#he would hold on to some of these things and just think about them

[vxnillabxn]

¡HOLA! May I request headcanons for the main 5 having to leave after their baby with fem reader is born, and they come back after some months... Only to find out their baby looks exactly like them and not like their mother? Please, I want to picture cute little LAD babies 😭😭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x fem!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, hurt/comfort! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚¡holi! this was supposed to be super fluffy, but i just couldn't picture them being away from their family for so long and not being heartbroken ( ˶•ᴖ•) !! i absolutely LOVE babies, and i love picturing the main five being fathers, omg. thanks for requesting! ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

caleb was furious.

and he was also sulking.

how could they choose to send him away for five months, with no communication with the outside world whatsoever for “confidentiality agreements”?

he was a father.

of two!

he stared down at his twin babies; his precious boy and his gorgeous girl.

then, he looked at you.

he was about to cry.

“lebbie, don't…”

but he's already holding you close, inhaling your scent —as if he didn't have it memorized by now— and apologizing for something he didn't have control over.

then, he cautiously picks up his almost newborns in each arm, placing a soft kiss on their tiny foreheads.

“dada will be back, yeah? don't forget me.”

oh gosh, he was seriously sulking.

“time will fly by, lebbie. i promise to always put on your clothes so they can have your scent close.”

ah, that was the last straw.

he cries.

ugly cries.

but your words are true; as always.

five months go by, and, to be honest, you feel exhausted.

taking care of two babies by yourself was challenging.

sure, you had some close friends helping you out here and there, but you missed your husband; the one who would literally stay awake the first nights the twins slept just to check their breathing.

and, on top of that, how could you not think of him?

when your both now crawling and chubby babies were identical to their father.

it was crazy.

they had his hair color, his eyes, even down to his tiny freckles.

and, on top of all, they had to be near you.

all the time.

one afternoon, after feeding your baby girl whilst your baby boy cooed and discovered he had toes —once again—, the door unlocked.

the three of you looked towards the door almost immediately.

and all the maternal stress left your body, as if gravity itself was pulling it away from you.

you carefully put your baby girl down, before shakily calling out for him.

“leb…”

his things fall with a thud, and he rushes to you, enveloping you in his arms and nuzzling his cheek against your head.

you hugged him tightly, tiredly, happily…

relieved, at last.

the twins were cooing curiously, resting on their chubby bellies and struggling just a bit to keep their heads up.

but their violet eyes were focused on the giant man in front of them.

caleb almost faints.

his two tiny apple slices, his precious babies, so aware, so healthy.

of course you'd do amazing, but he'll make sure to make it up to you for each day he wasn't there to be a father.

he approaches and kneels down, eyes locking with the twins.

the baby boy is looking, but the baby girl is reaching out her tiny hand to play with his face.

ah, the tears start falling again.

you sigh softly and smile, leaning against the wall as you clutch the —his— t-shirt you were wearing.

he kisses the baby's hand gently, before his baby boy babbles, taking a chunk of his hair in his tiny fist.

he sees the determination and curiosity in those pairs of lavender eyes, smiling proudly soon after.

but, wait…

lavender eyes?

dark, fluffy hair...

tiny freckles all over their pale skin.

he looks at you, then at his babies.

…how dare they?

he gently steps back, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

“pipsqueak?”

he softly calls out.

“yes. yes, i know.”

“but, pips—”

“yes, my genes didn't even try.”

he looks down at the babies now, studying them again.

they were basically two mini versions of him.

they are perfect, of course. absolutely perfect; the two other loves of his life.

but…

“pips.”

he softly wraps his arms around your waist.

“no.”

he chuckles, pulling you close.

“you didn't even let me speak, baby.”

but you know what he wants.

you know that face.

the same face that led to these gorgeous babies.

“leb, we won't have a third one.”

“oh, but please! a mini you would be the cutest addition to our family!”

he cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead.

“i… listen, not right now, okay? but maybe in a couple of years…? think about it; a mini you having his two big siblings to rely on, to play with, to talk to—”

you sigh, knowing he's already picturing everything in his mind.

“okay, okay, yeah. i'll think about it.”

you kiss his cheek softly.

“but right now… you need to bond with your kids, mister. and i need some time for myself.”

he quickly nods and salutes.

“yes, ma'am.”

and he's more than happy to do so, not even having to ask what to do, as he quietly goes around and finds out where their bottles and diapers are.

he doesn't bother you at all, respecting your need to rest.

and he's overjoyed when his babies seem to be comfortable around him, even more so when he speaks to them in the same silly voice he used when they were in your belly.

however, he's serious.

after making it up to you for every day, every minute, and every second he couldn't be here for you and the precious babies, he'll make sure you feel rested, cared for and loved again.

and once the twins aren't such a challenge anymore, he'll aim for a mini you.

or two, if you're both lucky again.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

rafayel wasn't having it.

thomas dragged him out of his house, carrying the bags in one hand, as the other clutched his arm.

“you can't! this isn't legal!”

he reaches out for you, as you carry your small and crying baby girl in one arm.

you softly sigh and wave with your hand.

“raf, you'll be okay.”

he shakes his head dramatically, managing to yank his arm away from thomas and running back to you.

he hugs you, trying to be gentle so as not to crush his little coral.

he's wailing.

your baby is wailing.

thomas and you share glances, and you quietly kiss rafayel's head.

“sweetheart, we'll be waiting for you, yeah? go make us proud.”

he sniffles and looks up at you.

destiny is evil.

dragging him away from his gorgeous wife and his tiny baby girl.

all for this stupid, high-class, top secret, stupid, and ultra stupid, stupidly stupid art convention.

did he mention stupid?

yeah.

thomas once again guides him back to the car, and with puppy eyes, he looks at you.

“talk to her about me! don't let her forget me! i'll be back, i promise i'll be back!”

and with that, you go inside and try to quiet down your daughter, softly humming and cooing for her.

five months later, and, to be honest, you feel drained.

you miss your husband.

the house is a mess.

your baby girl is just as needy and dramatic as her father, and even when you love her deeply, it is too much sometimes.

as you try to clean around with her in a backpack carrier, the door soon opens fast, making you jump.

thomas opens his mouth to apologize for the sudden entrance, but rafayel is running.

no, sprinting.

“my dearest!”

he pants, and upon seeing you, he pulls you in, crashing both your chests together and peppering your face with fast, quick kisses, each one a bit needier than the last.

“raf—”

“oh, look at you… so gorgeous, my pearl. did you miss me? i missed you a lot! it was unbearable, atrocious, gut-wrenching—”

thomas takes this as his cue to leave, and you subtly nod his way to say goodbye.

rafayel pulls back to look at you, and then, he sees a tiny head peeking from behind your back.

big, shiny eyes, with a mix of teal and pink creating a soft purple.

deep violet curls messily sticking out.

pink, soft and chubby cheeks.

he almost faints.

“m… my little coral…”

he whispers, approaching with shaky hands.

your gaze softens and your initial shock subsides as you turn around for him to look at her better.

she just stares at first, clearly looking at this random man with both curiosity and a bit of apprehension.

until he carefully kisses her forehead and starts talking.

“there she is, so beautiful… my precious tiny starfish, the prettiest princess.”

you suddenly hear cooing and happy babbling as your baby reaches out for him, outstretching her tiny, chubby arms toward her father.

he feels like fainting; again.

he cradles her in his arms, rocking her slightly before looking back at you with a soft, adoring glance.

“thank you, my pearl…”

you take off the carrier and sigh tiredly, but very, very happy and relieved to have him back home.

“thank you for what, sweetheart?”

he looks down at the baby, who happily stares up at him while giggling.

