#he never did anything wrong ever of course

[amarriageoftrueminds]

*Not sure this discussion belongs under this post but...*

Tony doesn't sacrifice anything in CACW... He's a billionaire with zero consequences at the start of the movie, and he is still that at the end of the movie.

gif 1: 'justice for the voiceless'

🤣 Mr Hyperverbal! Tony's whole MO is talking over and more than everyone else; he literally interrupts others advocating for themselves (because they're not capitulating to him) just to tell them to shut up. The only time he doesn't do that is because he can't out emotionally-blackmail a dead son's mother.

And why are all these 'people' voiceless, I wonder? Could it be because they are... mysteriously dead, somehow? I wonder how that happened. Does 'justice' look like somebody being jailed and put out of business, losing his precious money? No...? Funny that!

(I'm sure them being a billionaire has nothing to do with it though!)

Tony would sit in a room with a woman whose entire family and country have been destroyed by his weapons, and mansplain collateral damage to them (which suddenly matters because an American was hurt, right? Fuck them illegal immigrant kids, right?)

(Defining characteristic of the Stark family: take only credit, never blame. If you are personally to blame for something, describe that something as a collective fault; if someone else did something great, steal it and/or take all the credit for yourself!)

And the fact that it was always Steve, Nat, Clint, Wanda, etc. down on the ground at street level helping civilians... well, Tony never noticed that of course. As his own bodyguard said, Tony wouldn't remember someone unless they were a blonde with a big rack... Steve may be a blonde with a big rack, but he's not the right sex! 😂

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gif 2: Tony claims he stopped making weapons.

'Once I discovered my leopards-eating-peoples-faces company was causing peoples faces to be eaten by leopards, I stopped that!' -- Says Man who still runs a leopards-eating-peoples-faces company and never stopped. 🤦‍♀️

You have to wonder just what Tony thought weapons were for, exactly, if he thought his weapons weren't doing any harm before?

(Which he only suddenly deigned to notice because the person getting their chest blown open was- gasp! -an American!)

He decides his weapons were only bad because they were in the 'wrong hands.' 🙄 Implying that the 'right hands' exist, ie. his own. An American billionaire's hands. But then he criticises Steve for saying the Avengers' hands are the safest hands for world-saving?

(Which is true, in this universe, because the WSC's solution for world-saving was to drop a nuke on Manhattan. The Avengers already tried government oversight and it was Hydra, Ross's Hulk project, AIM, dropping nukes, etc etc. Bad writing alert!

Why the fuck would Tony of all people be in favour of that? He told Congress to go fuck themselves when it came to them controlling the Iron Man suits! Then the Vice POTUS turned out to be AIM, who had Pepper abducted and experimented on -- made into an enhanced person against her will! -- but suddenly Tony trusts governments to handle enhanced people? And he's fine with people talking shit about Bruce?? Since when?! Make it make sense!)

The Iron Man movies, Avengers, Cap and Spiderman movies, all feature brand new weapons Tony designed, built, and gave away... after claiming he wasn't in the weapons making industry any more.

Even IM3, when he temporarily lost his armour, had Tony personally making weapons, and handing a weapon off to a kid -- to use on other kids, at his urging!

This idea that Tony ever gave up being an arms dealer is just part of his own Iron Man mythology he's made up in his head.

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gif 4: Tony has never sacrificed any personal freedoms, nor accepted any limitations on himself.

(Despite sneering at ordinary people who refuse to sacrifice their personal freedoms in favour of authoritarianism. That 'for the greater good' line up there could have come straight out of Project 2025! 🤢)

Tony makes a mockery of Ross and the Accords, despite pushing for them. He never had any intention of doing as he was told, and that's one of his trademarks as a character.

Steve in CACW is anti- corrupt governments (which his films have given him good reason for; Tony's films ought to have given him the same ideology, too... but this is a Disney movie.)

Tony is pro / arguing in favour of handing over control to a potentially corrupt government. Specifically, handing over policing of a minority -- enhanced people -- who aren't like Tony... but he pretends he's in the same boat as them, when he isn't.

He even said government having an agenda is a good thing!

Yeah, how's that working out for you, America?

Subheading of the Accords document: 'The Registration of enhanced people.'

Tony is advocating for the exact same things that ICE and the Trump Administration are doing to immigrants in America right now, because it doesn't and won't ever affect Tony personally. The leopards were never going to be eating his face!

(It reminds me of what Magneto said about mutants working for the US in X-Men: First Class:

"Identification, that's how it starts. And ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated."

Could have come straight out of Steve's mouth!)

The Raft (as Sam correctly clocks) is Guantanamo Bay for Enhanced People, and Tony idiotically argues in favour of that, and is then all shocked pikachu face when that is in fact precisely what they get. (Channelling Trump voters now crying about the conses quencing.)

He's an ignorant sheltered idiot who calls himself a genius but has no idea what life is like for non-billionaires, because he doesn't care to know. (Not surprising given that Musk was the inspo for Tony, as set out by RDJ himself, Jon Favreau, and the guy who wrote IM1).

Steve -- the one who actually goes to the Raft to break the innocents out, unlike Tony! --- is anti-authoritarianism... anti-ICE-for-enhanced-people. And he's been breaking out prisoners of authoritarians since CATFA!

So Tony does not embody what Steve stands for, and never could, because what Steve stands for is Antifa -- Tony embodies what Steve has always stood against.

(And, since never learning a lesson or taking blame for anything is Tony's trademark, he is back to nonsense Hydra monologuing and blaming the Snap on everyone else, in EG. 🤦‍♀️)

Steve isn't throwing away his persona in CACW, he's living up to it.

Being anti-authoritarian and protecting innocents from authoritarian bullies, deploying the 'I can do this all day' battlecry -- suffering personally in order to achieve the right thing -- is exactly what Steve would do even if he never knew Bucky at all.

(That he gets to do one good thing, and save Bucky (another good thing), is just a perk; it's the narrative's way of condoning Steve's moral stance.)

Tony Stark in CA:CW + the values of Captain America

[velvetvexations]

I'd like to add something to the topic of forced impregnation / corrective rape of transmascs & men.

One thing I feel like other people tend to believe is that trans people with uteruses / the capability to get pregnant are "extremising" a problem that really only affects a few select trans people, surely not a lot.

What they don't get is that we're not extremising anything. Even just on the topic of forced pregnancy, I know barely a single trans man who hasn't been told that getting pregnant would fix him or that his whole worth as a person with a uterus is measured in how many children he can pop out at best, or being straigh up threatened with it or at worst having someone actually attempt to or fully act on that threat. And the ones who it didn't happen to? They know full well that it's always a "it didn't happen yet". That threat is still there, even without anyone saying it. People don't have to outright say it or threaten us because we just know.

It's not something we made up as a "gotcha" to trans women. In fact, it has nothing to do with most trans women at all, safe for the ones who can get pregnant! It's our lived experience. Our every-day life.

I was thirteen, just started my period, when my mother started to try to convince me that my whole worth as a person was making babies, that I needed to make kids the second I'd turn eighteen, that I would otherwise waste my life. And no, she didn't actually think that of all women. My cis sister? Never got to hear any of that. Just me. Because my mother looked at me being masculine and saw something she needed to fix (by only buying me extremely sexualised feminine outfits and telling me the stuff mentioned above, and that it was "only that" makes me one of the lucky ones). It happened to me not just because I was born with a uterus, because then it would've happened to my sister, too. It happened because my mother could tell something was "wrong" with me because I was too masculine. Got a little too exited when people mistook me for my brother. She didn't know what transmasculinity was back then in name, but she absolutely did know that it was "wrong" and needed to be "fixed" - and the way to fix a "broken woman" is to get her pregnant. She, of course, couldn't do that back then, but she could do her best to try to make me do that once I was "old enough" (I'm very glad today that she failed.)

And basically every trans men I've talked with about that topic had their own story like that or much, much worse. Only very rarely has a transmasc/man not experienced something like that, and even then, the threat is so omnipresent that even they tend to know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's a horrifying truth, it's uncomfortable, but it needs to be talked about. Our pain has been ignored and swept under the rug for so long, and people are still continuing to do so. So they can keep telling themselves that we "don't have it that bad" that we're "making a deal out of nothing" that what happens to us is just "individual cases" not something targeted. Because if people don't listen, they don't have to admit to themselves how they're playing into our oppression. Because to this day my mother is still claiming that she supports the trans community, after she did everything in her power to stop her son from existing. She won't listen to what I have to say because it "wasn't that bad", and my sister turned out great, so what do I have to cry about?

Nobody listens to trans men in general because it's never "as bad" as we make it out to be. After all, a cis woman said it wasn't that bad and she'll always be more believable than what ever a trans man or transmasculine person has to say. A trans man could obviously never experience anything a cis woman in his situation wouldn't.

This got longer than I anticipated. Thank you for listening and talking about this topic. I appreciate you, your work here is incredibly important and I'm glad you do this. Take care, and have a nice day!

(Also, this whole assumption about us "extremising" and "making a big thing out of nothing" also sounds a bit like hysteria talk to me, especially given that our conversation is about uterus-related things, but I might be reading to much into it here.)

the issue is that TRFs will take all this as "so you're saying that means trans men have it worse than trans women?"

like noooooooo you invented that sentence! that was nowhere in the original text girliepop!

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 17 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: What does he see when he looks at you?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, stalking, our man going all underwear fetish on us, his POV, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Three weeks ago

Watching you sleep was always the highlight of his day. It was what he loved doing most, even if there were surely people who considered that creepy. Maybe you did, too. But it didn’t matter, not to him.

The way you lay on his bed, your hair splayed over the pillow and your eyes peacefully shut – the way your chest softly heaved and your lips parted in a soft breath - it made him weak. Weak.

That was the only time he allowed himself to be really enamored. He took his time and stared at you, every contour, every freckle, everything – and it filled him with pride. You were his.

His.

He hadn’t intended for things to get out of hand like that. In fact, he hadn’t intended anything at all. But the exact second he read those words, so heartfelt and deep – it was like you had reached into his soul and taken the words from his tongue.

Of course he had to have you.

The way your eyes glistened, so sad and yet so beautiful on the pictures, it had only been the cherry on top. Actually, he didn’t really care what you looked like. You could have looked like anyhow. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was your sadness. It was inexplicable and it was oh-so wrong. But your sadness, your sadness. It shone in your eyes and it let your soul glow in a soft blue.

Everything about you was so blue. Even black one some days.

It wasn’t that he wanted you to be sad. Not at all, actually. He hated when you cried, unless it was in the bedroom.

He didn’t revel in your sadness per say. It just happened to be so…relieving.

All his life he had spent looking for something, someone, to understand him. To see him. Care for him. But no one ever did. Not in the way he wanted.

He had had relationships before, though none of them ever meant anything. He wasn’t even sure if he had the right to call them relationships. After all, it was mostly just the physical aspect, something to bring him some relief after a long day of pretending to be someone.

None of them ever meant anything to him. They were nothing but pretty dolls to take his frustrations out on. Most of them walked out on him the moment he ever even considered showing some of his true colors. Some of his darker shades.

Sick bastard was what most of them threw in his face. He couldn’t really blame them. But it wasn’t like he cared. Once he was done with them, it was either them leaving or him throwing them out. Most of them were only interested in him because they thought him to be some kind of important figure in any context. The suit, the tie, the briefcase – he had to be someone. Someone rich. Someone who knew how to take care of them. Someone.

But the reality of the situation was far more complicated. He didn’t care for them and he didn’t intend to pretend he did. He had no intention to pretend like he was the husband type of guy, the caring type. None of it. He was simply no one.

It was hard pretending not to be. After all, everyone who met him wanted something from him. Either money, status or whatever else. A smile. A kind word. A gentle touch.

Control.

Everyone wanted to control him.

That was the one thing in the world he didn’t allow anyone to have. Never.

Until he met you.

Your sadness was as contagious as it was maddening. Your pain was as toxic as it was alluring.

God, you suffered so beautifully. So gracefully.

He knew that he was fucked. He knew it by the first time he saw you in person.

That goddamn dark grey Honda and the countless hours he spent in there, doing absolutely nothing. He would have made a horrible detective, probably would have hung himself the first week of work. But you were worth it, right?

Because you understood him. You were special.

You weren’t like all these other women.

You were his girl. You would become his girl.

You wouldn’t care about status. You wouldn’t care about whatever he could give you.

No. You would want him. For him.

All you wanted was someone to rescue you. And the moment his eyes caught sight of your mother, he knew why.

The way she dragged you around like a collared dog, the way she swung her hips in a way that was so suggestive and begging for anyone’s attention. All the while she didn’t give you an ounce of her own, unless it was to guide you, like a good little dog.

It made him want to murder her on the spot.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was your mother still.

He needed to win you over, not scare you.

Also, your mother was quickly forgotten, the second he laid his eyes upon you.

He wasn’t a man of many feelings. There was the anger that took control of him. He stood beside his body and watched as he committed the most heinous crimes. That was his anger.

Then there was the emptiness. It didn’t come often, but when it did, he tried to numb it. Alcohol, women, anything that was there, available and ready for him to be consumed. But it didn’t work. The only thing that ever fed his soul enough, the only thing that gave him back his peace of mind, was violence. Violence. Blood. Death. And pain.

Whenever he suffered, he needed someone else to suffer more. He had suffered enough, hadn’t he?

Whenever he closed his eyes at night, he still felt it. He still felt the way all the colors around him faded away. He still smelled it. The smell of burnt fish in the kitchen and the way the house smelled like it for days.

He still felt his hands. Nowadays, it didn’t make him feel sad or empty anymore. Not even disgusted. All he felt was anger.

But he couldn’t hurt him anymore, no, he had already killed him. Years ago, he already killed him and yet? Yet he couldn’t forget it. The darkness.

The darkness lured him in, surrounded him like a cloud.

It was the only thing that made him feel safe. His darkness was the only thing he knew.

Happiness was fragile. He didn’t trust happy people, they were so easily swayed. Sad people as well. All they needed was a hunch, a tiny promise of happiness and they dropped their sadness.

He needed someone who was as dead inside as he was.

Someone like you.

When he finally saw you, he immediately recognized it. The emptiness behind your eyes. The way you shrank away at the prospect of light, of day, of happiness.

You didn’t trust happiness either, because you didn’t know it.

