was so obsessed with you” and tara would be shocked at the cruel words and hurt because she realizes that’s exactly what she said to reader. i feel like i won’t be seeing a happy ending cause there’s so much angst but i will be rooting for a happy ending ! sorry i’m rambling but it came to my head and i had to let this out. lmk ur thoughts idc if u think it’s bad lol

was this based off anything ? i kept thinking of second best by laufey but a million other songs ran through my head

Okay, first of all, i absolutely love long asks and I'm gonna make sure to answer this with the same energy🤠

I see people are starting to want happy endings too, huh🤨 While I don't think second best is gonna turn into a series, maybe I could make alternate endings for y'all

I do love Mindy and Sam's relationship with R because they balance each other out. Mindy stays by R's side because she knows Tara has Sam and Sam feels relieved that R is getting support from Mindy because she can't leave Tara

And yeah, i don't really see R getting with Sam on part two. However, since I love mixing characters from different universes that I've watched, I considered a lot putting Enid Sinclair (at least a version of her) as Tara's new "competition".

But I also have to say I love your idea of it being Quinn! Although I would make her more of a Tiffany Valentine (if you've seen Chucky) killer in a sense of being a passionate lover who's not afraid of hurting her partner

About it being based off anything, it's not really, at least not intentionally. Second best was actually supposed to be one of those "4 times and 1" where we would see the 4 times Tara put R second and the 1 time R had enough. I'm glad with the outcome though.

And I loved your thoughts! Honestly, you make great points and I'm happy that people seem excited for part 2🥰

[icyminghao]

asking seventeen what they would do if you became a cockroach — maknae line ver.

pairing: seventeen (maknae line) x gn!reader genre: idk what this is honestly

inspired by going seventeen ep. 79: going vol. 2 #1

hyung line ver.

MINGHAO

will judge you

thinks its funny when he imagines it actually happening

will tease you a bit before answering

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Minghao looks away from the book he’s reading to narrow his eyes at you. “Where is this coming from?”

“Just answer, Hao!” you whine, taking the book from his hands and setting it down on the coffee table after bookmarking the page he stopped at. Minghao smiles wryly.

“It depends. If you could hold a teacup and drink from it, I’ll keep you. Anything else and you’d be surviving on the streets by yourself, sorry.” Minghao answers in mock seriousness, and you pout.

“You’re so mean. When are you going back to meditating?”

MINGYU

literally cannot fathom the idea of you becoming a cockroach

it’s impossible, yes, but he literally doesn’t want you to become one

practically begs you not to, much to your confusion and amusement

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?” you raise your head from its spot on Mingyu’s shoulder, gauging his reaction.

“Please don’t become a cockroach,” he practically begs, as if it were possible for you to even become one.

“Mingu,” you giggle, rubbing his arm affectionately, “how the hell would I become a cockroach? I was just asking hypothetically.”

“Exactly, you won’t become a cockroach! So please don’t, you know I’m scared of them,” Mingyu whines like he isn’t at least ten times bigger than the little pest he’s talking about.

You smile in endearment. “Okay, baby, I won’t.”

SEOKMIN

he is terrified, to say the least

would rather die than entertain the idea of you actually becoming a cockroach, but is afraid of hurting you with the truth

goes for the next best thing, which is to evade your question 💀

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?” you look up at Seokmin from your resting position on his chest. You feel Seokmin stiffen.

“A… cockroach?” he replies, his voice a pitch higher than usual. You stifle a giggle.

“Yes, Minnie, a cockroach. Will you still let me lie on you like this,” you trace a finger on his chest to mimic a cockroach’s movements, slowly inching your way up to poke his cheek, “let me kiss y-”

Seokmin jolts in fear, letting out a scream. “Baby, you know I can’t stand cockroaches!”

“Even if it’s me?” you tease.

“You know I love you, right?”