“for… for taking care of her. for being so strong, for waiting for me. i'm sorry for being away for so long…”

he shakily kisses his baby's forehead, before approaching you to kiss yours, his lips lingering.

“please, rest. i'll prepare a bubble bath for you. do we have eggs? i'll cook something. is her diaper clean?”

he lifts her up and soon regrets doing so when the smell reaches his nose.

“nevermind. i'll take care of it.”

and you're so grateful for that.

you try to answer or at least keep up with his rambling, but he's moving around with his daughter in his hands, ready to just take off as if he never left at all.

so, you do as he says, and you finally sigh once you lay down on your shared bed, which won't be so cold nor feel too big anymore.

meanwhile, rafayel and his little coral are bonding.

he practiced a lot when you were pregnant, so he is ecstatic once he nails the diaper change.

now, he dedicates this moment to appreciate how much his baby has grown in his absence.

she's perfect.

her tiny nose, her aware eyes, her squishy cheeks…

huh?

he tilts his head.

she looks… she looks like him.

there's no trace of your eyes, not even your eye color. he doesn't see your nose, nor your lips.

geez, not even your hair.

“wow… were my genes that greedy?”

he whispers, noticing she even has his pout as she is about to cry.

…

oh!

he quickly picks her up and rocks her, shushing her as she cries for unknown reasons.

“okay, okay… let's go prepare mommy a bath, yeah? do you like baths, hm? are you a little mermaid? yeah, i bet you are.”

he quickly tries to distract her, and it seemingly works.

yup.

she's definitely a carbon copy of him.

and after he fills up the tub, he'll make sure to thank you in different ways, not only for being the greatest mother ever, but also for giving him the second greatest gift he has and treasures deeply, even when your genes gave up.

or, as he cockily starts to think, even when your genes also fell in love with him so much that they had to replicate him through your precious baby girl.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

he was murderous.

literally.

he was about to make some folks disappear, because they threatened his beloved wife and, not satisfied with that, they put his daughter's name in their filthy mouths too.

he had to send you away.

not because he didn't trust you to be strong enough to defend yourself and your baby girl, but because he felt vulnerable.

after she came into this world, he found another reason to live, to die and to kill for.

and he wouldn't risk either of you, so he sent you to a safe place, with mephisto always by your side.

it hurt, seeing you with your sleeping baby in your arms, looking up at him and begging for him to stay safe, even though you knew he would be.

your worry was endearing, because no matter how strong he is, you still feared losing him, just as much as he feared losing you.

with a lingering kiss on your lips, and a soft kiss on your daughter's tiny cheek, he lets you go.

and it isn't until some months later that he finally gets rid of not only those bastards, but also a couple of organizations that intended to betray him —just for funsies and to release his pent-up frustration.

he comes back for you both, —and mephisto, of course— and he looks for you in the main bedroom of the house you were in.

he doesn't see you at first, but he can hear you humming in the bathroom, as you gently brush the short and thin silverish-white strands of your daughter's hair into two tiny pigtails, while she holds mephisto with her clumsy, chubby hands.

your baby is very calm; a tiny angel, if you will —except when hungry. then, she becomes a tiny monster.

sylus' breath hitches slightly, and he takes in the beautiful sight with a tender look in his eyes.

the same eyes that his baby girl so beautifully carries as well.

you don't notice sylus' presence until your daughter looks his way, and her round eyes sparkle with curiosity.

he almost crumbles when your eyes focus on him too.

his kitten, and his even tinier kitten, safe and sound, right in front of him.

it's a sight for sore eyes, especially after being exposed to gruesome scenes, caused by his very own hands.

the hands you so lovingly hold right now.

“sy…”

he looks at you and doesn't hesitate to hold you in his arms, closing his eyes as he finally has you.

he is where he belongs.

“i am back, darling.”

when you pull back, he focuses on his pretty baby girl, his little princess, cooing back at mephisto, and cawing as he does.

ah, his heart melts.

he softly approaches and picks her up, waiting to see her reaction.

she suddenly feels herself being held so high up by a mysterious set of arms, and when mephisto flies towards sylus' shoulder, she finally meets her dada's gaze.

she looks just like him.

from her attentive gaze, to her adorable white and carefully brushed hair.

there's not a trace of you on her, and while that makes sylus a little bit annoyed, —not at you nor at the baby, of course— he is sure she will soon grow up to be just as wonderful and smart as her mommy.

“hello there, my sweet girl…”

he softly says, looking at those eyes; those beautiful crimson eyes he knows will be the death of him when she starts asking for things or tries to get away with trouble.

he already knows he'll give her the world, just as he will keep giving it to you too.

his deep voice seems to be to her liking, as she bounces her tiny legs and makes grabby hands toward his face, exploring a bit roughly.

he manages to glance at you, and he notices how tired you are, how much effort it took to take care of her by yourself for months.

he'll take it from here.

he won't let you lift a finger if he can easily do it for you.

he'll let you do what you feel like doing, sure…

but he will let you know you can trust him with everything now that he's back.

you've done so much, after all.

especially after gifting him the precious result of your everlasting love; his precious gem, the one that looks like him, but he's certain also carries your best attributes.

he helps you pack everything, and when he guides you both to his car, carrying his now asleep baby in his arms, two cheerful voices soon interrupt the serene moment.

“no way! she looks just like you!”

luke excitedly says, and kieran chimes in, looking down at your baby girl.

“she's our mini boss!”

“is it even legal to have three bosses?”

you muffle a giggle behind your hand, and sylus simply helps you get inside the car, placing your baby in your arms in the backseat for more security.

“i didn't think you guys cared about legalities.”

you look at them as they each sit next to you.

they coo at the baby, trying to stay quiet after sylus glares at them for almost waking her up.

he's already planning how to get you to relax. he knows it will take a bit of nagging, because you're a bit stubborn and you absolutely love taking care of your daughter, but there is someone who also loves taking care of you.

and he'll always be that person.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

another mission.

but this time, he had to go by himself, as you were on maternity leave.

they should've been a little bit more considerate, given you two had a newborn, and he needed to be there just as much as you.

however, the situation got worse, and he had to go and fix it.

he was sulking, he was pouting, he almost clung to the door like a cat not wanting to be bathed once you tried to convince him to leave.

after peppering your small baby boy with the sweetest of kisses, and making sure to kiss your lips so you'd remember him, he left.

you couldn't complain.

your baby was the sweetest, most calm little boy.

he slept a lot; he only woke up to eat, and when he did, his round azure eyes would close again to take a little nap.

you were well rested, at least.

but you couldn't leave the room, or he'd cry.

and wail.

and scream for you to come back.

but besides that, he was truly an angelic little baby, wrapped in the coziest onesies and tiny beanies over the abundant and messy silvery-blonde hair of his.

xavier came back in the middle of the night, his quiet footsteps muffled by the white noise playing from the tv, and the soft huffs and puffs escaping from both your lips and his baby's.

he stood there, seemingly frozen in time.

his starlight, and his little shiny star.

his favorite constellation, peacefully resting on the couch, wrapped by xavier's favorite blanket, which now carried your scent and your little boy's.

he left his things aside, and kneeled in front of you both, carefully brushing a strand out of your face before kissing your forehead.

the sound was very faint, but your little boy woke up, tiny eyes taking in his surroundings.

and when he sees this unknown man kissing his mommy?

he pouts, lower lip quivering.

and it looks just like when his dada does it when he sulks.

xavier was so in love with how perfect his little boy was, that he didn't register when he started sniffling and crying, effectively waking you up.

you instinctively pulled your baby back to your chest, not opening your eyes as you gently patted his back.

but when you feel a warm, large hand cupping your cheek tenderly, you open them.

and you see xavier, loving and patiently waiting for you.