You thought about it, dreamt about it – but you didn’t trust it. And he needed exactly that.

Everything that came afterwards happened as if on autopilot. What he needed were you. And how he’d get you didn’t matter.

The first time he snapped out of his automated haze was when you were already here, already working, already living according to his plan.

What was his plan?

Meet you. Ask you out.

You wouldn’t trust him of course, but maybe you were desperate. After all, you had lost your mother. Not that you would loved or missed her, but you lost her nonetheless and now you were alone. Maybe you were craving something. Someone. Like he was.

The fog in his brain lightened and he followed you home. Of course he bribed the landlord to let you pay only a tenth of what the apartment would have normally cost and he paid the rest. He also paid the man to keep his mouth shut about it. Just like he paid your boss to pay you more than your work was actually worth.

You deserved pretty things. But you never bought them.

He spent all the free-time he had to follow you. He waited and waited, excepting you to go batshit over the money, but you never did. The only thing you ever bought were books and food. Nothing more.

He had never seen anyone so low-maintenance before. It was refreshing in a way, but also frustrating. You deserved pretty things. You deserved them. But you didn’t seem to see it that way. It was irritating.

That one Friday afternoon, he followed you to the bookstore, the one that sold English books. You liked classic literature, he could tell as much. Last time you bought Madame Bovary, that Friday you bought Crime and Punishment. For some reason, that made him smirk. Raskolnikov. Darkness seemed to lure you in just as much.

He mindlessly scrolled through your Watch again list on Netflix. Hannibal – the old one and the new one. The Sinner. Bates Motel. You loved that one especially, because you watched the show and the old movie. You had great taste. Anything classic seemed to catch your attention. And also, anything dark. Maybe you found comfort in it, like he did. Maybe watching other people suffer made you feel at ease, as well. The thought drew him in even more. When he heard you slowly make your way out of the store, he made his way back to your apartment as well. He always kept a safe distance, but something was different that day. He’d caught a hunch of your perfume, the soft, gentle smell of some flower he couldn’t quite name. The smell nearly made his eyes roll back then and there.

That day, he needed more.

And so he waited. He sat, walked, stared, observed and waited until finally the lights went out. He waited another hour, feeling rather cold that night, but he couldn’t have cared less.

And so he slowly made his way upstairs. He had no need to even break in – he had the key. It made him furious, actually. That he landlord was so easily bribed to give him your keys – he could have been anyone, after all. He could have had the most lewd intentions.

He made a mental note to take care of the landlord someday, by the time he wouldn’t need him anymore.

He didn’t actually plan to approach you, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed you. He needed something.

And so he got inside, careful to be as quiet as possible. He slid off his shoes like any good guest would and then he softly stepped forward. He knew exactly where you slept, he had been here before, obviously. He glanced through the crack in the door, making sure you were really sound asleep, before he carefully pushed it open and stepped inside.

And there you were.

God. There you were.

He felt his heart skip a beat and a rush of heat flood his body. The familiar stirring of desire in the pit of his stomach, only that this was so much more intense. He had never felt anything like this before. It was like everything he ever wanted, ever needed. There you were. So beautiful. So vulnerable.

So his.

He swallowed slowly and stepped closer. You lay spread out over the mattress, wearing a simple, white nightdress. It looked a little outdated, might as well have been from Grease. But somehow that only added to your charm. You indeed reminded him of Sandy, maybe in the scene where she coughed after taking one smoke of a cigarette.

That made him smile to himself.

He stepped closer until he was finally close enough to touch you. He even reached out a hand, but then he stopped himself.

Not like this.

But he needed something. Something. Nothing sexual, nothing lecherous. Just you.

He very slowly curled his fingers in and brushed his knuckles over your cheek in a touch that was barely there. You didn’t even stir. In fact, he asked himself if you were even breathing. His gaze settled on your chest and stomach. You were breathing. You were alive. Real. And waiting for him.

So far, everything had worked out perfectly.

And he had no idea why it was taking him so goddamn long to approach you.

What was it that was holding him back?

What would you think when he spoke to you? That he was making fun of you? That he was some kind of psychopath, someone who wanted to hurt you?

How far from the truth. He just wanted you to be his, like it was always intended.

You had always been his. You simply didn’t know that yet.

He spent a few more minutes like that, staring down at your sleeping form. After a while he finally moved, ready to leave you in your tiny little world again. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t touch you, kiss you, feel you the way he needed, but he needed something. He needed something or he would burst.

He didn’t want to use any other women to fulfill his need. He couldn’t. Ever since you stepped into his life, he couldn’t. No other woman did anything for his mind, for his fantasy. They were all just there, all name- and faceless.

All that occupied his mind were you. And he needed something.

He crouched down and pulled a few drawers open, glancing around and touching a few things, but nothing was enough. He needed…

By the time he stepped inside the bathroom, he knew what he needed.

He couldn’t touch you without your knowledge, without your permission. But what he could do was think about you.

And so he did the only logical thing. He knelt down and began to rummage through your laundry basket, until he caught sight of it.

Perfect.

Fuck. It was even better than perfect.

He reached out a hand and slowly pulled out the pair of panties. It was worn, but even better, even better. It had your trace on it, your blood. You.

Fuck. His eyes fell shut the moment his fist closed around the material and the faint trace of your blood. He was immediately hard. It was so quick, it was almost embarrassing. But he didn’t care. He slowly sunk down and leaned against the wall, before he held them up. He buried his face in it and inhaled deeply.

Fuck. He had to bite down on it, in order to keep quiet. A groan was tumbling upon his tongue. This was even better than anything he would have hoped for.

He would have given his life to fuck you. To feel you. To kiss your lips, to inspect your mouth with his tongue. To lick a path down your body and bury his tongue and his face between your legs. He knew it was Heaven, his Heaven.

The thought of you underneath him, warm and inviting…Looking up at him with that vulnerability, with that faint tear-stain on your face. Either that or a mischievous grin. Whatever it was. He knew the second he buried himself inside you, he’d burst. He’d turn into a predator, a wild animal, mindless, boneless, fuck.

He felt himself twitch in his pants. The thought alone was nearly enough to make him combust, right there in your bathroom.

Pathetic, he thought. Then he inhaled again.

The few weeks after that went by painfully slow. He wanted to approach you and every day he tried to. But he always stopped himself in the last second.

What if you refused him?

What if you rejected him?

What if?

He couldn’t bear the thought of it. He felt this helplessness whenever he imagined it. And so he waited. Observed. And did nothing else.

Until that cursed night. He stood in the shadows of the metro station, keeping a keen eye on you as he always did, pondering and brooding. How should he approach you best? In English? In Korean? He couldn’t let you know what he knew, what he was. He had to find a way-

And then that little rodent came. Oh, no.

No, no.

Over his dead body.

Murder in general wasn’t hard for him. But that, that was the easiest task he had ever taken on.

He didn’t even mind that you witnessed that little bastard exploding like a balloon on the train line.

He had wanted to hurt you.

You.

And he couldn’t let that happen. Over his dead body.

Things went up and down, back and forth. Mostly back. And of course things turned out different than he’d planned. But he tried to make the best of it.

And yet every time again, he stood beside his body and watched himself. Watched himself as he hurt you and did all these things to you.

But he had to, right?

You wouldn’t understand it otherwise. And you needed to understand it.

You were made for each other. You were his.

And he was yours.

Luckily, you did understand it in the end.

You were his girl. Not out of obligation, not out of fear.

You were his, because you wanted to be. Because you saw it now.

He kept watching as you slept, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

Eventually, you’d forgive him for everything he had done. You had to, for one simple reason.

You were his girl.

____________________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

I know this one is rather short, I'm sorry for that, but it was super spontaneous. I got an anonymous request about a chapter in his POV and this happened, I didn't plan this actually, so thanks, anon! I do have some crazy shit upcoming, so I wanted to do something a little lighter. I mean, it's still twisted obviously, but you know...in a gentle way.

ALSO: Happy Birthday dear @kyl13sm1l3y I'm sorry, I know this isn't Valentines Day related! But it is a new chapter anyway :( Forgive me please?

I love you, guys! Soooooooo much!

[anylady-fics]

Body talk | Han Jisung x F reader

I really suck at aesthetics.

Summary:

[...] He was standing there, talking to you all casually, when he stripped his shirt off. Your jaw just dropped because well, you weren’t ready for that. Sure, you’d noticed he looked healthier overall, but the man was always drowning in oversized clothes, so you never really saw much. But right then? Oh, you saw.

“You’re staring, baby.” He always called you that, but at that moment, it just hit differently. “Like what you see?” [...]

Or... she just couldn't handle how hot her friend had become.

*** this work is for adult audiences. Minors DNI ***

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, dry-humping, unprotected sex (don't do it), vaginal sex, creampie

4,488K words - cross posted on ao3

Ⴡ Masterlist

Han Jisung was one of your best friends, so when he told you he was starting to work out, you were really supportive. He was always the skinny type, the kind that made you wonder if he was actually eating all his meals. But you were kinda used to seeing him like that, so…

You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but he started growing… a lot. Since you saw him all the time, you didn’t notice right away how big he was getting. It wasn’t sudden, but it happened.

Then there was this birthday pool party with all your friends, and that’s when you really noticed just how hard he’d been training at that damn gym. 

He was standing there, talking to you all casually, when he stripped his shirt off. Your jaw just dropped because well, you weren’t ready for that. Sure, you’d noticed he looked healthier overall, but the man was always drowning in oversized clothes, so you never really saw much. But right then? Oh, you saw. 

“You’re staring, baby.” He always called you that, but at that moment, it just hit differently. “Like what you see?”

Fuck, you were staring. But how could you not? His arms were like three times bigger, and so was his chest. And he still had that thin waist…

“I just… I just didn’t notice how buff you got.”

“Yeah, I’ve been working out for almost two years, you know?” He flexed his biceps for you, as if you weren’t already dizzy just looking at him. “Glad you like it.”

Han had always been that flirty guy, the one who calls you ‘baby’ and was always sweet to you. But now? That same behavior was making you feel completely different when he was actually… that hot. What the fuck was actually happening? Of course, you’d been stuck with your shitty ex for the past year, so you weren’t exactly looking at other men. And you hadn’t been on a date in months, still kinda numb since that piece of shit broke up with you. But right then and there, Jisung was waking you up. Or at least, it felt like it. 

“I did, I mean…”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t see anything happening around you when you were dating that asshole.”

He was right. You didn’t. And your ex was always jealous of your friendship with every guy, but especially with Jisung—and you never really understood why. Nothing ever happened between you two, and you never saw him that way. Sure, you knew he was pretty, you’d always thought he was cute. But you never—ever—considered dating him. Not because of his looks, of course, but because he was your friend, and you didn’t want to mess things up. You were never good at relationships, so dating friends? Yeah, you always avoided that.

But…

You could have a crush, right? Just a crush. It was natural, it was healthy. Nothing to worry about.

“Could you help me out with this?” Jisung was talking to you, but you hadn’t been paying attention until he handed you the bottle of sunscreen. “Can’t reach my back, so…”

You took the bottle and tried to act normal, really tried. He turned around, letting you spread the sunscreen over his skin, and that’s when you really saw—and felt—his back muscles.

God. You’d always had a weak spot for skinny buff men, so actually touching him? That was making you a little nervous. But it was Jisung. Thinking about him that way just felt wrong. Not that you could stop—not while you were rubbing way more sunscreen on him than necessary, for way longer than you should.

Once you’re done, you hand him the sunscreen and excuse yourself, you need to go to the bathroom to change into your bikini. And also… to check something.

As soon as you lock the door, you drop your backpack on the floor and start undoing your shorts, because you can feel it. You can feel how wet you got just from rubbing sunscreen on your friend’s back.

That shouldn’t be happening. It was so sudden. You definitely weren’t going to act on it, but still… it made you realize just how long it had been since you’d had a date, a great night with someone, hell, even an orgasm. Even one by yourself. It was embarrassing how worked up you got over something so simple.

You walked out of the bathroom already in your bikini, with a pair of shorts to cover up—not because you were shy or anything, but because you couldn’t shake off your dirty thoughts. And you knew they’d only get worse once the drinks started flowing. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to notice how soaked you were… without even stepping into the pool.

The day was going really great. Everyone was eating, drinking, and playing by the pool, so you let yourself relax for a while—slipping off your shorts and lying down to soak up some sun, maybe even get a little tan. Even if it was a bit late already, the sun would be gone in an hour.

“Careful, baby. You’re gonna burn like that. Here, I got you the drink you like.”

You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know that it was Jisung. Of course he was bringing your favorite drink—he always did. But now? Now it was getting under your skin. It wasn’t his fault, but you were acting all weird around him.

“Thanks, Ji.” You took a sip before finally looking at him—only to find him sitting on the ground, right next to you.

“You don’t have to stay out here in the sun…”

“Oh, I know. But I want to. Feels like ages since we just hung out. And it’s not even that hot anymore.” He sat there, stretching his legs out, leaning back on his arms. Muscles on display, skin glistening with sweat, pool water, and that damn sunscreen. “You’ve been all depressed since… you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m alright now.” You tried to look away, but somehow, you just couldn’t. So you took another sip. “What did I miss?”

He started gossiping about your friend group—but nothing mean, just filling you in on everything that had happened while you were holed up in your room, feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin got a new girlfriend for a week, then broke up with her… which was nothing new. Chris was working his ass off, also nothing new. And Changbin? Apparently, he’d been helping Jisung at the gym. Well… that explained a lot.

“I’m really glad you’re doing better now.” He finished his beer, flashing you the cutest smile. “Hope you pick someone better next time.”

“It’s not that easy!” You could already feel yourself loosening up from the drink—and the amount of vodka he’d poured into it. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Han Jisung?”

“Is it too strong, baby? Sorry, I can make you a new one if you want. But what do you mean it’s not easy?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just… it's been a while since I drank vodka. But thanks, really.”

“So… what do you mean?”

“What?”

Yeah, nope. Playing dumb seemed like the best option. You really didn’t feel like whining about your shitty love life. Jisung already knew you had a habit of settling for way less than you deserved, and you weren’t about to go down that road again. It was just… embarrassing.

“You can tell me. Why do you keep dating assholes?” He paused for a moment, then—out of nowhere—blushed. “Is it because… you know. They’re good in bed or something?”