SEUNGKWAN

is side-eyeing you for the entire duration of this conversation

he saw this trend on twitter ages ago

would probably turn the question around so you’re telling him what you would do if he became a cockroach instead

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Seungkwan huffs in amusement, looking away from his phone to raise his eyebrows at you. “What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

You purse your lips together, having not expected him to turn the question around. Seungkwan sees you light up suddenly, as you move to sit beside him.

“We could be cockroaches together,” you giggle, “we would start a trend, become cockroach influencers, you’ll be such a icon!”

Seungkwan lets out a breathy chuckle. You’re his partner, all right.

VERNON

he’d literally be so confused bc that’s not possible??

you try to tell him that it’s just a hypothetical situation but he’s stuck questioning the realism of everything

nice try but he’s just way too clueless… better luck next time

“What would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Hansol furrows his brows together at your words, shooting you a very confused look. “Why would you become a cockroach?”

“I meant it hypothetically,” you whine, shaking his left arm. Hansol doesn’t seem convinced.

“How would you hypothetically become a cockroach? That doesn’t make sense, you’re a human.” Hansol raises an eyebrow, not understanding.

You sigh.

CHAN

poor baby probably thinks it’s one of those boyfriend tests

panicks a little before trying to formulate the textbook boyfriend answer (until you reassure him that you’re just being goofy and had no hidden intentions)

sweeps you off your feet with his answer nonetheless

“Chan, what would you do if I became a cockroach?”

Chan’s eyes widen as he scrambles to think on his feet. “Well, um…”

You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he spirals.

“Chan!” you grab his hand to ground him. “I was asking for fun, silly.”

Chan releases a breath, leaning into you. “Oh.

Well, I’m afraid of cockroaches, but I guess I could try if it was you.”

a/n: i apologise to anyone out there with a phobia of those dreaded creatures (me) but i watched han and jihoon’s interaction in gose and just couldn’t help myself 😭

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua

masterlist

[flfverse]

🤲👿😅 for the ask game :) also I love flf keep it up!

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

i was about to say “bold of you to assume i have a snippet prepared” bc i started a new job this month and my writing ability has absolutely tanked while i get used to it, but i rifled through my old docs a bit and found a doc titled “kid!flf!shinsou and erasermic,” while the fic itself is called “switched.”

“Shinsou,” he starts, “who taught you to kneel?”

He twitches again, violet eyes darting around like the answer is somewhere in his room. “I’m supposed to. This, this is what happens. When I hurt people.”

He holds himself coiled tight and miserable, his voice getting smaller and smaller until it almost doesn’t exist. It hurts to watch. Shouta breathes in and out, and starts to say something, but Hizashi gets there first.

“Listener, you didn’t hurt anyone. We do have to talk about what happened, later, but Shouta and I are both fine. Were you worried you hurt Shouta when I sent him away?”

Shinsou doesn’t say anything for a moment, staring at his lap, and Shouta thinks, That’s not it.

“I—no?” He looks up, long enough for them to see the tears in his eyes before he hides his face again. “Yes. I was—I don’t know.”

“It’s not a trick question,” Hizashi says gently. “We just want to know what’s going on.”

“I was bad,” Shinsou chokes out, so childlike and vulnerable that Shouta feels sick. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry and I won’t do it again, just don’t—please don’t send me back.”

The last part is just a whisper, like he can barely risk voicing it.

“Won’t do what again?” Shouta asks.

Shinsou bites his lip. For a beat, Shouta is afraid he’ll refuse to answer.

He mumbles, “M’ voice.”