“xav!”

you softly sit up, still holding a pouty and fussy baby, and you rub your eyes.

“when did you…? how was the mission?”

he smiles and shakes his head, not wanting to talk about work when he literally wishes to praise you, to hold you, to kiss you, and to see his tiny star up close.

“everything went well.”

he simply assures you, before looking at his baby.

“hi… don't be jealous, my little star. i won't take mommy away.”

—you were his first, but he won't say that.—

he stands up and sits by your feet, noticing those huge, teary blue eyes following him.

xavier caresses your legs over the blanket, and the baby shifts, suddenly curious.

you place your baby close to xav, just to see if he'll crawl or try to reach for him.

and the baby eventually does, when he sees xavier's outstretched arms toward him.

when he finally gets to hold his boy, he sighs shakily, pressing him against his chest and nuzzling his cheek against his messy yet soft hair.

“ours.”

he whispers.

you smile and sit next to him, covering both your favorite boys with the blanket.

xavier pulls you closer with his other arm, kissing your head silently so as not to alert the baby.

not only did the tiny creature have his looks.

he apparently was just as jealous.

or well, as jealous as a tiny baby can be, obviously. maybe he doesn't like seeing strangers close to the only person his brain remembers and knows to be safe.

but he will make sure his baby boy soon knows he is to trust, too. he's his dada, after all, and the love xav feels for him —and you— could travel among thousands of galaxies and beyond.

“he's perfect, he's… he's ours. he's so grown now, yet he is so small.”

xavier whispers, and you understand what he means.

it is so incredible to think he was once a tiny little bean, and now he is growing up, looking just like him, while also wanting nothing but to be close to you and your motherly warmth.

he's growing up too fast, but too perfectly under both your loving and proud gazes.

xavier asks you to teach him where you have everything that the baby needs, because it is his turn to take care of everything. and he'll make sure he doesn't forget, and that he doesn't need to ask you twice, because he wants both your body and mind to rest, knowing he'll be a functional father and even beyond.

after all, you made his life complete, and the least he can do is be the best dad ever and, most importantly, the best man for you, the light in his life.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

it was a catastrophe.

there was a huge natural disaster in a rural area, and zayne had to go with his team to help.

of course, due to the massive destruction, there was no signal and no other forms of communication besides local landlines and old-style letters —which he would later choose to send.

the day he left, you remember how grim it was.

it was raining, the sky was roaring furiously, and your tiny boy was fussing in his father's arms, tiny fists clinging to his tie.

your baby had always been a dada's boy, even when he couldn't even open his eyes yet.

and zayne had to be stronger than ever to put him back in your arms, promising he'd be back as soon as things got better.

he sealed his promise with lots of kisses and nuzzles, for both you and your little boy.

and he left, driving carefully, with you watching as he left from the window, trying your best not to cry as your baby cried too.

he sent letters every day, but they obviously arrived five to six days later.

he was doing well, things were still complicated, and he promised he was taking care of himself.

you wrote back, telling him that your baby now opened his eyes, that his hair was growing, and even sending a footprint after painting your baby's foot to show how his limbs were getting chubbier.

you also attached your pediatrician's reports, just for him to further ensure his baby was doing okay.

not that he doubted it, anyway. you were the best mother, and his heart was serene knowing you two would be there waiting for him, safe and sound.

the day he came back, you actually took your baby to the train station.

you were covered from head to toe, shielding yourself from the cold air.

and your tiny baby had a warm, cozy penguin onesie, holding onto you as his curious eyes looked around, taking everything in.

when the train arrived, and people started to come out, you finally saw zayne and his medical team, all dragging their bags tiredly but satisfied with their work.

the first one to see you was greyson, who pointed at you.

zayne's gaze soon looked for you, and when he saw you, life came back to his eyes.

his strides were long, yet he tried to remain composed.

especially when he saw that gorgeous smile on your lips, one that clearly said “you're finally back.”

he put his bags down and pulled you closer, cradling your head and caressing your hair as his lips pressed to your temple, relishing the warmth of your skin.

he then kissed your lips tenderly.

before looking down at the little penguin in your arms, or rather, his grown baby boy, whose sharp, hazel eyes were on his.

they stared at each other quietly, before zayne hesitated.

would he remember him?

he doubted it.

babies don't really have a good memory, and if they don't interact with someone often, they'll soon forget them.

but when you softly nudged him, he came back to reality and saw his baby reaching out for him silently, expectantly.

everything fell back in place, and he carried his son, peppering his soft face with tiny kisses before nuzzling his cheek against his head; a love gesture you two also shared quite a lot.

you were attentive enough to hear a subtle yet happy squeal coming from yvonne, and you smiled before asking her to stay quiet, as you were enjoying this tender moment between father and son.

eventually, when you two got home, he carefully took his time to examine him.

his dark hair, his hazel eyes, his chubby hands, his feet, his tiny nose. everything.

and his final diagnosis is…

he looks nothing like you.

unbelievable.

inconceivable, even.

he didn't really expect for his genes to be so dominant, or your genes to be this recessive, in any case.

but you were absolutely overjoyed to have a mini zayne, and that joy was more than enough for him to leave said topic aside.

after all, you two could always try and have a mini you running around —when you felt ready, of course.

when he put the baby to sleep, he turned to you. he saw all the letters he sent carefully placed on your nightstand. he saw you tried to keep the place clean, despite having little to no time, as you took care of the baby, of the cooking, of the groceries…

and then he saw that his side of the bed was left intact.

you noticed his gaze and smiled tenderly.

“it… smelled like you. it still does, a little bit. i didn't want to mess it up by sleeping there, and i also wanted our baby boy to have you close, even if it was through your scent.”

ah, he almost broke down right there.

he never wants to leave again.

it was already hard enough to leave for work, and now that he has experienced being truly away from home, from comfort, from you and his tiny penguin, he was more than certain that here was where he was supposed to be.

and first, he would take a month off just to be a father and take care of everything as you took some time for you.

after that, he'd absolutely make up for all these months when he was away. not as a punishment, but rather as worship toward the woman he loves the most, and the woman who oh so lovingly took care of everything; always strong, always graceful.

[lily-bisque]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume seven — forwards beckon rebound

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, suicide, blood and violence, mentions of war—pls remember that this is a fictional work inspired by a comic and i am not using this to rewrite history or treat any tragedies unseriously! tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: listened to sooo much adrianne lenker writing this entire fic and was especially excited to write a reunion volume with this exact song. also—happy one month :’). check out the playlist for the curated mood and for a forehead kiss. mwah, enjoy!

✦ ── word count: 6.1k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - previous interlude - volume eight

art by outdmilk on twt

“…THE WOLVERINE.”

Your heart lodged in your throat like a pebble trying to make its way down a narrow straw opening, the sight of metal tearing through Sukuna’s knuckles enough to make your breaths shallow.

Shiu watched you carefully from his seat upon his stool, feeding into your reaction as it spurred his excitement further, just like he did every time they’d get a new addition on the team and would bring them down here.

You were just the lucky pick of the month.

Your fingers curled into the hem of your dress, digits trembling as you couldn’t even get yourself to blink, much less look away. 

“Now, don’t worry here ladies n’ gents. The claws? ‘S all for show. Sukuna here,” the announcer reassured, slapping a hand against the burly man’s shoulder that was well over his head. “Won’t use ‘em… unless he has to.”

The crowd erupted at that, holding their beer bottles in the air by the necks and clashing them against each other, a rowdy sea of revelers you felt jarringly out of place in. The ringing vibrations of glass sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps littering your cold skin.

The announcer sounded a few whoops into his microphone to rile them up even further, stagehands thrashing the cage with curled fingers to bounce the sound of metal against metal off of the walls.