“God, I wish.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. You stared at your drink, then shoved the glass into his hands. “Here. Keep it. I’m already talking too much.”

“But seriously. Why?” He took a sip of your drink, then immediately made a face. “Jesus, this is a crime. I’m getting us new drinks. Be right back.”

You’d never really talked about sex with him before. Sure, some things had come up during drinking games, but nothing too revealing. So… why was he so interested in your love life now? You trusted him enough to tell him everything, but all you could think about was how much of a loser you’d sound like. Admitting that most of your exes couldn’t even make you cum? Not exactly your proudest moment.

He came back with a really sweet drink for you and another can of beer for himself. For a moment, you thought he’d drop the conversation entirely—almost felt relieved about it, even though you kind of liked the tension. But as soon as he sat down, a little closer this time, he picked up right where he left off.

“So, you were saying…?”

“I wasn’t saying anything, Ji. Stop talking about those assholes, they’re in the past now.” You took a sip. God, it was good, so sweet you could barely taste the alcohol this time. “This is perfect, thanks!”

“Come on, tell me. I really wanna know how a good girl like you always ends up with guys like them.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, it just happens.” You shrugged. “And they’re not even good in bed, that’s the worst part. Most of the time, they didn’t even care if I came or not.”

“Oh my god, so you hate yourself that much?” He groaned, taking a deep breath before nearly downing his entire beer. “Please tell me you’re not doing that again. It’s painful watching you suffer every time.” He set his can down with a sigh. “Also, you have to make sure they’re gonna treat you right before anything else.”

“They’re not assholes at first, you know…”

“I’m talking about the sex.” He raised an eyebrow. “You gotta make sure it’s good before making them your boyfriend.”

And now you were the one blushing. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong. You’d always waited before sleeping with a guy, always dated them for a while first. But that clearly wasn’t working. And the worst part? It wasn’t even them. It was you. You got comfortable, and you sucked at breaking things off. It was always like that.

“So you seem to know a lot about this relationship stuff,” you said, feeling the alcohol settle into your system. “How are you still single?”

“Well, I had a few dates… but I’ll only have a girlfriend when it feels right.” Then he smirked. That smirk. The kind that made you want to hit him, but you couldn’t, because it was too damn irresistible. “At least I made sure they were satisfied.”

“And how are you so sure about that?” Your cheeks were burning? Yeah, definitely. But the conversation was interesting, and the alcohol was making it a lot easier to roll with it. 

Jisung smirked again, then glanced at you. Just a quick look. But you saw it. Saw his eyes flicker down—right at your tits. And fuck, it hit you like a rock. That’s when it really sank in. You were sitting there in nothing but a bikini, your nipples were hard, and you’d been soaked since the moment you rubbed sunscreen over his back. But you didn’t move. Didn’t try to hide a damn thing. You just sat there, waiting for him to answer.

“Oh, baby…” He tilted his head slightly, voice dripping with amusement. “You don’t really want the details, do you? I’m not the type who fuck and tell.”

“Such a gentleman…”

“I am, actually.” He grinned, cocky as ever. Then, after a beat, he added, “And you know… since you’re single and not dating anyone, I could just… show you. Sometime. Maybe.”

Bold. But the second the words left his mouth, he hesitated just for a moment. Like even he couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. And fuck, you clenched. Hard. Harder than you thought was humanly possible. You just stared at him, like you were still processing what he’d just said because, honestly? You were. Your whole body was screaming yes, but your brain? Your brain was still desperately trying to remind you that this could ruin your friendship.

“Ji…”

“Yeah, I know. We’re friends and all. And you don’t do friends. But what if… what if you just let yourself enjoy it? It wouldn’t ruin anything, I swear.”

It shouldn’t have been normal how ridiculously turned on you were from just a conversation. Your cute, hot friend was almost begging to date you. To fuck you. Specifically.

“And I can read you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, his eyes darker now. “I know you’re horny. I’d bet money you’re wet right now, because I actually pay attention to you.”

Your sanity was slipping. How the fuck did he know that? And more importantly, how the hell were you supposed to say no to him? If he could read you this well, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he could actually do to you if you let him. And you were so close. So close to letting him. Because you were really fucking horny, and everything was starting to blur together in your head.

“Okay.” It’s all you can manage to say, your body growing heavier, hotter with every passing second.

“Okay?” He tilts his head, smirking. “So you’ll let me show you? Use your words, pretty.”

You swallow hard. Fuck it.

“Yes, Jisung. I want you to show me.” Your voice is steady, but barely. “And yeah. I’m wet. I’m horny. You were right about that, too.” You lean in just slightly, challenging him. “So… what are you gonna do about it?”

“Fuck, baby… everyone already went inside since it’s getting dark. Wanna try to find a room for us? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“I doubt it, so…” 

You already knew you’d end up sleeping on the floor or crashing on some couch once you headed inside, there was no way any rooms were still available. You stand up without another word, heading straight for the couch near the pool, tucked away in a more private spot. The low walls should be enough to cover you.

Should be. But anyone could still walk in on you. Anytime. 

No doors. No locks.

Just the two of you, outside, where you definitely shouldn’t be doing this. And that only makes you want it more.

Jisung followed right behind you, and since you’d already given him permission to touch you, that’s exactly what he did the moment he got close enough. He was right there in front of you, still shirtless, somehow looking even hotter than he had two minutes ago. Or maybe you were just drunk and horny.

“I’m gonna kiss you.” His voice was low, his body radiating heat so close to yours. “And if you want me to stop, just… tell me. I’ll try.” He had that playful smile, but fuck, he looked so sexy you started wondering if you were even in your right mind.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, and finally, you felt his skin on yours, warm, firm, so good it sent a shiver through you. His lips brushed against yours, teasing, barely there. Then, his tongue traced your bottom lip before slipping inside, and you welcomed him so easily, sucking on it, responding to him like you were made for this. It was wet, hot, messy. So good you felt yourself melting between your legs. And then, as he held you even closer, you felt it… his cock, hard against you through his shorts, pressing right where you needed him most.

You couldn’t tell if you were just needy or if he was really the best kisser you’d ever had, because it had never felt this good. You’d never felt so overwhelmed just from a kiss. Jisung knew exactly what he was doing, and you had no idea how many minutes had passed since you started—kissing, pressing your bodies together, completely lost in it.

There was a couch right next to you, and you were starting to feel it—your legs weak, your body buzzing, the heat pooling between your thighs. You needed to sit down. Or maybe, you just needed more. Maybe sitting on him, that would be good. 

You pressed your hands against his chest, pushing him back just slightly. He pulled away immediately, eyes flickering with concern—until you wordlessly pointed to the couch. You couldn’t even trust yourself to speak, but he understood. Oh, he definitely understood. 

He grabbed your wrist and sat down, pulling you close until you were right where he wanted—on his lap. Fuck, you just knew you were going to soak his shorts. There was no way to avoid it. You were sitting directly on his hard cock, and then he started kissing you again. His hands rested on your waist before slowly moving up, his fingertips teasing just beneath the fabric of your bikini, making you desperate for him to actually touch your tits.

You whined against his mouth, hoping he’d understand just how needy you were for his touch. And apparently, he really could really read you… His hands moved higher, cupping your tits, feeling their weight before giving a gentle squeeze. You moaned at the sensation, not even realizing how you were pressing your breasts into his hands, silently begging for more.

He teased your sensitive nipples through the fabric, making you shiver, and you rolled your hips slowly, desperate for some friction. He moaned too, feeling you grind against his cock, and fuck, his mouth tasted like beer, a bit like weed, and a lot like you should’ve done this ages ago.

You couldn’t stop yourself so you kept grinding on his lap, your clit throbbing with every slow roll of your hips. And judging by the way he was whining between kisses, he was loving it just as much.

His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking and nipping, leaving love bites along your skin. Then he went lower, tugging your bikini top just enough to wrap his lips around your nipple. His wet tongue licked over the sensitive bud, making you moan a little louder now that his mouth wasn’t on yours to muffle the sound.

“Ji… feels so good,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. You didn’t want him to stop. He groaned against your skin, sucking harder as his hands grabbed your ass, squeezing tight, guiding your movements, making you grind even harder against his cock. You could easily cum like that.

His hands were everywhere—touching, groping, squeezing—grabbing every inch of your skin like he couldn’t get enough. You kissed him again, still rolling your hips, but a wave of embarrassment started creeping in because you knew you were close. If you kept this up just a little longer, you were going to cum.

“Gonna make me cum in my shorts like this…” he whispered against your lips, his voice strained. “You close? Wanna grind on my cock until you cum, baby?”

“Yes… so close…” you whined, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you moved faster, harder. Any trace of embarrassment disappeared the second you saw the way he was looking at you, his eyes dark with lust, filled with pure desire. “Gonna cum… fuck!”

Your orgasm hit you hard, your body shuddering as you slowly came to a stop, riding out your high. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and the realization made your head spin. Jisung held you close, his hands firm on your waist, his mouth still latched onto your nipple. Fucking hell, you’d only dry-humped him, and you already felt completely wrecked.

“That was so fucking hot.” He kissed your neck again, licking the sweat from your skin. “Wish we could do more, but it’s so fucking risky out here…”

“Yeah?” You were still catching your breath, your hands resting on his firm chest—now teasing his nipples. “What do you wanna do? Tell me.”

“Wish I could eat you out. Fuck, you’re dripping… I can feel it.” His words made you clench around nothing again. “Wish I could fuck this pretty mouth of yours.”

“Jisung…” His name left your lips in a breathy whimper as your hands slid down his body, tracing over his chest, his abs—until you reached his cock, hot and hard beneath his shorts. You pulled them down along with his underwear, freeing him completely. He was already leaking for you, so hard, so fucking ready for you to just sink down onto him. “Just wanna feel you inside me now,” you murmured, eyes locked on his. “You can eat me out and fuck my mouth another time.”

You knew you sounded desperate. You were desperate. But you didn’t care.

Instead, you pulled your bikini bottoms aside, rubbing his tip against your clit, using his precum to make yourself even wetter.

“Gonna let me fuck you raw, baby?” His voice was thick with desire as he watched you rub his cock against your clit, teasing yourself, teasing him. “Didn’t think you’d let me fuck you today… especially here, where someone could walk in on us.”

“Yeah? Let them see. I don’t care.” Your voice was breathy, reckless. “It’s dark anyway.” There was no condom, and it was obvious neither of you had one. “I’m on the pill… clean,” you reassured him, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m clean too,” he groaned, gripping your waist. “But fuck, baby… I’m gonna blow fast. Watching you cum like that almost did the job.”

“I don’t care, Ji. Just fuck me.”

“Then put it in,” he rasped. “I’m all yours.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been this wet in your life, not that it mattered, because Jisung was thick. He wasn’t huge, but the girth…

You guided him to your entrance, holding his cock at the base as you slowly sank down, feeling the delicious stretch as he filled you, inch by inch. You were already panting, creaming around him as you rolled your hips to adjust, every inch of him pressing against your walls just right. 

Jisung moaned, his hands finding your tits, teasing your nipples, making you want to scream from just that. Fuck, you were so needy.

“You’re taking me so well, baby…” His voice was a low growl, his hands sliding down to your waist, gripping tight as he helped you move. You started riding him, slow and deep, feeling every inch drag against your soaked, clenching walls. “Such a pretty pussy… so greedy, too…”

You clenched hard around him at his words, making him groan. He could feel how much you liked it. It was so hot—so fucking hot—you almost couldn’t believe you were actually letting your friend fuck you like this, there of all places. No one would believe it even if they saw you. And maybe that was part of what was turning you on so much. The risk. The filthiness of it. You didn’t even recognize yourself.

But you didn’t care about anything—not when he was buried balls deep inside you, stretching you, filling you so perfectly. Fuck.

You started moving faster, really riding him now, rolling your hips just right so your clit dragged against his pelvis with every grind. That friction alone was enough to push you closer to the edge again. You were a mess; sweating, moaning, completely fucked-out, and Jisung was staring at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

“You’re clenching so hard, think you can cum again? Wanna see you cumming all over my dick. Use me, come on.”

Fuck, how could you say no to that? He gripped your waist to help you grind against him, his cock buried so deep inside you it was hurting, but it felt so good you just kept moving, your hips moving on their own, desperate, needy, chasing that high. You felt the orgasm coming, it hit you like a wave, ripping a moan from your throat so loud he had to shove his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. You sucked on his fingers while cumming hard on his cock, almost crying from pleasure, feeling the way he was throbbing inside you, probably holding himself to not to blow.

"Fuck, I’m gonna cum…" Jisung groaned, pulling his fingers from your mouth and gripping your waist so tight you knew he’d leave marks. "Inside?"

"Yeah… fill me up, please…"

You were trembling, breathless, drooling, desperate to feel his hot release spilling inside you. It would be so messy… you already felt filthy, but fuck, it felt so good.

With a deep, shuddering moan, he came inside you, biting his lip to muffle his sounds, his body tensing as he spilled deep. You could feel it, warm and thick, already leaking from your overstimulated pussy while he stayed buried inside you, still pulsing. Slowly, you lifted your hips, savoring the way he slipped out of you before adjusting your bikini back into place, like nothing had just happened. 

"Yeah, I believe you now." You helped him adjust his clothes, smoothing them back into place. "You really know how to satisfy your girls, Ji."

"Told you." He smirked, eyes closed, breath still heavy, his skin glistening with sweat. "The body talks, baby. We just have to listen."

And he had listened, he knew exactly how badly you wanted him, touching you just right the entire time. You couldn’t argue with that. He was good. So good. And as you lay there, catching your breath, you realized you didn’t regret a thing. No guilt, no second thoughts, just satisfaction

"See? We’re still friends. Nothing bad happened." He held your hand, his gaze locked on yours. "And we should do this again, you know?"

"Oh, we will. I still remember you saying you wanted to eat me out. No way I’m missing that."

"And fuck your mouth." He smirked. "Stop that, or you’re gonna make me hard again."

"Is that a problem?"

"Depends… if you’ll let me fuck you again."

"Not here, Ji. We could get caught. But tomorrow…"

Oh, there was no doubt—you were definitely doing this again. 

Jisung chuckled, running his fingers lazily over your thigh, teasing, but not pushing. 