<3

i can’t remember if i talked about it before, but the premise is that shinsou has been mislabeled as a sub-leaning switch to make him easier to control (quirk discrimination yay) which leads to a lot of abuse and neglect and gets him labeled as violent and disobedient when he’s actually just a dominant. then he lands in erasermic’s house <3

rereading this reminded me that i actually really like this fic. i think i need to rewrite most of what i have to slow down the pacing (story of my fuckin’ life), but i definitely want to finish it.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

i don’t think so? i mean, i do think of you guys when i write, but i do things for myself first. i did take a little bit of glee in putting a funeral at the end of chapter three of FF, though :3

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

you know, pretty much everything i’ve ever written for this ‘verse has gone through that phase. some of them i’m still embarrassed of. i write them in particular moods and when i’m not in that mood it doesn’t land well with me, and some things i’m just like….that was overdramatic, or this is weirdly paced, or what have you. particularly all my bakudeku stuff. they make me so unhinged and reading it back is weird. but i know y’all like it, so that helps <3

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 4

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Friends" - Ed Sheeran

Chapter Warnings: none!

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: if you have read this fic, liked it, reblogged it, or left comments THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. keep the comments coming bc i love hearing your feedback (and like tinkerbell, i need applause to live).

Chapter 4: There’s A Limit to Everything

“Come now, Fallon, you do better than that.” Wyll scolds her. “You’ve felled a dragon, surely you can hold a plank for thirty more seconds.”

If it were possible for Fallon to look up at Wyll in her current position, she would glare daggers at her friend. When Fallon agreed to train with Wyll to prepare her for this adventure she and Astarion were planning, she’d expected the coach she saw in The Druid Grove the day they met. He was kind and gentle, but still firm in his instructions with the tiefling children on sword wielding and defending themselves. The Wyll before her now is a drill sergeant. Though Fallon doesn’t think Wyll is capable of yelling at her (or anyone, really), training with him is tough. It doesn’t matter to him that Fallon hasn’t picked up a sword or done a push up or a single abdominal crunch in over a year. Breaking into The House of Hope, stealing the Orphic Hammer, and fighting Raphael was easier than going through Wyll’s training regimen every morning.

The very first morning of training with him, Fallon vomited all over the streets of the Lower City not ten minutes into their run. Then again, that could have also been because Fallon drank her weight in wine the night before. Wyll was sympathetic long enough to make sure she wasn’t going to pass out and for her to drink a full canteen of water, then the drill sergeant came out and they were right back to it. ”I won’t make you go all out today, but you’re going to finish this run whether you like it or not. If you have to stop again, so be it, but we’re not turning around.” He’d said.

Almost a month later it hasn’t gotten any easier, but that could be because the moment Wyll realizes she’s capable of more, he makes it harder. Case in point: Fallon has been holding this particular plank for a full minute thirty already. Fallon whimpers pathetically in Wyll’s general direction.

“Oh go easy on her, Wyll, she’s lived at the bottom of a wine barrel for the last year.” Fallon hears Shadowheart chirp.

Fallon didn’t hear the Selunite cleric enter the already crowded suite, and she frowns. “I’m sorry, but when the fuck did my training become a group activity?” She manages to grumble as her arms and legs shake, begging for relief from the plank she’s holding. In any other situation, Fallon would be happy to see Shadowheart, but Fallon really didn’t need all of her friends seeing her struggle through a simple plank.

“I’m just here for moral support,” Shadowheart answers innocently and if Fallon could laugh, she would. “Plus it’s nice to see Wyll put someone else through their paces for once.”

“If you want to be supportive you could get down here and do this plank with me.” Fallon suggests dryly.

“Ohh, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m not dressed for that sort of occasion.” Of course she isn’t.

“Besides, you’re done.” Wyll adds, and Fallon collapses face down onto the floor with a grunt.

“Wyll, come here so I can kick you.” She whines, and The Blade of Avernus laughs loudly.

“If you want to kick me so badly, you’ll have to come over here.” he says, and Fallon scoffs.

Fallon feels a presence approaching her. There’s suddenly someone’s hot (and smelly) breath on her neck and they are aggressively licking her ear. A smile blooms onto Fallon’s face as she rolls over, too excited to take it slowly. “Scratch!” she exclaims with a squeal and immediately begins scratching the dog behind both ears. His assault on her ear moves to her face and neck and Fallon is in a fit of giggles on the floor. “I missed you too, buddy.”