Sukuna retracted his claws, the glint disappearing beneath his tan skin, huffing as he turned away and dug a hand into his jean pocket. Unlike the familiar box of Marlboro Reds’ he’d normally pull out, he dragged a cigar out and placed it between his teeth in a scowl. He flicked the cap of his lighter case open, swiping the sparkwheel with the pad of his thumb and holding the flame up against the butt.

He laid a forearm against the cage, taking a few puffs from the massive joint, his expression shielded from you.

You didn’t even notice the way you were hyperventilating, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Who the hell had you been staying with? And what the fuck was coming from his hands?

“Apparently he’s from some freak experiment gone wrong,” Shiu shouted over the audience, practically reading your mind from your expression, taking a swig of his whiskey. 

You shivered, peering back at him with wide eyes, blood roaring in your ears and your lips slightly parted as you tried to come up with words that were actively failing you.

As inebriated as the man was, Shiu couldn’t decipher your obvious distress, only assuming it was confusion. “Remember those uh… aliens or whatnot? Freakish rumors of awakened abilities or things sneaking onto Earth?”

You remember what he’s talking about, though he’s describing it poorly. They were coined ‘Mutants.’ Over two centuries ago, there had been a sudden influx of humans with some sort of additional gene mutation, something called the X-gene. People managed to get the story wrong so much that most just chalked it up to rumors as modern civilization was completely unfamiliar with it.

But, as any bored teenager, you’d gone on deep dives online.

In total, there had been around ten thousand humans with this gene, give or take, spanning all over the globe. There had been tales of some with telekinesis, abilities to manipulate the weather, shapeshifting, you name it.

Yet with the fear of humans holding such a capability, they’d been eradicated with bounties placed on their heads.

It was a silent genocide.

And of course, the governments did what they could to keep it quiet. 

But to think of the possibility that those tales were not only true… but there was still one of them to have survived?

And one with sheers from fingers? God, he was like Edward Scissorhands if the guy ditched the melancholy for abrasiveness and dyed his hair pink.

Your thoughts were pulled from you as you heard the sound of wood smashing and splintering. You spun your head back to see Sukuna still turned around, the bald man beside him holding the broken legs of a chair, which looks to have been slammed off of the former's back.

“Oh, it appears that someone is ready to go. Let the fight commence,” the announcer drawled out into his microphone, slipping from the cage door as a stagehand locked it.

Sukuna took another drag of his cigar before flicking it to the mat and crushing it with his foot. Turning around with slow deliberation, he shook his arms and head in one go, like a dog releasing water from their mane.

And on his face was a scowl so deep, so full of disdain and irritation, it made your skin crawl. He balled his fists, no sign of his metal claws bared except the scars that’d been left behind.

The dog tag against his sharp collarbones jingled, a lump settling deep in the pit of your gut as the two men stared each other down with a glare so fierce it made your blood curdle. Their anger could be set ablaze with just the spark of a lighter.

“Shouldn’t have done that, brat,” he growled, voice low and husky and practically vibrating from the recesses of his chest, enough to make the audience feel the hairs on their napes stand on end.

The bald man only stepped closer to Sukuna, seething with rage, his audacity making you taste bile on the back of your throat, sour and nauseating. And then he spat on the ground before him, a toothy grin before he released a few chuckles. “Yer’ kind shoulda’ died long ago.”

Your gaze flickered back to Sukuna, his rage practically emanating off of him in white-hot incandescent ripples and knocking you right off your stool from the impact. His knuckles were white with how hard he was clenching them, jaw twitching beneath the stress of his molars grinding against each other.

Sukuna didn’t respond this time, only lifting his right clenched fist and sending it straight towards the bald man’s jaw, the sound of flesh tearing and bone cracking beneath metal, sending the man flying towards the ground with just one hit.

You hopped from your seat, eyes wide and heart beating rapidly in your chest, on instinct shouting. “Sukuna!”

You thought your voice would be drowned out by the audience, by the boisterous cheers and hoots and hollers alone.

But Sukuna stilled for a moment, eyes scanning the audience slowly, pupils blown before landing on you.

The two of you held eye contact for a moment, your breaths simultaneously hitching and hearts soaring from your chests. His face paled and stunned, your hands trembling and eyes wide.

“City girl…” he whispered, mostly to himself, feet rooted in the ground beneath him as he shuddered.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

Sukuna wasn’t necessarily a man ashamed of what he does, riling up an audience with his abilities for money like some circus freak. He didn‘t even need the money, he was just exhausted from living a life with nothing to pump his adrenaline.

Not to mention, it was an excuse to punch his impish coworkers when they’d finally get the balls to face him.

But seeing you, wide eyes swimming with he wished wasn’t fear and disgust, had his stomach lurching, wanting to cave in on himself.

He doesn’t know how long he stood there, watching as you shivered in place, where you weren’t supposed to be. He thought he’d seen the last of you—he hoped he did.

You shouldn’t see him like this.

A balled fist dug into Sukuna’s core, powered behind a weak thrust but enough to have Sukuna doubling over.

He peered back up, his anger resurfacing again, focused on his coworker that’d only tried to make his life a living hell at each and every turn. Swearing that Sukuna hadn’t met his quota to the boss, whispering with the other lumberjacks like some fuckin’ schoolboy, pestering about why he opted to shut himself out in the outbacks.

Truthfully, the guy had it fuckin’ coming.

He brought his fist up again, this time aiming to cave his nose in, slamming his face and watching blood spray onto his wife beater.

And he just fucking cleaned it.

The bald man wasn’t quite strong or memorable, not enough for Sukuna to even remember his name. He made nicknames up for the guy in his head—beer gut being his favorite as it seemed to protrude each time he came across the asshole downing more alcohol than even Sukuna consumed, which was a lot.

He bruised both of his eyes, broke a finger so he wouldn’t be able to work anytime soon, and was aiming for one of his toes next before the ringer called it.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve seen enough, huh?” The announcer chuckled nervously, sliding his way back onto the ring as two burly men began to pry Sukuna from the half-conscious man rolled up on the floor.

The audience wasn’t as excited as they had been before, some whispering to each other, some displaying their expressions of utter shock and disgust at watching the last two minutes unfold, some even making their way out through the archway and up the stairs after they'd paid their tab.

Sukuna grunted, brushing it off as the announcer came to his side, curling his fingers around Sukuna’s wrist and holding it up as high as he possibly could. “And we definitely have our winner! Undefeated once again, The Wolverine takes home another victory!”

This is the part that Sukuna usually drowns out—the audience erupting in roars one final time for the evening as the announcer slaps the prize money into his hand, fat wads that he’d just end up stuffing away somewhere mindlessly, and stomping out towards the locker room while everyone made sure to step out of his way.

But he shivered again, eyes locking to where you previously stood, and you were nowhere to be seen.

Sukuna inhaled sharply, forgetting the money entirely, and throwing himself out of the cage. The remaining audience was stunned at the action, stilling to watch his next move unfold as they held their breaths.

He sprinted up the steps, skipping every third and making his way up to the pawn storefront. To any regular customer, he looked downright insane. Covered in specks of blood as his chest heaved with a wild look in his eyes.

He peered down towards the store owner, the same guy he saw every time he’d come in for a fight. “You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this high, wearing a sundress?” He pressed, eyes wide with desperation.

“Uhhhh… she just left. With some guy,” he replied, pointing to the store doors.

Sukuna brushed off how that made his world tilt, grunting and storming out of the doors.

His head spun on a swivel on the empty night streets, feeling sprinkles of rain come down and cool his heated skin. He spotted you instantly, standing on some sidewalk a few paces away and waving your arms around to some swaying raven-haired man that looked vaguely familiar.