"Tomorrow, then." His voice was husky, laced with promise.

You stood up, adjusting your bikini enough to head into the shower as he leaned back, watching you with dark, satisfied eyes. The way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine, like he was already planning what he’d do to you next.

"Better get some rest, baby," he murmured. "You’ll need it."

You smirked, biting your lip as you turned to leave, already feeling anticipation curling low in your stomach.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

girl dads!

ft; reo, barou (bllk), osamu (hq!!!), sanji (op), kurapika (hxh)

girl dad!reo, who is always giving his beloved little princess anything she wants. does she want to have pasta for dinner tonight? say no more, he's calling the most authentic restaurant from italy to ship their most delicious and high quality dish at the fastest that they can. does she want to go to an amusement park? of course, he'll rent out the largest amusement park in tokyo, and he'll even buy it if she especially enjoys it. you're always scolding him, saying that he's coddling her too much, but reo just laughs it off every damn time. after all, how is he supposed to deny his lovely baby daughter, who resembles her beautiful mother so much? both of you are his pride and joy, after all.

girl dad!barou, who is both the breadwinner and the housewife of the family. he can't believe it; it's like taking care of his younger sisters and pregnant mother all over again. both of his daughters cling to him every day, and barou eventually begrudgingly accepts his fate. reading them stories every night, cooking for them, teaching them how to do their homework, teaching them how to clean, cleaning for them, taking them out shopping, feeding them, and attempting to talk to them as gently as he possibly can. he admits that he might be just a little bit protective of them, especially considering how many veins pop out whenever he sees them at elementary school, being a little too close with a little boy nearby.

girl dad!osamu, who is already teaching his little girl how to make the best onigiri. at age 4, she already seems to be an incredible fit to take over onigiri miya when you and osamu are both going to retire in decades. every night, no matter how grueling business was that day, osamu always makes sure to spend time with his daughter, whether it's feeding her or reading her a story or telling her about a new recipe of his. when she has a nightmare, she climbs into your and osamu's bed on osamu's side, clinging to him in her sleep. whenever she gets a good score, she always shows osamu first. you're definitely a little jealous, but you can't help but feel warm and happy at the same time.

girl dad!sanji, who would never dare raise his voice or hand against his sweet daughter. he truly adores her more than anything else--aside from you, his beloved wife, of. always hoisting his daughter's small, chubby body over his shoulders while teaching her how to cook, always showing her different moves for her to defend herself against creeps, always refusing to smoke around her to protect “her precious lungs” (quoted directly from sanji), always clashing with zoro whenever he says something even slightly harsh to sanji's daughter, always protecting her from everyone and everything. you say that he pampers her too much, but he just grins and tells you that it's fine.

girl dad!kurapika, who refuses to believe that his daughter could ever do any wrong. his arms are crossed at the principal's office, his small daughter seated next to him. apparently, she had punched a kid for making fun of her; kurapika thinks it's ridiculous. if the kid didn't want a consequence, then he shouldn't have made fun of her in the first place. kurapika is a busy man, running the nostrade family's mafia, he doesn't have time for some idiotic fools who only look at things one-sidedly, especially on a side against his daughter. he snappily tells the principal some snappy remarks before taking his daughter's hand and leaving, telling her that she did nothing wrong and that the school is just stupid.

a/n: i wanted to include kurama from yu yu hakusho so bad, but like no one knows yu yu hakusho these days😢

[heliosunny]

Hi :)

Could you please add Sampo to your lucky egg series?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Sampo x Reader

You really should’ve known something was wrong the moment the Lucky Egg cracked open.

A prize wasn’t supposed to grin at you. A prize wasn’t supposed to stretch, roll its shoulders, and whistle like it just woke up from a nap. And a prize definitely wasn’t supposed to sling an arm around your shoulders and say

“Well, well, well! Would ya look at that? My lucky day!”

He was tall, cocky, and way too familiar for someone you’d never met. Messy hair, sharp mint eyes, a salesman’s smile that stretched a little too wide.

Your fingers tightened around the empty egg. “What… the hell?”

He leaned in, elbow resting on your shoulder. “C’mon now, don’t look so spooked! You just got yourself the best prize in the whole batch—yours truly, Sampo Koski!”

Your eye twitched. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Sure you did!” Sampo reached into his coat and—somehow—pulled out a contract. With your name on it.

Since when did you sign anything?

Sampo tapped the paper with a satisfied hum. “Yep, all official! By opening that egg, ya agreed to our lil’ arrangement—”

“What arrangement?”

Sampo grinned. “Why, our partnership, of course! You broke the egg, and now ya got me! Your own personal, one-of-a-kind, invaluable… ah, what’s the word…” He snapped his fingers. “Asset! And with me, comes a liiittle contract.”

He flicked the paper playfully. “Long story short? You owe me, boss!”

You grabbed the contract and skimmed through it, blood draining from your face.

It was absurd. Somehow, the fine print listed a debt. Your debt. For services, for protection, for a “priceless once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

And the price?

Never-ending favors.

Your hands clenched. “You—this is a scam.”

Sampo clutched his chest, gasping like you’d wounded him. “Ouch, boss! That’s a harsh word!”

You shoved the contract against his chest. “I’m not paying for this.”

His grin didn’t waver. In fact, it got worse. “Oh, you don’t gotta pay right away!”

“Right away?”

Sampo hummed, stepping closer, boxing you in before you could move.

“Debt’s gotta be repaid one way or another, sugar. And don’t worry”

“I’ll make sure you don’t forget.”

“What does ‘debt’ truly mean to you?” you asked, voice even despite the weight in your chest.

Sampo tilted his head, the corners of his mouth quirking up like you’d asked something funny. “Ah, now there’s a question! Debt, my dear boss, is the foundation of all good business. A little give, a little take—balance, y’see?”

He tapped the paper in your hands. “And right now, the balance is in my favor.”

“You make it sound like I asked for this.”

He laughed like this was all just a game. “C’mon, boss, don’t be so stiff! You cracked the egg, so that means you wanted somethin’, right?”

“I thought I was getting a normal prize.”

Sampo tsked, wagging a finger. “Ah, see, that’s where ya went wrong! ’Cause luck—real luck—isn’t about what you expect. It’s about what you get. And me?” His smirk widened, all teeth, all mischief, all something else lurking beneath.

“Well, I’m just the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to ya.”

Your fingers curled around the contract. “And what if I don’t want this ‘luck’?”

For the first time, Sampo didn’t answer right away.

Then, slow and deliberate, he took a step forward. Then another.

You took a step back, but you bumped against the counter.

Sampo leaned in, one hand bracing beside you. The other reached out, fingertips brushing yours, pressing lightly against the contract still in your grasp.

“That’s the thing about debt, sugar.”

The air between you was too warm.

“It doesn’t care if you want it or not.”

Sampo tapped the paper once, like sealing a deal. “It just stays.”

He leaned back just as quickly, all casual, all easy charm, as if he hadn’t just backed you into a corner.

“Now!” he clapped his hands together. “Since we’re partners an’ all, how ‘bout I do ya a favor? First one’s free!”

You exhaled, steadying yourself. “You just said nothing’s free.”

Sampo winked. “Consider it a show of good faith!”

Somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better.

You should’ve known better than to accept anything from Sampo Koski.

At first, his “favors” seemed harmless. Little things. “Just helpin’ ya out, boss! What kinda business partner would I be if I didn’t?”

Lost your keys? Sampo already had a spare.

Too tired to run errands? He’d taken care of them.

Had a problem at work? Miraculously, it vanished.

You started noticing other things, too. The way people treated you differently—either oddly respectful or strangely wary, as if they knew something you didn’t.

And Sampo never gave you a straight answer.

“Eh, word gets around, y’know? Good connections and all that.”

The first real warning came when you mentioned needing to pay off your own debts.

You were sitting at the table, skimming through your finances, muttering about overdue bills.

Sampo, leaning back lazily in his chair, tilted his head. “Debt, huh? Must be rough.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I can’t just make problems disappear.”

Sampo hummed, twirling a coin between his fingers. “Who says I can’t do that for ya?”

You shot him a look. “What?”

“I mean” he said easily, flipping the coin before catching it “if debt’s such a pain, wouldn’t it be nice if it just… went away?”

You frowned. “That’s not how the world works, Sampo.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, eyes sharp despite the lazy smirk. “Ain’t it? ‘Cause from where I’m sittin’, debts can be erased real quick—if ya know the right people.”

“…You didn’t do anything, did you?”

Sampo blinked, then laughed. “Boss, boss, boss. So accusatory! C’mon now, gimme a little credit.”

You set your pen down carefully. “Tell me the truth, Sampo.”

He held up his hands, all innocence. “I’m just sayin’—if ya ever need a little ‘help,’ ya just gotta ask.”

You pushed your papers away. “I’ll handle it myself.”

Sampo’s smirk didn’t waver, but you caught the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something calculating.

Then he shrugged. “Suit yourself!”

But somehow, you didn’t feel like you’d just ended the conversation.

The Second Warning Sign

You were starting to wonder how much of your life was still yours.

You hadn’t told Sampo your schedule. But he knew.

You never mentioned what stores you liked. But he always seemed to be there first.

You never asked him to handle problems, but somehow, they just stopped happening.

The last straw came when your phone died at work, and you borrowed a friend’s.

That’s when you realized… your calls were being redirected.

You stood there, staring at the screen. You tried again. Different number. Same result.

Every attempt to call someone—anyone—looped back to Sampo.

What the hell had he done?

You stormed back home, shoving the door open.

Sampo, sitting comfortably on the couch, smiled like he’d been expecting you.

“Heya, boss! Ya look tense. Long day?”

You slammed your phone on the table. “What the hell did you do?”

Sampo blinked. “Now, now. That’s a broad question, ain’t it?”

Your hands clenched. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. My calls. My messages. Everything’s going through you.”

He exhaled, like he was disappointed. “Aww, ya caught that already? Thought I’d get a few more days before ya noticed.”

That infuriating smirk. That easy tone, like he wasn’t completely violating your privacy.

“You—”

“Hey, now,” Sampo cut in smoothly, “don’t get all worked up. It’s for your own good, boss!”

You froze. “My own—?”

Sampo stood. “D’you know how many folks wanna take advantage of ya? I mean, you’re a real catch! All those people whisperin’, tryin’ to pull ya this way an’ that…”

He took a step closer. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya. That’s all.”

Your breath caught.

“You trust me, don’t ya?”

You didn’t know when it started.

At some point, the scales began tipping back in your favor.

Maybe it was the egg’s influence, the bond between you and Sampo strengthening over time. Maybe it was the sheer force of your will, refusing to be just another piece on his board. Whatever the cause, things had changed.

He still smiled, still teased, still played the part of the charming rogue. But there were moments—fleeting, where you saw something else.

A pause before he acted. A hesitation before he spoke.

Like he was… checking himself.

Like, for the first time, you had the power to push back.

It happened one evening. You’d spent the whole day testing the bond, subtle at first—forcing him to hesitate, making him hold his tongue. By the time the sun had set, you were certain.

He felt it.

And he hated it.

You found him in the kitchen, back turned as he fiddled with something on the counter.

"Sampo."

His hands stilled. Then, slow and easy, he turned, flashing you his usual grin.

"Boss! Fancy seein’ ya here. Was just whippin’ up somethin’ special for ya."

You crossed your arms. "We need to talk."

"Aw, sounds serious. Should I be worried?"

You stepped closer. "Why do you act like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you own me."

That wiped the smile clean off his face.

For the first time, Sampo Koski looked genuinely caught off guard.

His fingers twitched against the counter. His mouth opened, but no words came. You didn’t give him the chance to dodge.

"You’ve been pushing, Sampo. Pulling strings. Cutting off my choices, controlling my life. But now…" You exhaled, slow and steady. "I think you feel it too."

His jaw tightened.

"I’m not just a piece in your game anymore," you continued. "You’re stuck with me just as much as I’m stuck with you. And now that the bond’s strong enough, you can’t just ignore me when I push back, can you?"

Sampo’s grip on the counter tightened.

For a moment, he was silent.

Then, just as quickly, he laughed.

"Ah, ya got me, boss! I was wonderin’ when ya’d figure it out." He straightened, tapping his fingers on the surface. "Guess I underestimated ya a lil’ bit. My bad, my bad!"

You didn’t believe that for a second.

But you let him talk. Because now, you were watching him.

"You’re not gonna do anything like that again"

Sampo placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. "C’mon, boss, ya really think I’d cross ya like that?"

You gave him a flat look.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright, fair. Look, how ‘bout this? As a lil’ apology for all the… past misunderstandings, I made somethin’ special for ya!"

He turned back to the counter, picking up a small tray of chocolates.

Your brow furrowed. "...You made these?"

Sampo scoffed. "What, ya think I can’t cook? I’m offended, really."

You eyed him, but he just held up the tray, grinning like this was some grand peace offering.

"Go on, boss. Just one bite!"

You hesitated.

Sampo tilted his head, smiling just a little too wide. "What, don’t trust me?"

Of course, you didn’t. But if he was trying to mend things, even if it was just a farce, you had to take the step.

Slowly, you picked up one of the chocolates and took a bite.

Rich. Smooth. A little too sweet.

And then—

A warmth spread through your chest, down your spine, curling at the edges of your nerves.

You swallowed, heart suddenly racing. "Sampo."

"Boss."

Your fingers curled against the counter. "What did you put in this?"

Sampo’s smile widened, all slow satisfaction.

"Just a lil’ somethin’ extra" he admitted, voice dipping.

The warmth intensified. A shiver ran through you, and your knees felt weak. Your mind was still catching up when Sampo stepped in, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up.

"See" he murmured, voice smooth, "I get it now, boss. I really do. You want control. You wanna stand on equal ground."

He leaned in, breath fanning against your cheek.

"That’s fine by me."

"But ya gotta remember—"

Your pulse pounded.

"—I ain’t lettin’ ya go that easy."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but Sampo just chuckled, low and knowing.

"Don’t worry, boss." He brushed a thumb over your lower lip. "I’ll take real good care of ya."

You should’ve known.

Sampo Koski never gave anything for free.

The heat spread too fast.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears, your body too warm, too sensitive, too aware.

Sampo was still too close.

His fingers, traced just beneath your chin, guiding your face toward him with a patience that felt deliberate.