Before he left her standing in shock on the docks, Fallon had every intention of bringing Scratch home with her, wherever her home ended up being. It became clear pretty immediately after she broke down in Karlach’s arms that she was in no condition to care for another living being, so the dog went with Wyll. It was the better arrangement anyway, because Wyll has spent most of the last year helping rebuild Badur’s Gate and Scratch’s presence was a comfort and distraction for the children whose lives were upended.

“Leave it to the dog to be the first one to make her smile genuinely in god knows how long,” Astarion quips as he enters the sitting area from the kitchen. “If I had known all it would take is kissing your face and neck repeatedly, I would have tried that ages ago.”

Fallon nudges Scratch away from her to sit up. “Excuse me, I’m fairly certain it was you who chastised me not a month ago for using sex as a coping mechanism,” She teases, still smiling. “Nice to meet you, Pot, I’m Kettle.” The fact that she can joke about what a mess she was when Astarion found her fucking that drow in an alleyway is a small step, but at least she’s healing. Astarion has all but moved into the suite. He hasn’t slept at his own residence since the night he found her, so perhaps not being alone all the time anymore is helping, too.

There’s a sparkle in Astarions eye when he looks at Fallon. He raises an eyebrow and smirks at her. “I didn’t say anything about sex, darling, just that I should have taken a page from Scratch’s book. You’re the one who immediately made it sexual. Get your mind out of the brothel.” Astarion shoots her a wink, really hitting the flirtation home, and Fallon rolls her eyes as she stands. They both know damn well he’s flirting with her, because he’s Astarion and he can’t help it. He flirts with everyone, and Fallon? She just might be flirting back because it’s nice to feel something other than miserable.

Shadowheart and Wyll exchange looks, but they don’t say anything.

“So I can see how half of the preparation for your trip is going, what about the other half?” Shadowheart flops unceremoniously onto Fallon’s couch.

“Slow,” Fallon crosses the room to her half-empty canteen and drinks heavily. “It’s been more difficult than I’d anticipated to get access to the library’s volume’s on Velrea, and the ones I can find hardly mention Asha at all. We’ve not even left Faerun and we’re already resorting to skullduggery, cloaks, and daggers to get the information we need.”

“Gods, you sound like Gale.” Shadowheart muses offhandedly.

Fallon’s entire body freezes and her mind shuts off. She hasn’t heard his name out loud in…well, probably a year. Fallon’s eyes immediately divert to the floor and she begins following the various patterns woven across, willing her mind to focus there, and not on the name of the man who broke her heart.

“Shit,” Shadowheart gasps, immediately realizing her mistake. “Fallon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean– I wasn’t–The way you said that, you just– I didn’t know it was still this bad, I–Fuck.” The cleric rises from the couch and attempts to stride over to Fallon, but she’s cut off by Astarion and Fallon looks up.

“Don’t.” He tells Shadowheart sharply, his red eyes filled with fire. “I believe it’s time for anyone who doesn’t live here to leave.”

Wyll does not need to be told twice, as he’s already collecting Scratch and heading for the door. He offers Fallon a sympathetic look. Gods, she fucking hates the way they’re all looking at her. At this moment, she misses drill sergeant Wyll. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says to Fallon and Astarion gently.

Shadowheart, on the other hand, bristles at Astarion’s order and folds her arms across her chest. “Last I checked, you don’t live here either, Astarion.” She says cooly, daring the vampire or Fallon to tell her differently.

Fallon is still unable to do anything other than focus on making sure oxygen enters lungs. “For now, I do, while we prepare to leave for Velrea. Now get out before I throw you out.” Astarion threatens, and they’ve all known each other long enough to know that Astarion will make good on that threat if provoked.