Adrenaline clouded Sukuna’s judgement as you pushed a hand against the guy's shoulder who only chuckled in response.

Sukuna stomped over, locking eyes with the man and stopping right before him. “Who the fuck are you?” He barked, staring the guy down with a fire swirling in his eyes.

The guy, obviously drunk, simply laughed and took a few steps back. “My bad, man. She’s all yours,” he smirked in your direction, lifting a glass he seemed to have snagged and began making his way down the sidewalk while practically tripping over his own feet.

Sukuna’s frown only deepened at his retreating figure for a few moments, before turning to peer down at you.

He could feel his world come to a halt, eyes dancing across your dolled-up and stunned figure.

You watched his gaze immediately soften, the harsh lines across his blood-speckled face ease up as the fire ablaze in his irises were snuffed out. 

“You know him?” He grunted.

You shook your head.

He sighed, exasperated. “The fuck are you doing here?” He pressed, and though he wished it were sharper, his edges around you seemed to round out as it came out as a whisper. He sounded genuinely concerned.

You opened your mouth, hands tightening around the little purse you’d brought with you. “I-I wanted to see you,” you replied softly in the night air, the rain only slowly picking up as it splattered against your bare skin.

It sounded stupid now. To show up to his work and bring him lunch, as if you were life-long friends that went way back when in actuality you barely knew each other. 

But you couldn’t give it much thought as you recalled what you’d just seen downstairs before hurrying out. What you could barely wrap your head around.

You had evidence that it was real enough, those sheers protruding from his hands and Shiu making far too many jokes about Sukuna that only made you jab your finger into his chest. 

“Can’t imagine living with those marks either. A walking freakshow.”

“Hope a pretty girl like you won’t waste time with him.”

“Nobody knows squat about the guy. You really think you know him?”

You knew you didn’t know much about him. But what you did know was that he had a heart—even underneath all of his aggressive gestures and spiky thorns. 

He was someone you’d grown to know quite well in a short time, someone you were quite fond of.

But now it felt tainted. You didn’t want to see Sukuna like that. No—you felt like you shouldn’t see him like that, intruding on a part of his left he’d obviously kept secret from you.

With a secret like that, you couldn’t blame him. He had no one but a pet dog by his side since they couldn’t get past his rough edges to see the tender parts of him you’d managed to witness momentarily.

Sukuna inhaled deeply, running a hand through his pink tresses and sighing. “Listen, I can explain just—.”

“Shiu already did,” You interrupted, jutting a thumb behind you to what Sukuna assumes was the guy who’d accompanied you, swallowing the thick lump lodged in your throat. You didn’t want to make him have to explain himself.

Yet you’d only made it more awkward, making it seem like you were actively trying to get away from Sukuna.

He eyed you, the creases near his eyes deepening as he squinted. “Uh, okay. Whatever. You drive here?” He suddenly changed the subject, obviously not comfortable with talking about the elephant in the room either.

You nodded.

He hummed. “Where’s your car?”

“It’s right—.” You turned around and pointed to where it was parked, only to see that it was gone. “Oh my god.”

You paled, pacing towards where it was supposed to be with Sukuna on your heel and feeling your stomach reel. “It was right here I… I parked it right here,” you admitted, voice laced with panic.

“Uh…” Sukuna pointed a finger towards the ‘no-parking’ sign just a few feet away.

You shivered at that, feeling your waterline prickle with tears. If you thought you couldn’t be even more shocked this evening, you just had to go and be a dumbass and get your car towed.

You shook your hands in front of you, mind spinning with a solution. “I’ll just call a cab and head back… yeah, that sounds fine…” you spoke to yourself under your breath, doing your best to reassure yourself.

Sukuna cocked his head at your little meltdown. “My trucks parked ‘round the back. You live in the city, right? Can give you a lift—.”

“No!” You interrupted suddenly.

Sukuna paused at that, watching as the shoe he’d been waiting to finally drop hit the floor. You were afraid of him. It made sense, what else did he expect? You’d just seen him not only broadcasted in a ring as a freak of nature, but watched metal tear through his fists.

You two didn’t live remotely in the same world.

He swallowed the steadily rising bile. “Got it. Need anything from me?” He asked, throat gravelly, wanting the Earth to swallow him whole as he donned a nonchalant front.

You smiled weakly, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry, Sukuna. It’s not—that’s not it,” you sighed, worrying your lip between your teeth.

Oh.

Then what is it?

“I may have exponentially fucked up,” you whispered, sourly laughing to yourself as you waved your hands dramatically.

“Alright. What’s up?” He pressed on, his tongue feeling thick in his maw.

“You’re gonna think I’m insane,” you revealed, pursing your lips as you peered up at him, orbs darting between his left and right ones.

“Might be kinda hard given my circumstances,” he dryly teased, the humor unlike him but somewhat settling your worries.

You only stared up at him, your foot tapping against the ground as you mulled over something he couldn’t quite puzzle together, before you spoke.

“I sold my apartment and quit my job.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened at the admission, choking on his saliva and faltering. “You… what?” He huffed out, bewildered at your words.

You laughed insanely to yourself, enough to make Sukuna worry about your well-being. “Do you think you could drive me to my motel?” You quiered, rocking on the backs of your heels.

Sukuna doesn’t know exactly what fluttered in his stomach as he watched you plead to him, a look he’d seen multiple times on you when you’d beg for nearly anything when you stayed with him.

Putting up the clothesline, playing another one of his vinyls while he tried to make himself food, complaining about the lack of options with his cable.

Oh, you were audacious. But he gave in nearly every time to your demands. Though not without huffing and puffing.

“Uh. Yeah,” he spoke, not wanting to press about your obvious mania and turning on his heel.

 You squealed and followed suit, feet tapping against the pavement as it finally began to rain cats and dogs.

You yelped, peering up as the tempestuous storm clouds you’d seen when you first walked into the pawn store began to unleash their fury.

“Keep up if you can,” Sukuna huffed, pulling his arms to his sides and jogging around a corner as water began to pelt the concrete sidewalk.

You gasped at his audacity, feeling your sandals come down in wet puddles as Sukuna grinned to himself and hurried away from you, leaving you to effectively be drenched.

You rushed around the tight corner, quickly spotting Sukuna pulling himself into the driver's seat of a rusted red truck. You followed quickly, skin cold and littered with goosebumps, hair matting to your cheeks despite how you swatted the strands from your face.

You wrenched the door open with a creaky groan, having to practically climb into the elevated vehicle, the wet part of your skirt plastering to your seat. You pulled the door shut with a thunderous slam, catching your breath as you glanced over at Sukuna who was eyeing you, before letting out a snort.

You slapped your hand over your mouth, heat rising from your wet nape, as you began to giggle into your hand. You weren’t even quite sure what you were laughing at, simply giggling at the insane turn of the events that left your mind spinning.

Sukuna bit the inside of his cheek as you tossed your head back against the headrest, your dress sticking to your curves and giving it a see-through sheen.

He tore his gaze away with warm cheeks, reaching forward to your side to access the dashboard and pulling the spacious compartment open. You quieted, feeling Sukuna’s corded forearm graze your bare knee and stilling. He was incredibly warm, but it sent a chill shooting up your spine and making you stiffen.

He tugged a flannel out, probably one he kept as a spare, and tossed it to you. “‘S cold,” he muttered, adjusting in his seat as he peered out the windshield, watching as the rain only continued to patter against the glass continuously, not looking like it’d be letting up anytime soon.

You couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t put it on for himself since he was only wearing a wife beater, but kept your mouth shut.