"Boss, you’re lookin’ a little flushed there."

"You—" Your breath hitched when his thumb brushed over your lip, leaving a faint smudge of chocolate behind.

Sampo chuckled.

"Aw, no need to be shy now." His other hand found your hip "C’mon, boss. Ain’t this a good moment for a lil’ bonding?"

Your body betrayed you, leaning slightly into his touch before you even realized.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

And it pleased him.

"Look atcha," he hummed, fingers pressing just a bit firmer at your waist. "Takin’ it so well, too."

You tried to reel yourself back in, the heat curling under your skin made everything feel too slow, too heavy.

Sampo took full advantage of that.

His nose brushed against your cheek, lingering just a second too long before he tilted your head up further.

"Y’know, boss," he murmured, "if ya just let yourself sink into it, I bet it’d feel real nice."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, unsure whether you meant to pull him closer or push him away.

His breath was warm against your lips.

"Boss..." he whispered.

A sharp knock on the door.

The world snapped back into focus.

You jerked away, your body still sluggish from whatever he’d slipped into the chocolate.

"Guess we’ll have to pick this up later" he drawled.

You needed to get your control back.

The knock at the door shattered the moment—but the heat remained.

Your pulse was too fast, your body still thrumming too warm from whatever Sampo had laced into that damn chocolate. Your breath came uneven as you took a step back, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

Sampo, on the other hand—

Completely unbothered.

He merely tilted his head, eyes flicking lazily toward the door. "Huh. Now who’d be droppin’ by at this hour?"

"I’ll get it" you muttered, pushing past him.

Sampo let you go, but not without one last parting touch, his fingers grazing along your lower back as you walked away. A touch so light, so fleeting that you might’ve imagined it if not for the way your body reacted.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heat still curling at your spine.

A delivery worker stood there, looking mildly bored as they held up a small package. "Drop-off for Y/N. Sign here."

You scribbled your name, eager for any distraction.

"Pleasure doin’ business with you!" The worker saluted lazily before heading off.

Sampo leaned against the counter, watching you with a knowing smirk.

"Package, huh? What’d ya order, boss?"

"None of your business." You turned away, forcing normalcy into your tone.

"Aw, now that hurts. After all we just went through, ya still won’t share secrets with me?"

You shot him a glare. "You mean after you drugged me?"

Sampo’s grin widened.

"C’mon, boss. That’s a harsh way to put it." He took a slow step forward, his presence looming despite his casual posture. "I’d call it… enhancin’ the mood. Helpin’ ya relax a little."

Your grip on the package tightened.

"You keep acting like I don’t notice what you’re doing."

Sampo chuckled. "I’d be insulted if ya didn’t."

He wasn’t trying to hide anything—he was teasing. Testing. Seeing how far he could push.

And worse is- you couldn’t fully push back.

Not when the egg’s bond had tied you both together.

Sampo hummed, stepping back just as easily as he’d closed in. "Alright, alright. No need to get all tense, boss. How ‘bout we just move on, huh?"

Your wariness must’ve been obvious, because he held his hands up in surrender. "Look, I get it. You wanna be the one in control now. I respect that! So, let’s call this a fresh start, yeah?"

Sampo Koski, for all his tricks, still had one weakness.

His own arrogance.

"Fine" you said. "Fresh start."

Sampo beamed, stepping back toward the stove. "Now, that’s what I like to hear! Now, how ‘bout I whip us up somethin’ for dinner? A real treat this time, no funny business."

"Fine" you muttered.

Sampo hummed cheerfully, already gathering ingredients. Already acting like he’d won.

But this wasn’t over.

The exhaustion hit fast and hard.

Maybe it was the lingering effects of whatever Sampo had put in the chocolate. Maybe it was the weight of constantly keeping up with him, countering his tricks, staying on guard.

Either way, you barely touched the food he made before sleep dragged you under.

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee.

For a moment, just a moment, everything felt… normal. The warmth of the blankets, the distant hum of the city outside, the soft clinking of dishes.

Suddenly you remembered. Sampo. The bond. The "fresh start."

Your eyes snapped open.

Your room looked the same as always.

And yet, you felt it.

Something was different.

Your phone was exactly where you left it. Your things were untouched. But the air carried his presence, his influence.

Just as the thought settled in, your door creaked open.

"Morning, boss!" Sampo greeted far too cheerfully, balancing a tray with coffee and breakfast. "Hope ya slept well!"

Your guard snapped up instantly.

"C’mon now, don’t look at me like that. ‘Member? Fresh start?"

So, you took a breath, forced your shoulders to relax, and reached for the coffee.

"Atta boss! Knew you’d warm up to me." He perched himself on the edge of your bed, completely at ease. "So! What’s the plan for today?"

You took a slow sip, using the moment to gather your thoughts.

If Sampo was really playing into this “fresh start” act, then you needed to play along.

"Work" you said simply.

Sampo pouted. "Aw, all business, huh? No time for ol’ Sampo?"

You gave him a look. He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Guess I’ll just have to find ways to entertain myself."

"Like what?" you asked carefully.

Sampo hummed, swirling his coffee. "Oh, y’know. Lil’ bit of this, lil’ bit of that. Maybe I’ll go explore! Make some new friends."

You didn’t like the sound of that.

But pressing too hard would only make him enjoy it more.

"As long as you don’t get into trouble" you said dryly.

Sampo grinned.

"No promises, boss."

Sampo finished his coffee with a pleased hum, setting the cup down before stretching with exaggerated ease. Like a fox who’d just settled into a den he had no intention of leaving.

"Well then, boss" he drawled, resting his arms behind his head. "Since ya got work an’ all, I guess I’ll have to keep myself entertained today. No promises on stayin’ outta trouble, but I’ll try to be good, just for you."

"You’re not making me feel any better about this" you muttered, setting down your coffee.

"Wouldn’t be me if I did, now would I?"

You sighed, pushing off the bed. You had to get ready. The sooner you got out of here, the sooner you could clear your head.

"Just don’t do anything that makes me have to clean up after you" you said over your shoulder.

"Ah, c’mon, boss. Ain’tcha got a lil’ more faith in me?"

No.

But you didn’t say it out loud.

Instead, you grabbed your things, threw on your jacket, and stepped out the door before he could say anything else.

By the time you finished your shift, you were feeling a little more like yourself again. Being away from Sampo, even for a few hours, helped clear your thoughts. You had to keep a level head. If you let him keep steering things, you’d lose control completely. And that could not happen.

But as you stepped out of work, ready to finally get some air, a familiar figure leaned against the wall outside, hands tucked lazily into his pockets.

"Heya, boss," Sampo greeted smoothly. "Miss me?"

Your steps halted.

"...How long have you been standing there?"

Sampo shrugged. "Long enough."

"You didn’t have to come get me."

"Oh, but I did. Who else is gonna make sure ya get home safe?"

You glanced around. "Sampo. What did you do today?"

"Oh, just some errands. Took a lil’ stroll. Chatted with some friendly faces."

You narrowed your eyes. "Sampo."

"Boss," he echoed back, just as casual.

He was hiding something. And you had the feeling that by the time you found out, it would already be too late.

You knew that grin. That too-easy, too-smug expression. The one he wore whenever he was five steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

Sampo Koski didn’t just take a stroll. He did something.

And you needed to find out what.

"Errands, huh?" you echoed, keeping your voice even.

"That’s what I said."

"Where exactly did you go?"

Sampo tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Ah, y’know. Here and there. A shop or two. Nothin’ worth fussin’ over."

"Which shops?"

"Aw, boss, ya interrogatin’ me? Feels a little unfair, don’t ya think? Ain’t a guy allowed to have some personal business?"

"Not when that guy is you."

Sampo let out a low whistle. "Ouch. That stings."

He was stalling.

Which meant you were right.

He did do something.

So, you tried a different approach.

"You said you talked to some friendly faces" you said, watching him carefully. "Who?"

"Oh, y’know. Just some folks here and there. Nice people."

Vague. Too vague.

But-

You caught it.

A glint of amusement, like he was waiting for you to put the pieces together.

"Sampo. Did you talk to my friends?"

"Bingo."

"...Why?"

Sampo tilted his head. "Well, ya know me, boss. Just a concerned fella lookin’ out for his favorite person."

"What did you say to them?"

Sampo chuckled, reaching out to pat your head.

You jerked back.

"Relax, relax," he soothed. "Didn’t do nothin’ crazy. Just had a lil’ chat, is all."

"Sampo."

"Boss" he said, mocking your tone.

Your patience snapped.

"Sampo, I swear, if you—"

"All I did," he cut in smoothly, "was remind ‘em of a few things. How easy it is for folks to get mixed up in bad deals. How sometimes, people ain’t always what they seem."

"You—"

"So really, boss," he murmured, "if they ain’t got nothin’ to hide, they got nothin’ to worry about. Right?"

You didn’t know exactly what he told them, but you knew Sampo.

He didn’t just warn them off.

He planted something. Just enough to make them hesitate.

And in doing so, he was isolating you.

"You had no right"

Sampo just smiled.

"Aw, boss" he sighed. "Ain’t that what debt’s all about?"

He tapped your chin playfully.

"Rights don’t matter. Just what’s owed."

You slapped his hand away.

He let you.

"You can’t keep doing this. You can’t just decide things for me."

"Boss, boss, boss. I ain’t decidin’ anything. I’m just makin’ sure you see things clearly."

"Lying to my friends isn’t ‘seeing clearly.’"

"Ah, but if I’m lyin’, then why ain’t they here, huh?" He tapped his temple. "Think real hard about it. If they really trusted ya, really knew ya, then one lil’ talk wouldn’t shake ‘em, would it?"

You felt like you’d been punched.

Because it worked.

"See?" he murmured. "Told ya. It’s just business, boss."

You couldn’t let him win.

You shoved past him, ignoring the way he laughed as you stormed ahead.

"I’m going home" you said sharply. "And you’re not coming with me."

Sampo let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Aw, boss. Now that’s just cold."

You didn’t answer.

You just kept walking.

By the time you reached your apartment, your pulse was still hammering.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers to your temples.

You needed to fix this.

Click

The door unlocked.

Behind you.

A voice, smooth as silk, just inches from your ear.

"Now, now, boss," Sampo murmured, his warmth pressing against your back. "That ain’t very fair, is it?"

You spun—

Sampo caught your wrist.

Not playful.

Not teasing.

Not anymore.

"You were gonna leave me behind?" he asked, voice still light, but something in his grip said he wasn’t giving you a choice.

"You broke in" you whispered.

Sampo chuckled, tilting his head. "C’mon, boss. You really think I need to ‘break in’? I got a key, remember?"

He was right.

You’d given him one. Back when you thought this was just Sampo being Sampo.

Back when you thought you had control.

"You need to go"

Sampo hummed. "Now why would I do that?"

"Because I don’t want you here."

His fingers tightened around your wrist.

"And yet," he murmured, pulling you closer, "here I am."

You fought to steady your breathing.

"You’re not listening to me"

Sampo sighed dramatically. "Oh, I’m listenin’, boss. Loud n’ clear."

"But I don’t like what I’m hearin’."

"You can’t just—"

"Can’t what?" Sampo cut in, finally letting the mask slip.

For the first time, you saw it clearly.

The obsession.

"You think you can just walk away from me? After all this? After everythin’ we been through?"

His grip slid from your wrist to your chin.

"Now, boss" he said, smiling again. "That don’t sound fair to me."

And for the first time you realized

You weren’t leaving this room until he decided you could.

Sampo still had that same lazy grin, but his grip on your chin was firm—too firm.

"You’re not being reasonable" you said, keeping your voice calm, measured. "This isn’t—"

"Ain’t about bein’ reasonable, boss." His thumb brushed your cheek. "It’s about what’s owed."

"You keep saying that."

Sampo tilted his head. "Well, ‘cause it’s true."

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. "Then tell me, Sampo—what do I owe you?"

He leaned in.

"Everything."

"You’re insane" you whispered.

Sampo chuckled. "Probably."

You had to get out.

Before this went too far.

Before he decided to take more than you could handle.

Sampo’s grin turned wolfish.

"Ah, boss," he sighed, shaking his head. "Always tryna squirm outta things. Just like the first time, huh?"

The egg.

The thought hit you like a bullet.

That bond—it went both ways.

You had some control. Not much. Just enough.

You closed your eyes. Focused. Pushed against the connection between you.

Sampo’s grip loosened. Just a fraction.

But it was enough.

You ripped yourself free, stumbling back.

Sampo blinked, surprised.

Then—

He laughed.

Laughed.

"Well, well," he mused, brushing his thumb over his lower lip. "Ain’t that somethin’."

You didn’t waste time. You bolted for the door.

Before you could reach it—

"Y’know, boss," he murmured. "If ya really wanna run—"

Click

The lock snapped shut.

"I’ll always be right behind ya."

You spun, his hand rested against the door next to your head. His other hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

That same lazy smirk.

That same easy, unshakable confidence.

Like he already knew how this would end.

You weren’t getting away.

"Ain’t no such thing as a debt that don’t get paid, boss."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"And I always collect."

[milla-frenchy]

WIP wednesday

Thank you for the tag @thundermartini ❤️

Here's a snippet for @yxtkiwiyxt 's never have I ever challenge ❤️ with this prompt

Soooo, this will be a dbf!javi fic 😌

“Seat belt,” he ordered.

“What?” 

“Jesus, you’re always so fucking dumb when you're drunk?” he asked sharply, leaning over you to grab the seat belt and pull it in front of you before finally fastening it.

“You smell good, Javi.”

“Seriously? How many drinks did you have? Just… stop talking, ok? You're gonna give me a headache with your drunk high pitched voice.”

“Ok, you fucking stink, then,” you giggled.

He rolled his eyes and started the car. “Don’t puke in my truck”, he warned.

“Of course, who do you take me for?” You looked at him then whispered, “don’t say anything if it’s mean,” your index finger pointed at him while laughing, before pressing it against your lips playfully.

He sighed again and mumbled something in Spanish that you didn't understand, but that didn’t sound nice, for sure.

“I always wondered, you know,” you said in a confidential tone.

“Don't you ever shut up,” he sighed. “Wondered what?”

“How big it is.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, regretting it almost immediately. He interrogated hundreds of sicarios with a cool head, but seemed unable to cut down your drunken gibberish, much to his dismay.