“Fine,” her tone is icy, and Fallon could swear the temperature in the room actually drops ten degrees. “Fallon, I’ll come by later to try this again while your dog is out hunting for his supper.” Fallon jumps slightly when the Shadowheart slams the door behind her as she leaves.

“Is it just me, or has our dear cleric become more prickly since she and Lae’zel moved in together?” Astarion huffs haughtily. He turns to look at Fallon. “Are you alright?”

His tone is much softer now, as though the second any perceived threat towards Fallon disappeared all of his anger went with it. She’s quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip.

“What did she mean earlier?”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific, darling.” Fallon looks up and into Astarion’s eyes. “When she said she didn’t realize it was still this bad?”

Astarion takes pause, a surprised look on his face, as though he didn’t even realize Fallon heard what their friend said at all.

“I mean…surely even you can recognize what a mess you’ve been since Ga— since he left. She— I— we, all thought you’d…” He hesitates to even finish his sentence.

“You all thought I’d be over it by now,” She nods and swallows before letting out a dark laugh. “You think I’m weak.”

Astarion sighs with a hint of frustration. “No, Fallon, that’s not it at all. It’s not that we think you’re weak, it’s that we’ve only ever known you to be stronger than this. You have to understand, darling, we spent a year of our lives watching you fiercely and fearlessly lead us across The Sword Coast in order to save the world,”

Fallon wraps her arms around herself, and rubs her hands over her arms. She averts her eyes from Astarion’s, embarrassed to hear how she must have disappointed her friends all these months. Astarion reaches forward and tilts her chin up so she’s looking at him.

“You showed so much strength, even when all seemed lost and like it was the end. That’s the only Fallon we’ve ever known. We’ve been to the hells and back, and it never broke your spirit like this has.”

Fallon understands why her friends would think she’d be so indifferent to having her heart broken. Fallon had put on a brave face for her companions at every turn, because she couldn’t stand the idea of them perceiving her to be weak. When she finally broke down crying, it was either in isolation where nobody would catch her, or in his arms. Karlach also witnessed her break once; after she failed to save Yenna, the little girl that made herself at home in their camp after her mother went missing, only to be brutally killed by Orin, disguised as Lae’zel. He’d gone down in a fight and had wounds that needed serious mending, so Fallon was already on edge when Orin made her move. Burying Yenna just brought everything bubbling to the surface, and she broke down right there in front of the little girl’s grave.

Even so, Astarion is right. She’s faced so much worse than a broken heart, and even the things she cried about in private were far worse than this. Yet none of those moments have a hold on her psyche the way that day on the docks does. “It’s not like I never cried back then, you know. I’m not heartless. I just didn’t want you all to see.”

“Well yes, I don’t think anyone who has spent time with you would call you heartless, but you always bounced back. We’d have a hard day, you’d disappear to have a cry, and the next day you’d be fine.”

Fallon gapes at him. “You all knew that when I went off on my own that I was upset and none of you came after me?” She doesn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that they respected her need for space.

“Don’t look so scandalized. Wyll tried to go after you once, after one of the days we spent down in The Grymforge; but the rest of us just kind of agreed that if you’d truly wanted company, you would have asked, and that was that,” he explains with a wave of his hand. “The point I’m trying to make is that you are so much stronger than you think you are, and knowing that you don’t believe that about yourself kills me,”

He lowers his hand to her shoulder, and raises the other to rest on its twin. “And I could honestly kill himfor breaking you so thoroughly that a year later, the mere mention of his name puts you in a panic. You didn’t deserve that, and he never deserved you.”

In all the time Fallon has known Astarion, she can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen this level of sincerity from the vampire.. She can see the weight of his words in his eyes, and it’s mixed with something else she can’t quite place at first. Though the longer she looks into his eyes, the more she begins to understand. At least she thinks she does.

Without another thought to second guess her gut, Fallon reaches up to cup Astarion’s face in her hands, and she kisses him.

Chapter List