He cranked the heat, the windshield swiftly fogging up.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart clench again, before making a joke to scissor through the wired tight tension. “Borrowing your clothes again,” you chuckled weakly, pulling it around your shoulders and buttoning it up. Just like the other articles you’d worn, this one hung off of you as you couldn’t fill it in like Sukuna managed to.

He grunted in response.

You shifted in your seat, going quiet and watching a hand of his lift to the steering wheel. You made note of the scars you’d seen before, the same ones still there and wound shut despite him just tearing through them minutes ago.

He frowned deeply once he caught wind of your gawking. “Quit starin’.”

You didn’t falter, his usual grumpy antics picking up. “How are you not bleeding?” You asked in a hushed and observant tone, eyes still dialed in on his hand.

Forget the rule of thumb of not touching Sukuna—you reached out without hesitation, a finger brushing against the calloused and marked skin, but Sukuna pulled away as if you’d burned him and scowled.

Still, you weren’t deterred, peering up at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes.

He could only stare at you in confusion, hands flexing like he couldn’t control his movements. “Uh. I can heal. Skin regenerates,” he coughed out.

You sat up at that, eyes widening like an owl. “Wait… wait! So in the forest when you hurt your hand…?”

He nodded curtly, jaw tensing at the remembrance.

You gasped. “Oh my goodness…” you trailed off, melting into your seat as the realization itself sunk in. That must’ve been why he didn’t want to show you where his hand had torn as it would’ve healed itself within moments.

Sukuna bleakly laughed. “That cool to you?”

You shrugged. “I guess. Yeah. Do you not find it cool?”

He didn’t answer that, though you could tell from his expression just what he thought of it. His eyebrows drew in as he leaned against the window, turning his body towards you. “…You’re not scared of me?” He asked, feeling as if he’d been walking on eggshells around you, nervous he’d slip up and scare you away.

You tilted your head in genuine wonder. “Scared?”

Huh.

“I mean… yeah. I’ve got knives for hands,” he admitted grimly.

“I know. But why should I be scared?”

He cleared his throat, shuffling in his seat nervously at the sudden spotlight casted on him. “Ya know, the claws and all. The fightin’. Didn’t think a girl like you would stick around for the aftermath,” he admitted.

You cocked your head with a smirk. “A girl like me? What’s that ‘spose to mean?”

He puffed air through his nose, his silence making you giggle.

It was quiet for a few short moments, just the rain to keep the both of your ears company. But you were still brimming with excitement, a kettle ready to whistle and burst.

You flattened out the lower half of your skirt, damp and sticking to your thighs. “So…. ‘The Wolverine…’” You spoke, stifling a giggle at how flashy it sounded. “What? You trade your Reds for Backwoods ‘n you’re a changed man?”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, holding back a smile as best as he possibly could, casting his gaze to his lap. “You mean you ain’t recognize me no more?” He whispered softly, leaning in just a bit as his arm laid against the center console.

The close proximity made you freeze up like ice despite the heat blasting, plastering yourself to the passenger door. His eyes narrowed for a moment, taking in the sight of you in his shirt once again, before pulling back and twisting a hand against the leather steering wheel. He ignored the lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in quite some time, recentering himself in reality. “Really, though. Why’re you back here?”

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, nose wrinkling as you thought about the last couple of days.

If Sukuna knew what you were planning, he’d have your head on a spit.

So your best idea was to ensure he’d at least drive you to your motel before sending you back into the city.

“Don’t know what you did for work in the city, but I can’t see why you’d ditch that life behind,” he grumbled, eyebrows drawn in confusion, trying to puzzle together the small pieces of information you were giving him to see the bigger picture.

“Take me to the motel first. Then I’ll tell you.”

He tilted his head at that, pausing for a moment, unsure at your crypticness, but Sukuna was not one to question too much.

“Buckle up, city girl.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

The ride back was nothing short of stressful.

He didn’t wait for the rain to clear, putting the gear shift into reverse and pulling out of the back lot.

There was hail now—pelting against the rusted metal of the car as he flicked on the radio and tuned into the local station. They were playing some Neil Young, the pedal steel woven into the instrumental making you sway softly.

As much as Sukuna wanted to eye you from his peripherals, he had to hone his focus as most cars’ lights on the main road were dull, narrowly avoiding multiple fallen trunks and stopped vehicles.

But the guy was adamant on getting back, ignoring the flashing lightning that filled the sky followed by sharp cracks of thunder that shook the Earth’s core. You took the time to eye him, to notice the heavier bags beneath his eyes as if he wasn’t sleeping. Maybe he hadn’t been these days. But you weren’t about to get on this grown and grumpy man’s ass about his bedtime.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered under his breath, finally spotting the dim neon lights of some shady motel, flickering on and off every few moments.

He pulled into the lot, putting the car into the park and turning towards you. “Spill.”

You bit your lip. “I’ve got a question for you first.”

He sighed at that, laced with nothing short of indignation. “What?”

“How exactly are you going to get back up to your place this late, and with this weather?”

He narrowed his eyes, shuffling in his seat. “Gonna camp out right here,” he muttered.

“Huh?” You pushed, tilting your head. “Why on Earth would you do that?”

“Wouldn’t be my first time,” he shrugged, raking a hand through his damp tresses.

You didn’t even know how to bring up how he was still drenched from the rain, but now he was planning on sleeping in his car of all places?

“Oh like hell you are,” you scoffed loudly and somewhat beside your usual tone, enough to make the large man flinch.

You pushed your passenger door open, hopping out and trying not to slip as you paced towards the motel lobby, hands covering your hair as you hurried in.

There was an older woman at the front desk with tight lines on her crinkled paper-like skin, glasses perched on her nose as she scanned through some large book.

But the issue was the group that filled up the lobby, multiple families soaking wet, practically begging for a room.

“Sorry everybody,” she drawled out, peeking up from her desk. “Last room was jus’ booked!”

Everyone in the lobby sighed, worries and trepidation written into their expressions as they filed out.

You felt your shoulders droop, dragging your feet back out of the lobby but hurrying back to the stark red truck awaiting you.

You hopped back in, tugging the door shut and staring up at Sukuna with wide, sad eyes. “They’re fully booked!”

He shrugged, adjusting in his seat and tossing his head back to shut his eyes. “Not like it matters. Was plannin’ on knockin’ out right here.”

You scrunched your nose up as if you smelled something foul, poking your finger against his bicep, making him groan. “What, woman?”

“You can’t sleep out here!”

“Like hell I can’t, brat.”

You scoffed. “Fine. At least use my shower, then.”

He peeked an eye open skeptically. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes. “‘Cause you reek.”

He chuckled at that for a moment, recalling how he’d used that same line on you when he’d first met you, leaning towards you to flick your forehead. “Nah. Mutants can’t expel odor.”

You tilted your head in awe. “Wait. Really?”

Huh. Cute.

He flared his nostrils, pausing for a moment at your naivety. “You really ain’t the brightest,” he mumbled, pushing out of the car.

You straightened out, quickly scrambling out of the passenger side, sandals splashing in the murky lot water, hurrying after him as he made his way towards the sidewalk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Where’s your room?” He grumbled, already over teasing you.

You pointed in the direction of it, the two of you pacing over as quickly as you could.

You shuffled through your clutch, tugging your room key out and shoving it into the keyhole before pushing it open. You made your way inside, Sukuna following and shutting the room behind him.

Once the lock turned, only then did you feel the air still, your breaths stalling for a moment in the newfound silence coupled with the gentle patter of rain just outside.

He had to duck quite a bit—the small room obviously not accommodating to his height, making you hold back a giggle.

You headed over to your plethora of bags on your bed, shuffling through them and grabbing out a change of clothes. Thank god you’d brought everything in—God forbid instead of leaving your suitcase and bags in your car and having them towed away too. “Mind if I shower first?” You posed, glancing over your shoulder.