“Your dick. You’ve got a big dick, for sure.”

He choked and you chuckled before you continued “there's not much for the imagination with these jeans… right, leftie guy? But how big?”

“Fuck, what is wrong with you? You talk to your father with this mouth?” he barked, icy gaze fixed on yours, his body frozen in shock at your audacity.

“What are you gonna do to shut me up, Mr. DEA agent?” you said, still pushing him. “Use your handcuffs? I think I’d like it,” you said with a wide smile.

npt: @aurorawritestoescape @toxicanonymity @iamasaddie @604to647 @itwasntimethatdidit40

@schnarfer @sawymredfox @sizzlingcloudmentality @guiltyasdave @baronessvonglitter

@iknowisoundcrazy @evolnoomym @corazondebeskar-reads @pedge-page @tateypots

@bonezone44 @magpiepills @joelmillerisapunk @almostfoxglove @jolapeno

@yxtkiwiyxt

[dreamyluigi]

superstar saga luigi crashout thoughts

looking once again at this awesome piece by yamari-san and how it sparked a lot of thoughts in my brain about luigi's treatment throughout SS

(link to the pic, this artist is also a huge inspiration for me)

through this whole game luigi is consistently ignored/disrespected by almost every NPC who recognizes mario, always being seen as That Other Guy or The Brother Guy or Lu... Louis? What Was His Name Again? etc. i like to think for the most part luigi is so used to this already, like it's par for the course for awhile especially in the beginning of the game - like, this is the first time (by RPG standards) he's actually gotten to travel alongside his brother like this. he didn't want to, but i think as time goes on he finds himself enjoying their time together and feels useful for once. despite that, NPCs continuously disrespect him throughout the course of the game, even after he's proven himself to be just as strong and capable as mario. you'd think after awhile that starts to wear on a guy, right?

of course there are random characters who admire luigi, there always will be. and characters who genuinely acknowledge him as a superstar like mario! but... even peasley disrespects him at times, despite being one of the ones who also gives him compliments and a confidence boost. maybe he's a little airheaded and doesn't recognize some of the disrespectful things he does/says but at the end of it all luigi is still rejected.

luigi's number one goal is to help mario, and i think he'd let mario do just about anything to him in order to achieve that. but i think the culmination of multiple characters ignoring him, forgetting him, etc., and then being hammered into a surfboard just makes him boil over. like... for real, the joke's over. the name Joke's End is the perfect area and time for him to just completely lose it. he's done being just useful, he has worked so hard, done so much to help, he wants recognition for his efforts - not just from the people they help but from mario himself too.

mario of courseeee loves him so much and is probably too thickheaded to even think he did anything wrong. but when weegee finally snaps at him to take him seriously! no one ever takes him seriously! i finally get to come on an adventure with you and nobody even cares! why do i have to be the surfboard!? i think they have a long talk about it... and mario absolutely agrees that luigi deserves just as much superstardom as he does. it's something they've needed to acknowlege forever but just never did because luigi always stayed back, stayed behind, willingly, perhaps out of cowardice perhaps out of fear that he'd drag mario down. but after realizing they have perfect synergy in battle and outside of it, his confidence grows. mario gives him that strength. and he needs to be respected for it!

for as much shit as folks like to give starlow, she is not even in this game and it's the most luigi has ever been disrespected... she has her moments of course but i feel like it balances out with her being kind of the only source of grief luigi gets. in other M&L games after SS i think luigi gets a lot less BS from random NPCs so it doesn't feel as harsh to me? maybe i'm a starlow apologist. i think she's funny. i don't think luigi appreciates it but i think it affects him less than nearly everyone in SS being like Who is this guy lol. Why are you wearing mario's clothes. Are you a fanboy or something (he is but like damn!)

it makes me happy that snoutlet exists. luigi always needs a little bit of bullying as a treat, but the way snoutlet absolutely loves him, praises him, thinks he's a genius, it's what he deserves after all this time of being forgotten or disrespected. and i think mario watching the progression throughout the M&L series of folks respecting and loving luigi more and more the more adventures they take together makes him feel happy and fuzzy inside too. he's a humble guy and seeing his brother get praised makes him feel much more proud than if it was directed at himself

"M&L RPGs aren't sequential-" to me they are. if you look hard enough you will see.

[m1ssu2p1an0]

OMG HELLO!!! I have a request...

you dont have to do this if you dont want to! but basically, can you do PLATONIC awakened pure vanilla cookie comforting anxious/quiet!reader?

Things have been tough and honeslty I think we all need to cry into his arms and be comforted by him </3 fatherly pv hugs would be so soothing and could make anyone feel better,,,

Of course I can, my friend! I truly hope you feel better, we all love PV around here (Because gender isn’t specified, reader will be GN!) But I hope you enjoy it, and hope you feel better as well, only wish the best for you! <3

“I am here..”

Awakened PV & GN!Anxious/Quiet reader

To say you didn’t feel great was an utter understatement. It’s like you fallen ill. Ever since arriving to the kingdom, it’s like you couldn’t help but have sickening thoughts cloud your senses. The mere feeling that someone’s watching you and judging your every move gets so draining, even tiring.

Your behavior slipped past many as you just adjusting to everything around you and what’s ahead for you in the following days, but your actions didn’t seem to go unnoticed by the sweet cookie that had nothing but worries for you.

You were sat at a bench, looking into the water, sub-cautiously looking around as you let out a small huff that could pass as a sigh. The previously mentioned cookie had approached you unknowingly as it took you a bit to notice him. Looking to your left you see him facing what was ahead before turning to look at you, noticing your tensed posture and anxious actions.

“Well hello, my dear. I apologize for startling you, it truly wasn’t my intention..”

His voice was smooth like butter as it seemed to ease your worries a tad, your mind racing as you began to overthink before you were interrupted by his voice once more.

“What seems to be the matter? You always seem so.. scared.. is there anything wrong?”

His question overwhelmed you, causing you to cower away slightly, saying nothing. It was like there was a lump stuck in your throat, no matter what you did you couldn’t seem to escape it. You watched as he eased up, as if he was shrinking himself to look less intimidating, the bright light that seemed to emit from him dimming. Yet the warm feeling from it was still very evident. Your mouth opened but no words, causing you to hesitate as you shook your head.

“I really don’t try to pester, but just know I’ll be here as a shoulder to lean on, and even cry upon..”

Those simple words made your chest clench, your hand coming up to grasp right over your heart. It was pretty cheesy, yet nobody has ever tried to even attempt to ask if anything was wrong. But that was probably due to you being like a turtle in a shell. You’re always clammed up, too afraid to say or do something wrong. Just thinking about it brought you to tears as they slowly fell down. The sight caused him to worry, hesitantly getting closer, unsure if you were okay with it. But not seeing you move away, and instead lean in was practically a green light for him.

He placed his staff down, hands going up to, very carefully, hold you in his arms. His fingers ran through your hair in a soothing way as you softly mumbled small things, about how you felt, your worries, your fears. It was all too warm, like a parent’s hug after you fell and hurt your knee. It only made tears fall quicker.

“It’s okay, my child.. I’m right here..”

Small hiccups left your lips as your hold tightened around the king, his hold unwavering as well.

“There’s nothing to worry about, you’re safe here.. you are a blessed child of light, never let worries drag you to your lowest. Trust me, my child, I’ve been there before.. Now, when you’re ready to continue talking about how you feel, I’ll be here still. I’ll wait for you.”

I apologize if this was too short, or it wasn’t amazing :’(

I attempted to do it within the reach of my abilities, but I hope you still enjoyed it! I’ll never stop repeating this, but you are loved, nothing on earth will change that. There’s always someone who loves you, even when you don't realize it. You are infinite <3

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

the skeletons try to sneak up and scare S/O, but S/O slaps them in the face out of instinct. how do the skeletons react?

Undertale Sans - He falls on his back like a dying sea star and refuses to move again. Deal with the consequences now. He will stay in the middle of the hallway all day long just out of spite and will be a problem for everyone who wants to pass. Patience is his thing, you will get mad before him.

Undertale Papyrus - He gives you the sad puppy eyes. But as you run to him to make sure he's alright, his expression suddenly shifts from traumatized to mischievous and he lunges at you to attack you with tickles. You are shocked. Papyrus is actually really good at manipulating people, that's a game you can't win. His acting skills are perfect.

Underswap Sans - You think your weak ass slap is going to stop him? Blue laughs at your pathetic attempt to stop him throws himself on the floor, and bites your ankles. You can't get rid of him! Never! He is way too excited right now and if he doesn't evacuate the energy he's going to be a pain in the butt all day out of frustration, so you resign to your fate and let him do his thing you guess. That hurts by the way.

Underswap Papyrus - He tries to dodge your hand by headbutting the wall at full speed, giggling. Well the giggle dies shortly after that because your idiot boyfriend just knocked himself out. You think he's shitting you at first, but, uh, nah, he's limp on the floor for real lol. When you look up, his three service dogs are judging you so hard you start to feel guilty.

Underfell Sans - He slaps your butt in response, also instinctively. Uh... Well, that's a bit awkward now, as none of you dares to look in the other eyes. He needs to deflect the tension, quick. His brain goes zoomies mode and he suddenly runs away on all four out of nowhere. You're just confused now. What's even going on?

Underfell Papyrus - He smirks, dodging your attack without any difficulty. He turns you around, still holding your arm and pins you against the wall with your arm stuck behind your back. He's taunting you as you're struggling and screaming trying to get at him. Apologize to him and if you're convincing enough, he'll let you go. Edge can be such a bully sometimes. You can't do anything to escape him though so it's time to accept your ego will be hurt in the process.

Horrortale Sans - He whimpers pitifully and gives you big sad eyes. He doesn't even know anymore why you're hitting him :( It hurts so bad :( You feel like a horrible person and immediately run to him to apologize for a cuddling session. Of course, Oak won't tell you he perfectly remembers what happened and that he's messing with you on purpose to win a free cuddle session. Willow is staring through his soul from the kitchen. Willow knows so bad, and he's not sure if he should call him out or not. Oak gulps.

Horrortale Papyrus - He stops your hand mid-air with surprising strength, then immediately lets go, looking guilty. You surprised him, and he didn't like how fast his old instincts kicked in to stop you. He doesn't say anything at that moment, but you notice he's a bit distant and agitated all day. He needs some time to calm down.

Swapfell Sans - He gives you an unimpressed judgmental long stare, in complete silence. Is that the best you can do? Damn, that was pathetic. How are you not ashamed of how weak that was? He's shivering from cringe for you. That's ok though, thankfully, in his great mercy, he will act like it never happened to avoid further embarrassment for you. You're so offended you're shaking.

Swapfell Papyrus - You dare to hit him? Him? The incarnation of purity and innocence? How dare. He's a sweet perfect angel and he never did something wrong ever in his life, and now look at him, dead on the floor with all of his bones broken and his soul shattered into a million pieces. You did that to him, you monster. You roll your eyes as he's rolling in agony on the floor, whining like a big baby. Nox screams at you to kick him in the pelvis to end his suffering and make him shut up for good. You're kinda envisaging it.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Coffee gasps so loud behind you as you slap Wine. I mean, he's not wrong. Do... Do you want to die? What are you doing? Wine is clearly offended, but he'll accept it was just a mistake in the end and that you didn't really want to kill him. BUT. Do that again, and he might start thinking you're trying to murder him, which he doesn't like. You're going to have a lot of suspicious side eyes all day lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He looks at you, so hurt. He just wanted to hug you as you came back from home. But, uh, that's not the only problem. Wine is definitely getting up from the couch as you're standing still in shock. You're in big big trouble. You grab Coffee's arm, opens the door and runs, dragging him with you. Coffee is so confused right now. Are you hating him or do you want his help? You're giving him mixed signals, he's not sure what's happening anymore.

[drvirgus]

Glow

Danielle X Reader

Description: Despite your initial distrust of Dani's relentless optimism, you discover that having someone as bright as Dani in your life is exactly what you need.

Warnings: insults; trauma; harsh words; foul language; kys/kms jokes; naughty jokes; drinking; smoking;

Chapter 27: Alone

Masterlist

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Yn didn't know what was wrong.

She just felt alone.

After spending time with Jihye and her family, she had felt so comfortable. They had listened to her—truly listened. No one had interrupted her, no one had ignored her.

At first, she had been unsure about their whole family dynamic. It was so unfamiliar to her. But after a while, she realized it wasn't fake or forced—it was just how they were.

And after that night, her own home felt even emptier. Even when her family was right there...

Maybe that was why she had never understood familial bonds the way others did. She didn't understand why someone would go out of their way, take the fall, or make sacrifices just because it was their brother or sister.

She just didn't get it.

She felt closer to her friends than she ever did to her family.

"So what exactly did Roberto do?" her brother asked, barely suppressing his laughter.

Yn looked at him, confused. "Who's Roberto?"

No one answered.

She frowned, waiting for the joke to end. But even when the laughter had died down, no one acknowledged her question.

"Who's Roberto?" she repeated, her voice sharper this time. But again, she was ignored.

With an irritated sigh, she simply nodded to herself and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table. She lit one without thinking twice.

It was unbelievable what people could get used to.

Cigarette smoke was harmful. Everyone knew that. It burned the lungs, scratched the throat, left you short of breath. Especially in the beginning. But even pain was something humans could adapt to.

Just like the feeling of being ignored.

"And Yn? What grade are you in again?" her mother asked casually.

Yn's mouth fell open slightly, stunned by the question.

She was actually asking that?

"Mom, she's in eighth grade." her brother groaned before she could answer, like he was bored of the conversation already.

"I'm not in eighth grade," Yn corrected, exhaling smoke as she took another drag. She opened her mouth to say what grade she was actually in, but before she could, her mother had already turned to start a conversation with her other daughter.

Yn let out a short, bitter breath through her nose.

So different from Jihye's family.

"I'm student council president," Yn said, louder this time, forcing their attention back to her.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, they just looked at her with vague confusion.

"Oh wow," her mother finally said. "That must be stressful, right?"

A small smile crept onto Yn's lips, ready to talk about her role.

"Stressful?" her sister scoffed before she could even respond. She let out a dry, mocking laugh as she put out her cigarette in the ashtray. "She doesn't even know real stress. What I go through? That's what real stress looks like." She gestured dramatically at herself. “Yn could never handle my life.”