Sukuna was pacing around the room, as if he didn’t know which corner to sink into, before humming in approval.

You smiled, grabbing the last of your essentials and hurrying in.

Your shower wasn’t long, just enough to scrub away the rain and makeup. You noticed how your makeup was ruined, just like the day of your hike, mascara running watery and clumpy trails down the rounds of your cheeks akin to mud.

Once you’d finished, you wrapped a towel around your hair, and dried yourself off before slathering some lotion on and getting changed.

You padded out of the restroom, seeing Sukuna hunched over the small desk that he managed to dwarf—like nearly every other furniture he’d come across. You felt the corners of your lips tug upwards, stepping towards him and whispering his name like it were some secret. “Sukuna…?”

He didn’t respond, chest rising and falling in rhythm.

Your eyes narrowed, bringing a hand down to his shoulder to poke him. Once your hand made contact with the bare skin of his shoulders, he flinched and jumped up quickly, massive hands to wrap around your biceps on instinct.

His body moved before had even fully awoken, fingers curled around you. Not tight, not painful. Just firm. Enough to cage you in his grasp.

You stilled, eyes wide at his distress.

It took him a moment to realize where he was, blinking the sleep from his eyes before he inhaled sharply, releasing you and standing immediately.

His head bumped the ceiling with an awkward thunk! that made you gasp. “Oh my god. Are you o—.”

He bristled, shoving past you with a throaty grunt and hurrying into the restroom to slam the door.

You paused, blood roaring in your ears, the places where he’d once held you practically on fire from the contact, warmth lingering in his absence.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was attempting to catch his breath in the bathroom. He shouldn’t be around you, not anymore than he has to be. You’d simply been waking him up, most likely to shower, and his hands came flying to manhandle you despite your pure intentions.

Who knows what would have happened if he’d unsheathed his metallic claws, tearing into your delicate and unmarked skin?

He tossed his head back against the wood, jaw tensing with frustration.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

Sukuna hadn’t been in the shower for too long either, just enough time for you to settle into your sheets and prop open a book before you’d lull off.

He pulled the door open, nearly tearing it off of its hinges with his brutish strength.

“Careful, there. I don’t have insurance,” you sleepily chuckled from your focus on your novel.

Sukuna’s eye twitched, irritated at your nonchalance and casual demeanor when he’d nearly just hurt you.

Why were you so kind to him?

“I’m headin’ out,” he gruffed under his breath, pacing towards the door in the same clothes he’d come in.

You nodded slowly, not even glancing up before a lightbulb went off in your head. “Wait!”

There was a stumble in his gait, fixing you with that same vexed stare.

“I didn’t tell you why I’m here,” you grinned lopsidedly, setting your book to the side.

You were all tucked into the motel sheets, feet wiggling beneath the duvet, enough to force Sukuna to keep his gaze trained on your eyes. “Alright, then. Spit it out, brat.”

You nibbled on your lip, adjusting from where you sat to sit on the backs of your heels, laying your hands on your thighs.

“I’m moving in with you!”

Sukuna continued to stare at you, nothing but absolute gall in his eyes. “…What?”

“Mhm! But just until you help me build a place of my own,” you nodded, head turned in thought. 

Slow your fucking roll. You wanted to move where?

“So where on earth was my fuckin’ input when you came to this conclusion?”

You inhaled deeply, as if you knew this was going to happen and it made Sukuna falter. “Had a feeling you’d react like this…” you woefully trailed off, nodding to yourself as you stared at your lap.

God, you were nothing without your dramatic flair.

“Which is why,” you added, pulling your bag up from the floor onto the duvet and sifting through it. “I brought this.”

You slapped down a few bundles of far too much cash, enough to shoot Sukuna’s eyes to his hairline. “Fuck am I lookin’ at?”

“I pay you. You let me move in and build a house in the sticks. A win-win situation.”

Sukuna opened his mouth, ready to spew a slew of curses at you at the fact that you’d come to some verdict with absolutely no care for Sukuna, before he backed down and took a deep breath. “I’m doing… what?”

“Plus, you said it’s lonely up there. Wouldn’t you love it if you had me as a next door neighbor?”

He cringed, slowly shaking his head. “You’re out of your mind if you think—.”

“Think about it! Before you say no,” you interrupted, leaning up to rest your shins against the duvet and shuffle your way towards him. “Please.”

He narrowed his eyes, that familiar pleading stare in your eyes, running his tongue over his teeth. “Fine. But don’t count on nothin’.”

You beamed, getting up to your feet and hopping around on your bed, cheering loudly enough to get a noise complaint. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“Enough of that,” he huffed, making his way to the door and tugging it open.

He shut the door behind him, leaving you in your ecstatic reverie, thankful that the rain had stopped. It smelled of damp earth and clean linen, most likely from the active laundry room he could hear in the distance, a muffled dryer at work.

He paced over to his truck, throwing himself inside with a light sway of the vehicle and placing his hands over the steering wheel with a sigh.

He’s not quite sure what to make of your sudden and wildly impulsive decisions, and the fact that his revealed identity isn’t scaring you.

But to think that someone would impulsively quit their job and sell their place in the city to live in the outback’s of all fucking places? Something ain’t adding up.

Was it your ex-husband? Had he said something to you? 

Not that it mattered to him.

From day one, he was never quite sure what to make of you, but he’s too far fucking exhausted to rattle his brain with it right now.

[livwritessometimes]

Ex Boyfriend Interview w/ Lando Norris

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - I remember reading this 'Ex boyfriend interview' thing a long time ago when I had a different account and recently I found a screenshot I had of that. I think the person who originally wrote it has deactivated their account because I couldn't find them anywhere but they wrote it for Seventeen. So I thought about making something similar for F1.

: Also do you guys want this for other drivers too?

...

[The video starts with a minimalist set. Two black stools sit a few feet apart, facing each other. Between them is a small table holding two water bottles and a box of tissues.]

[Two people enter from opposite sides, take a seat on the stools, exchanging a quick glance before looking away]

Interviewer: We understand you were both invited by a mutual friend, thank you for coming. We know this might feel a little uncomfortable, since we'll be discussing your past relationship. There's no pressure to answer everything, feel free to take a break in between if needed.

Shall we begin?

...

Interviewer: How long were you guys together for?

"A little less than a year," says Y/n rubbing her arm in hopes to calm down her nerves.

"Seven months," Lando whispered, just barely audible all thanks to the mic.

Interviewer: And how long has it been since the break up?

"It'll be seven months next month," said Lando, answering the question this time.

Y/n nods at Lando's answer.

...

Interviewer: Who ended it?

"Um- I did," Lando said his voice laced with guilt.

Y/n didn't say anything, just nodded to Lando's answer.

Interviewer: Why?

"I thought I needed space," says Lando shifting a little on the stool which suddenly became a little uncomfortable. He continued, "The distance, our schedule difference, the season, it all became a bit too much. We could feel the distance."

Interviewer: Was it mutual?

"No," Y/n says quietly. "But I respected his decision," she finishes.

Lando finally looked at her and nodded.

"I didn't think you'd take it that well," He admitted, more to himself than the interviewer or even Y/n.

"Would you have preferred if I had begged you to stay?" Y/n said with a hollow smile.

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea how to answer this. Was there even a way he could?

...

Interviewer: What do you remember the most about your relationship?

Lando looked at Y/n, before saying, "Just how easy everything felt. Well...until I made things hard."

Y/n smiled at Lando, "Sunday nights," she says. "After every race we would cook dinner together and always end the night with a movie, no matter the race result," she finished.