Yn's jaw tightened.

You have no idea.

You don't know anything about me.

Just stop talking.

I hate this.

I hate you.

Selfish, narcissistic bitch.

Her mind was full of thoughts—too full. But not a single word left her lips.

Because it wouldn't change anything.

In the end, she would be the bad guy. It would be her fault when her sister started slamming doors or smashing glass.

It was never the actual culprit's fault.

Makes sense, right?

Yn was good at one thing: running away.

Just like now. She put out her cigarette, stood up from the kitchen table, and stretched with an exaggerated yawn.

"I'm going to bed," she muttered.

Most of them just nodded and continued their conversations.

"Oh, Yn—what about dinner?" her mother called just as she reached the door.

"Not hungry, thanks."

“Ugh, of course you’re not,” her brother scoffed. “Always so dramatic.”

“Jesus, just eat and stop acting so special,” her sister muttered, rolling her eyes.

Yn didn’t even react. She just walked away.

And just like that, she was gone.

Alone.

Even when she was surrounded by her family.

Well… maybe except for her mother.

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Taglist: @sixflame438 @saysirhc @illithharmony @somedaydream @yuyuy90 @wonyoungssi @peranoo @gornoi @multiliker @wtfisthisnoclueman @prologue-ae @he------len @tormaa1

[imawholeassmood]

last part :)

Vi keeps her eyes squeezed shut as she pulls her lips away from Caitlyn’s temple, waiting for…who knows what. When she doesn’t hear anything, she opens one eye then the other.

Caitlyn looks the same - still beautiful, still sleeping.

Vi looks left, then right, turning her head, listening for signs that something is different. But there’s nothing. No beeping machines. No running doctors. No movement from Caitlyn.

Of course it wouldn’t work. She hangs her head in defeat.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

Vi’s shoulders hunch up at the sound of Cassandra’s voice behind her. Had she seen what Vi had done? Not only did she kiss a freaking Counselor’s daughter without permission, but it didn’t even work. So much for Cassandra wanting to earn Vi’s trust.

“I would do anything for her to wake up.” Cassandra walks around the room, takes her place on the opposite side of Caitlyn’s bed from where Vi is standing, and looks at her daughter. “We have that in common.”

Vi doesn’t look at her, she can’t bring herself to face Cassandra Kiramman right now. Not with what she has to admit. The confession slips out of her, soft, scared, slightly shaky. “She’s here because of me.”

There’s a pause long enough for Vi to think Cassandra might be figuring out how to call Sheriff Grayson back here to pick her up after all.

“Violet,” Cassandra says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “You didn’t do this to her. The people who did are in police custody. If anything, you’ve helped keep her alive. Thank you.”

Vi’s head almost whips up with the declaration of gratitude. Her daughter is unconscious in a hospital looking like she took a turn in a cement mixer and Cassandra Kiramman is thanking Vi. As she takes in the gentle look on Cassandra’s face, Vi can’t stop the tears from falling. She just feels so guilty. Her lifestyle, being from the under city. Caitlyn didn’t deserve someone like her. Someone who would almost certainly always be putting Caitlyn’s life in danger.

“I know what it’s like to blame yourself,” Cassandra says, squeezing Caitlyn’s hand. “Thinking if you’d done things differently this wouldn’t have happened.” Her voice comes out in a whisper on her next sentence. “Wishing you could take back the last thing you said.”

Vi doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. She just waits.

“She was upset with me.”

***

Vi lays back in her own bed, thinking about what Cassandra had shared with her. About how she and Caitlyn had a fight earlier that day. How Caitlyn was mad at her for trying to “control her life” while Cassandra insisted she just wanted what was best for Caitlyn. Vi thinks about the headache she had that day and the tension she felt in her shoulders, wonders if that was Caitlyn.

What had Tobias said? The bond forms when the soulmates need it most. Did Caitlyn need her?

Dr. Kiramman walks into the room, interrupting Vi’s thoughts, a tray of coffees in his hand. He passes a cup to Vander before joining his wife on the other side of the room. Vi wants to ask him if the soulmate bond ever gets it wrong.

As she contemplates pressing for more information about soulmates, something Vander never spoke of before, the cup in Dr. Kiramman’s hand collapses when the lid pops off, spilling coffee over his hands and onto the floor. Vi watches as he shakes off his hands, wincing with the pain of the scalding hot liquid. Vi watches as Cassandra makes no indication of her own pain.

***

A flurry of commotion wakes Vi from her nap. She’s breathing better, like she’s getting more oxygen than she’d been able to pull into her lungs in days.

People swarm around her, a cluster of white coats and called out orders. Caitlyn’s bed is surrounded by doctors as well as Tobias and Cassandra. Vi can’t see what’s happening, but it doesn’t seem like anyone is panicking and Vi feels better than she has since she first woke up.

“It’s ok, kiddo,” Vander says next to her, his hand covering her forearm. “She’s awake.”

***

Caitlyn isn’t sure what’s happening. Her parents’ voices coo in her ears, giving words of comfort and affection. That can’t be good. Even as her eyes adjust to the bright lights and faces come into focus, she can’t make sense of where she is or how she got there.

Eventually, the voices and faces fade to two she knows.

“Hello, pumpkin,” her father says in his usual calm voice. “It’s good to see you.”

Caitlyn wants to respond, but finds her voice won’t come, her mouth a desert.

“It’s ok, love,” her dad says, sensing her confusion and worry, always able to soothe her. “You’re in the hospital. There was an accident but everyone’s ok. I’ll get you some juice.” He pats her arm, gives her a smile, and steps away from her bed.

Caitlyn follows him across the room and out the door, her eyes continuing to the bed next to her where a pair of light gray eyes watch her in wonder.

***

Vi doesn’t think she’s taken a breath since Caitlyn first looked at her. Bright blue eyes widened in shock when they first fell on Vi. She might have felt bad if Caitlyn’s cheeks hadn’t flushed pink, followed by her quickly averting her eyes. Vi is sure her own face matches her pink hair with the warmth that’s washed over her.

Despite herself, Vi can’t look away. She’s barely containing herself from reaching out or saying something. It doesn’t help that Caitlyn keeps glancing her way and pretending she isn’t.

For a moment, Vi forgets her worries about being Caitlyn’s soulmate. For a moment, it feels like nothing has ever been more right in her life. For a moment, Vi feels at peace.

That moment ends when Powder runs into the room, followed by Mylo and Claggor.

“Does this mean you can go home now the Piltie’s awake?” Mylo says, sounding annoyed.

Vi’s ribs are still too sore to smack him with any force, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. She whips her pillow at him and he deflects it with a “what?!”

Vi winces and holds her ribs. Vander interjects and sends Mylo to the cafeteria, Claggor following him out.

This is not the first impression Vi wanted to make.

“You’re so pretty!” Powder exclaims, standing next to Caitlyn’s bed, expressing Vi’s thoughts with such casualness she’s almost jealous.

Caitlyn blushes again at the compliment and Cassandra chuckles, actually chuckles.

“Caitlyn,” Cassandra says, “this is Powder. She’s going to be Jayce’s new protégé.”

“Jayce is going to help make my monkey bombs explode!”

Cassandra sighs and places a hand on Powder’s shoulder. “We’ll see.”

Vi watches the exchange, only partially listening as Powder rambles on about how excited she is, and Cassandra explains the idea is to create safety and peace through science, not weapons and conflict much to Powder’s dismay.

All the while Caitlyn listens about as much as Vi, her attention drifting to Vi’s bed more often than not.

“The doctor thinks only another day or two,” Vander says, reminding Vi of his presence. “We’ll all be happy to have you home.”

Home. In the under city. On the other side of the bridge from where Caitlyn will be.

Reality crashes back to Vi, knocking the wind out of her. She hears Caitlyn take a sharp breath next to her, but Vi can’t force herself to look. The ache in her chest grows as she thinks about how cruel the world can be, dangling something so beautiful before her that can never be hers.

***

This is the moment Caitlyn’s been waiting for. A few brief minutes of solitude where the only ones in the room are her and the pink-haired girl in the bed next to her with the same injuries. Her soulmate.

The person selected for her by the universe to be her partner in life. Caitlyn knows the soulmate bond isn’t a given. She knows it doesn’t mean your soulmate will be your one true love. She even knows it’s possible for soulmates to choose not to be in each other’s lives.

If the soulmates so choose, their bond is never sealed and their connection dims to a low ache, a gentle reminder of each other’s presence in the world.

But after one look at her soulmate, at Violet, as her mother called her, Caitlyn knew exactly what she wanted.

Though her throat is still raw from lack of use, she can resist no longer in communicating with Violet. She uses the pen and notepad her mother provided and scribbles “Hi! :)” on the page, holding it up for Violet to see.

And she knows Violet will see it because she hasn’t stopped looking at Caitlyn since Caitlyn opened her eyes.

At the girl’s amused expression, she wonders if the exclamation point was too much.

“Hi.”

Nope, not too much. Nothing will be too much for this girl. Caitlyn will give her everything she has.

“Violet?” she holds up this time.

Violet’s face scrunches.

“It’s just Vi.” Then. “Took you long enough.”

***

Vi cannot believe she said that. This beautiful, blushing girl who she’s been dying to meet greets her with enthusiasm and Vi…is Vi. “Sorry,” she mumbles, hoping she hasn’t ruined this. But Caitlyn only smiles at her.

***

Vander watches through the window as Vi and Caitlyn greet each other. Their bashful smiles and tentative words enough to make him hopeful for Vi’s future.

“They have a long road ahead of them.”

The rich, accented voice of Sheriff Grayson comes from next to him.

“Do you think it’ll be different this time?” Vander says, not looking away from the girls.

“I think Cassandra will do anything for her daughter’s happiness,” Grayson says. “A kindness she would not extend to herself.”

Vander looks at Grayson, finds her weary and forlorn. He knows the feeling.

***

Vi is grateful Vander pushed the beds closer. It offers her the chance to reach over and grab Caitlyn’s hand whenever they have a moment to themselves, which come less frequently now the situation isn’t as dire.

Caitlyn, for her part, seems just as eager as Vi for the connection, testing her own injuries when she turned on her side to face Vi. They spend the hours sneaking glances and too short touches as people come and go to check on them.

Vi gets her chance when Cassandra announces she’ll be off to pack a bag for Caitlyn and Vander offers to walk her out. It’s likely to be their final time together before they leave the hospital and have to figure out what comes next.

For now, Vi slips out of her bed, walks over to Caitlyn’s. Caitlyn holds up the sheet for her. They settle into each other, Caitlyn resting her head on Vi’s chest as Vi wraps her arm around Caitlyn’s shoulder. Vi closes her eyes, succumbing to the calmness she feels wash over her.

***

Vander can’t help himself. He takes out his camera and raises it to snap a picture of Vi and Caitlyn asleep on Caitlyn’s bed. As he adjusts the angle, Vi, eyes closed, raises her arm and flips him the bird. Vander laughs and takes the picture.

You're in my heart, you're in my soul

@somewillwin thank you for your adorable caitvi soulmates au.

part 1, I guess :) also on A03

As the pain radiates through her wrist up to her shoulder, the only thought in Vi’s head is she’s glad Powder’s not with her. Deckard’s cheap shot, hitting her with a bat to the head as she rounded the corner was low, even for him. Vi fought back as best she could, dazed from the headwound, but her disorientation had her missing more punches than she landed. She didn’t often stroll through the under city alone and tonight she was getting a tough reminder as to why that was.

But the headache she felt earlier and the overwhelming tension that pulled at her shoulders required her to get out and move her body. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before and, to her knowledge, completely unaccounted for. Vi didn’t get headaches and she certainly never felt her body tense the way it had earlier that day.

Another wrenching blow to the gut forces a breathy cough from Vi’s lungs as she hunches and heaves to fill her lungs. Deckard’s men are relentless with their attacks, kicking her while she’s down. This is it, she thinks as images of Powder, Mylo, and Claggor flash before her, I’m going to die.

***

“Caitlyn!” Cassandra’s voice comes out loud and strained as she rushes across the room to her unmoving daughter on the floor. “Tobias!” she shouts, dropping to the ground and grabbing Caitlyn into her arms. Caitlyn doesn’t respond to her mother’s panicked cries.

“Cassandra, what is i-“ Tobias’s calm demeanor disappears when he sees his wife and daughter. He rushes over to them on the floor and starts looking Caitlyn over. Blood gushes from an open wound on her head, bruises mar other parts of her face, and her wrist is twisted unnaturally. “I’ll call the hospital and let them know we’re on our way. Hold this here.” Tobias presses a handkerchief to Caitlyn’s head and waits for Cassandra to take over before rushing out of the room.

***

Claggor kicks the door to The Last Drop open and Mylo calls out for Vander. They’re holding Vi’s limp body between them.

“The sofa,” Vander says, pointing to the worn down and stained piece of furniture. Mylo and Claggor carry Vi across the room and ease her onto the torn fabric. “Keep Powder out of here,” Vander says, looking over Vi’s swollen and bruised face, her features unrecognizable. His fingers tremble only slightly as he slowly moves them to Vi’s throat, pressing two fingers against the skin under her jaw. He nearly bursts into tears when he finds a faint pulse.

Powder’s cries behind him sting in his chest as he hears his sons try their best to keep her away. She shouldn’t see her sister like this. None of them should. “I’m gonna get you help, kid,” he says, standing.

“I want to see Vi!” Powder says in a cry-yell when Vander slips into the back room with her and her brothers. Vander takes a deep breath to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m taking your sister to the hospital,” he says, “I need you all to stay here and look after each other. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“I want to see her,” Powder says, face stained with tears.

“Powder,” Vander says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you know these two can’t take care of themselves. Even though she’d never admit it, Vi would hate to see anything happen to them.” Powder sniffs and wipes her hand under her nose. “I know you want to see your sister,” Vander continues, “but right now I need you to take care of her brothers so I can take care of her. Ok?”

Powder gives a reluctant head nod. “That’s my girl. And you two,” Vander says, looking at Claggor and Mylo. He doesn’t have the words to thank them. They seem to understand his meaning as they each give him a nod of recognition. Before he slips out the door, he turns back to his kids. “I’ll be back as soon as I can to come get you all.”

***

“I don’t care what it costs, you save my daughter.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Kiramman,” the hospital administrator says in a neutral tone, “Caitlyn is receiving the best care. We’ve called in our specialists to tend to her.”

Tobias squeezes his arm around his wife’s waist. “Caitlyn’s doctors are the best in the hospital,” he reassures Cassandra.

Cool air from the night breezes around them as the hospital’s main doors open and a booming voice calls out. “My daughter needs help.”

Tobias and Cassandra turn to see the hulking figure and the unconscious girl in his arms. She looks so small against his large frame. Tobias sees them first, the wounds on the girl’s face and body. He moves over the man.

“What happened to her?” he asks, looking over Vi’s form.

“She was mugged. Are you a doctor?”

“I am, but I’m not on duty.”

“Then you’re no help to us.” Vander pushes past Tobias, stepping up to the administrator. “Please, she needs a doctor.”

The man eyes Vander and Vi, scanning them from head to toe, looking put-out by their presence. Vander, covered in sweat from the journey, and Vi in her torn clothes covered in blood and dirt certainly stand out next to buttoned up waistcoats and matching silk nightgowns of the Kirammans. Vander knew it would be a risk bringing Vi all the way to Piltover, but the hospitals are far superior to the ones in the under city. “I think you may be in the wrong hospital.”

“I’ll see her,” Tobias says.

“Dr. Kiramman, I don’t-“

“I insist.”

“Tobias, what are you?” Cassandra says, stepping up to her husband. He nods his head in Vi’s direction, just enough to get his wife to look. She scans the girl whose limbs dangle loosely in the large man’s arms, stopping at the familiar headwound. She turns back to her husband and says in a hushed voice, “I’ll make sure Caitlyn receives the best care. You take care of her.”

Tobias presses a kiss to Cassandra’s forehead before turning back to Vander.

“Follow me, Mister?”

“Vander.”

“Vander. I’m Tobias,” he says, pressing a palm to his chest. “Let’s get your daughter patched up.”

***

Vander sits in the lumpy hospital chair next to Vi’s bed as Tobias makes some checks of the machines. “Not that I’m not grateful for what you’ve done,” Vander says, “it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough for her wounds.”

Tobias turns to him with a soft smile on his lips. “I assure you, Vander,” he says, “your daughter’s received the best care in this hospital. She’s going to be ok.”

At that, Vander rises from his seat. “A few bandages and a breathing machine,” he says pointing to Vi and the tubes running from her mouth, “are hardly the best care. When did these specialists see her?”

Tobias, aiming to assuage the man twice his size, holds up his hands in surrender. “I apologize, allow me to explain. Shortly before you arrived, my wife, Cassandra, and I brought in our daughter, Caitlyn, after finding her unconscious on her bedroom floor. She looked like she’d been hit by a bus. We, understandably, had no idea what happened and brought her here where we have quite a bit of influence.” He keeps talking as Vander looks at him with a mix of confusion and impatience on his face. “Then you arrived with Vi here who shares remarkably similar injuries to Caitlyn’s. Now, I don’t know what you believe, but, um.”

“You think my Vi and your Caitlyn are?”

“I do,” Tobias said in earnest. “And if that’s the case, then Vi has been treated by the best doctors in this hospital, my wife has made sure of it.”

Vander scratches at his jaw, a playful smile toying at his lips. “Oh, Vi is gonna get a kick out of this.”

***

“Excuse me, Mister,” Cassandra pauses, unsure of herself with such casualty, “Vander?”

Vander rises from the chair to greet the woman still dressed in her silk nightgown who looks like she’s slept as much as Vander has over the past eighteen hours. He’s glad to know he’s not the only one this is taking a toll on, though he’s surprised to find the woman hasn’t managed to get ahold of a change of clothes, given her dress. Seeming to read Vanders mind, she tugs at the belt around her waistcoat to tighten the knot.

“I’m Cassandra, my husband has been treating your daughter.”

“Yes, come in. I, thank you. Both of you for what you’ve done for Vi.”

Cassandra stands in the doorway, looking uncertain about whether or not she should enter the room, despite Vander’s offer. She glances at Vi before ducking her head and bringing her attention back to Vander.

“I wanted to apologize for the way you and your daughter were treated when you first arrived. I’ve never been a fan of the administration here, but now I have something I can work with, and I assure you, I will be doing something about it.”

Vander isn’t sure what to make of that statement or what to say in response. “Ok,” is all he manages to get out in the awkward silence.

“I believe Tobias has made you aware of our suspicions about our girls?” Cassandra says, breaking the silence. Vander is relieved at the change of topic.

“Yes.”

“Yes. Well, I was thinking they might heal faster if they were nearer to each other,” Cassandra says. “I’d like to have Vi moved, if you’re ok with it.”

Vander looks at Vi who continues to lay in bed without any signs of regaining consciousness. The bruising and swelling of her face are in full effect and he’s not even sure she could open her eyes if she wanted. The air tube covering her nose and mouth, the saline drip attached to the back of her hand, and a slew of other wires running from her fragile body to various machines chokes Vander with the emotions he’s been holding back since Mylo and Claggor first dragged her into their home. At this point, he’d do anything for her to wake up.

“I don’t know much about how any of this works,” he says, turning back to Cassandra, “so I’ll follow your lead if you think it’ll help.”

***

Vi comes to with a pounding in her head and the inability to fully open her eyes. That’s probably a good thing if the brightness behind her swollen eyelids is any indicator to how brights the lights of the space she’s in are. Regardless, she tries to open her eyes anyway.

“Hey, kiddo,” she hears Vander’s rough voice say and feels his calloused hands cover one of her own. She doesn’t have enough strength or energy to adjust to his touch and when she tries to speak, she discovers her very dry mouth is covered by something that stops her. “I’ll get the doc,” Vander speaks again, his voice hiding a slight tremor. “See what we can do about that breather.”

Vi’s not sure how much time passes before she’s jostled awake again, this time her mouth free of the plastic contraption. Her eyes don’t seem to be working any better, but she makes out a blurry figure standing next to where she lays.

“Hi, Vi. I’m Dr. Kiramman.” The man’s voice is soft and surprisingly comforting. “It’s really great to see you awake.”

If Vi didn’t know any better, she’d say his voice shared the slight tremor she heard in Vander’s earlier.

“I’ve got some water here, if you’d like,” he continues. She nods, or at least, thinks she does. When the soft touch of a straw taps against her lips, she parts them and tries her best to get some of the liquid her parched mouth craves. It’s not as easy a task as it used to be and water dribbles down her chin.

“I’ll let Cassandra know.” Vander speaks again. She didn’t even know he was still in the room.

“Actually, Vander,” the man, Dr. Kiramman, says more casually than Vi would expect, “I think we should wait on that. Give Caitlyn a little more time.”

***

Vi wake again, she assumes some time later if her eyesight is anything to go by. She looks around with more ease than the first time she’d tried and her vision isn’t as blurry.

“Hello, again, Vi,” a soothing voice says. She turns to the man in the white coat, stepping up to her bedside. “It’s Dr. Kiramman. How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell off a bridge.”

The man chuckles. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Vander?”

“Vander’s gone to check on your siblings. I told him I’d stay here with you until he got back.”

A million thoughts race through Vi’s head and she doesn’t know which question she wants to ask first. How long has she been here? How long has Vander been away from Powder? Why would the doctor offer to stay with her?

Her breaths quicken with the growing panic rising in her chest. It’s all a little too much for her right now.

“It’s ok, Vi,” Dr. Kiramman says, his voice calm. “You’re safe.”

Her eyes dart around the room, landing on a figure laying in a bed next to her, wires and machines matching her own.

Vi’s panic subsides, draining out of her as she looks at the girl. Dark hair is all she can make out around the bruising and breathing machine on her face, but she looks to be about Vi’s age.

“This is my daughter,” the man Vi’d forgotten was in the room with her says. “Caitlyn.” Vi turns back to him to see his eyes have glossed over as he tries to hold back tears. He clears his throat. “I do wish you’d have met under different circumstances.”

“What happened to her?” Vi rasps out, her throat suddenly dry as she turns back to look at Caitlyn’s unconscious form.

Dr. Kiramman is quiet for a long while. Vi hardly notices the silence as she takes in as much of Caitlyn’s features as she can. Vi is sure she’s the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen.

“What do you know about soulmates?” Dr. Kiramman finally says.

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

Scar was going to explode, maybe literally if saer emotions were going to be this intense. Thir heart pounded in thir chest, threatening to burst out from thir ribcage if it didn’t calm down soon. 

Valentine’s Day was coming up, and Scar’s feelings for Mumbo were as strong as ever. 

Oh, how he wished it weren’t so! He’d already been combating his emotions for Grian, and now he was doing the same for their shared best friend? Oh, how life is a cruel, cruel mistress! 

Jellie stared at Scar, slowly blinking to show her disinterest at his lamenting. The nymph stared at her, big wet puppy eyes on full display, but to no effect. She turned away, jumping down from the counter and wandering off to somewhere else in the Swaggon. 

Thae sighed, standing back up straight from where thae’d crouched in front of Jellie. Vae were gonna have to face this on vaer own, weren’t vae? Sure, she could always turn to Grian for help, but Scar was certain that would lead to less progress on confessing to Mumbo and more teasing from G than anything else. 

Scar's eyes strayed back to the tin off to his right. Below the tissue paper were an assortment of cookie goodness, on top of which read a simple request: 

Be my valentine?

The nymph buried his face in his hands with embarrassment. Cheesy, ny knew, but what were nym if not a man of cliche? Besides, vae weren’t sure if vae’d be able to ask Mumbo the question vaerself once the conversation came down to it. And so, writing on the cookies became the next best option.

Scar braced himself, taking a deep breath, he could do this. He could do this! It was now or never- and he had chosen now. Xe gently tucked the cookie tin into xyr inventory, walking out of the Swaggon and pulling out a rocket for the trip to Mumbo's waterfall. Here goes nothing.

--------

"Mumboooooooooo!" The person in question jumped at the sudden noise that interrupted the quiet of building. Was that Scar? Where was h-

Mumbo's question was succinctly answered when he was tackled from behind, yelping as he landed in the moss.

"Mumbo! So glad to see you!" He opened his eyes, rolling over to find Scar hovering over him, grinning wildly. "Sorry about the crash landing, wind's a bit unwieldy today. Can I help you up?"

Mumbo couldn't find it in himself to be mad, giggling as Scar pulled him up from the ground. "Hey, mate, thanks for the warm welcome."

Scar's lopsided smirk never waivered. "Of course, of course, anything for you, Mumbo."

The two stared at each other for a bit, the silence growing ever more awkward as it dragged on. Scar's smirk started to fall, and a panic set into his eyes before he cleared his throat. All of a sudden, the confident, easy-going front was back up and ready to roll. "Actually- I came here to give you something."

Mumbo perked up at that. "Oh- you did?" He hadn't been expecting gifts, but he was never one to turn down a present.

"Yes, yes, I have it right here!" Scar fiddled around in his inventory for a moment before producing a red metal tin. "For you! For- for Valentine's Day."

A dread set into Mumbo's stomach. Oh. Oh no- This wasn't what he thought it was, was it?

He fumbled through a thank you, accepting the container to hold nervously in his hands. He hoped, prayed even, that this was just a friendly gesture, a gift from a pal! Buddies, mates, chums, other words for friends! A feeling in the back of his mind said otherwise, though.

His suspicions were confirmed as he removed the lid, revealing the very romantic-meaning question. Mumbo's heart sank. He was going to have to let Scar down, wasn't he?

"Oh- um..." The words jumbled in Mumbo's brain, leaving him opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Oh gosh, how do I say this?"

It was then that he made the mistake of looking at Scar again. The man already appeared defeated, xer pointed ears drooping downward, and xer eyes fighting to push back the hurt of rejection. "No, no, I get it, I do!" Scar chuckled, though it sounded wrong with its usual mirth missing.

"No, no, mate, I mean- I mean that I just... don't feel that way about people," Mumbo admitted, which was strange to say out loud. Sure he knew that for a fact, but he'd never allowed himself to truly think it. "It's not you, mate, I promise."

"No, no- it's never me ,” Scar rambled, and Mumbo could smell the start of a spiral from a mile away. “It’s just the fact that I'm..too loud a-and chaotic and-” Xe stopped abruptly, pressing his palms into xyr eyes. “You know what, I shouldn't be doing this to ya, Mumbo, you didn't ask to see my pity party-” He let out another soulless laugh, twisting Mumbo’s gut with guilt. “Uh, enjoy the cookies!" And with that, Scar turned on nys heel, already pulling out a rocket to speed away.

Thankfully, Mumbo was able to catch him by the elbow before he could fly off. "No!” He shouted, startling both Scar and himself. He made sure to lower his volume before continuing. “Scar, wait, it's genuinely not you- People- er, romance- it's… It's not exactly my cup of tea, so to speak,” Mumbo trailed off. 

"...Really?" Scar’s voice came out quiet, a relieved sort of curiosity peaking through.

Mumbo shrugged. "Never has, t'be quite honest with you. I'm sorry, for leading you on, i-if I have- that wasn’t my intention.”

"Don't be!" Scar defended fiercely, grabbing both of Mumbo’s hands in aeir own, and Mumbo definitely didn’t feel a flush spreading across his cheeks. "You don't have to apologise for your feelings or for who you are, that’s not in your control."

“You sure, mate?” This was going a bit too well, wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of big conflict they’d have to work on? 

“Of course,” Scar seemed adamant in that fact, and Mumbo was inclined to believe him. 

“What now?” He squeaked out, still very aware of their hands being intertwined. 

Scar hummed to xyemself for a moment. “I think… I think I'm going to need a bit to think on it,” xe admitted. “But, when I’m done, I’ll let you know where I want to go from here. Does- does that sound good?”

Mumbo could stop the chuckle from rising in his chest. “Sounds great.”

[wyvernquill]

POV you embark on an odyssey of recollection

[the-barefoot-hatter]

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[vinelark]

tim rejecting kon as robin because he believes kon already rejected tim and so would be disappointed once he finds out....this is the worst ending yet...i love it....

(this scenario) listen, tim is so smart and strategic and logical and also (especially post-breakup/misunderstanding) would plan for every single outcome except the one where he is actually wanted