Lando smiled at that, before letting out a soft chuckle, "even though both of us were shit at cooking," he said.

"Talk about yourself Norris, I made some killer pasta," Y/n scoffed, offended at the accusation.

"That you did," Lando said smiling softly at the girl in front of him.

...

Interviewer: Do you think you made the right choice?

Lando's smile fades at that question. He shifts slightly in his seat. "I thought the weight would eventually lift, but it never did," he said.

There's silence. No one says a word.

Lando quickly swipes his thumb under his eye, trying to play it off, hoping the camera won't catch the stray tear.

Y/n watches him, not reaching out but not looking away either.

...

Interviewer: Have you reached out since the breakup?

Lando shakes his head, slightly embarrassed. "I kept on writing messages but never had the guts to send them through," he said looking at Y/n.

Y/n looked at him and said, "I did see you typing this one time, then it disappeared."

"I was scared of how you'd react since I was one the who ended it," Lando said looking down.

Interviewer: What do you think went wrong?

"I thought I could handle everything but the race, the pressure, it all reached a point where I couldn't even recognize myself anymore," Lando said, running his hands through his curls.

"Instead of talking to me about this, you just left," Y/n says softly.

"I just didn't want to disappoint you," he says.

Y/n looked at him for a long time before saying, "You didn't. You just broke me a little."

...

Interviewer: Do you still love each other?

Lando doesn't speak up immediately, his gaze lingers just a little bit longer on Y/n before looking away. "I tried not to, I really did," he admitted.

"But?" Y/n asked, her voice barely audible

"But I think a part of me still does," Lando finished.

"I think," Y/n starts looking at lando, "there will always be a part of me that loves a part of you."

...

Interviewer: What did you learn from this relationship?

"That love isn't something you just feel," Y/n says, looking at Lando. "You have to be there through the good times and the bad. Especially the bad times," she finished.

He didn't say anything, just nods.

"I think, space isn't always the solution. Turns out going through things alone doesn't make you stronger, just lonelier," Lando admitted.

Interviewer: Would you like to stay in touch after this?

Y/n pauses for a moment, there is a look of hesitation in her eyes.

Lando took that as his sign, "More than anything," he said, looking straight into her eyes.

Her expression softens at his answer. "Yeah, I think I'd like that," she says finally.

"Yeah?" Lando questioned softly, unable to control the smile that spread across his face.

"Yeah!," Y/n answered, smiling softly at the boy

The camera lingers just a little bit longer focusing on the two before the screen faded to black.

...

Tags: @wobblymug | @evasmlp | @ln8118 | @piastri-fvx | @vannylen2144 | @freyathehuntress

[athenalvss]

Batsis X Wally West with an accidental pregnancy? How’s everyone reacting? Is Bruce (or dick) trying to strangle Wally?

FLASHGNACY — ( Wally west! )

summary: You and Wally had a little slip-up, and now it's time to tell the whole Batfam about the little bean

pairing: Wally west x batsis!reader

open request - Wally masterlist

You didn't plan it, obviously, it was irresponsible of you two, you had recently returned from a mission that had left you exhausted and stressed, and what was the best way for you to relax after a mission? Fucking. Because it had been totally irresistible to feel Wally's hands running down the back of your suit and how his hand felt holding your hips while he stood behind you, leaning his body against you, while you listened to Dick's final speech after the mission.

And it was more than enough to get to where you were today.

Now you're in the bathroom, holding a positive test, gasping for air. You've faced assassins, cosmic entities, and even Alfred's trial, but this is definitely beyond you.

And Wally is, how to put it... a little tense, the first thing that crosses his mind was you, he knew that with you he wanted to have children and have his whole life, but he didn't think it would happen so quickly, but you know what? it's okay, as long as you were healthy and nothing happened to you, it would be fine, both can make a beautiful family. Then he thought about his family, they definitely wouldn't say anything bad to him, maybe his Aunt would look at him like "I gave you a talk, remember?" but she would be happy, just like Barry, you and he weren't children anymore, so nothing to reproach.

But the problem was when he remembered what the real problem was, your family, how would you tell the richest man in Gotham City, who was also the Dark Knight, that he had accidentally make pregnat his daughter? Or your brothers, Dick and Jason wanted to kill him, Tim would be quite surprised by the miscalculation of you two, but Damian and Bruce were the real problem, Bruce would end his life, he was more than sure, but if he didn’t do it, he was sure that Damian would, that boy really hated him, he hated that his sister was dating him for some reason, and now he found out about this, he would definitely die.

It was Bruce you decided to tell everything to first; it was better to tell him in person than for him to hear it from others. The echo of their footsteps resonated in the vast space of the Batcave, the darkness barely interrupted by the faint glow of the screens illuminating Bruce's serious face. Alfred stood to one side of him. He didn't turn around immediately, but the silence between the three of you was charged with an unbearable electricity, a weight that crushed every unspoken word.

Wally paced beside you, restless, biting his lip, hands in his pockets, trying to gather his thoughts. He knew there was no turning back.

As you approached, you felt your heart race. It wasn't just the news you had to deliver, but the stares you'd face. The gaze of your father and your grandfather. The air seemed to grow thicker, almost cold, as your fingers nervously intertwined.

With your voice firmer than you felt, you said, "Can we talk?" Your voice was louder than you expected, but it didn't waver. You couldn't afford to tremble, not in front of him.

Bruce didn't respond immediately. He just turned slowly toward you, his gaze falling on you first, then on Wally, who was standing half a step behind. Alfred, at his side, frowned slightly, not that that was a common occurrence.

"Of course," Bruce finally replied, with that calmness of his that could sometimes be more terrifying than any scream.

He stepped back from the console, crossed his arms, and waited. There was no greeting. No gesture of relief at seeing them safe and sound. Just that implacable air that enveloped him every time he prepared to face a critical situation.

"What's going on?" he added.

Wally gulped beside you. You felt him shift subtly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if his legs wanted to run but their roots were anchored to the stone of the Batcave. For the first time, the fastest boy in the world seemed unsure of how to move forward.

It was you who took a step forward. You felt the pounding in your ears, in your throat, as if your own body wanted to retreat but you didn't. You couldn't. It wasn't just your truth you were about to let go of: it was the future reaching out to them without asking permission.

"I'm pregnant," you said, without embellishment.

The words didn't crash. They didn't explode. They just hung there, floating in the icy air of the cave. Bruce didn't react immediately. He watched you intently. He studied your face as if he could gauge your heart rate, your level of conviction, your fear. Then he looked at Wally, who held his gaze as if his life depended on it.

Alfred, on the other hand, was the first to move. Very slowly, as if the words had just unwound a part of his chest that had been locked away for years. His eyes widened slightly. Then they softened completely. "Oh..." he said briefly, his lips trembling a little before breaking into a small, warm smile. "My God."

Bruce glanced at him, and in that gesture, a silent conversation began between them. Years and years of shared silence, of open wounds, of a family built from rubble… and now this.

A son. A grandson.

Bruce took a deep breath and looked back at you. "How long have you known?" he asked, his voice low and not harsh.

"Couple days ago" you replied.

He nodded once, as if confirming something he'd already suspected. Bruce always knew everything before anyone told him, but this time, this time he was surprised. The silence returned, but it wasn't as oppressive this time. It was as if all thoughts were adjusting to the new order of the universe.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked you. And that question, coming from him, was all you needed.

"Yes" you replied, and this time your voice did tremble a little. But not from fear.

Alfred approached, as if he couldn't stay away for a second longer. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, warm, protective, barely trembling.

"Darling," he murmured, his eyes glassy. "You don't know how much this means. Your father..." He paused, glancing at Bruce. "Well, he may not say it out loud, but this... this is important to him. To all of us."

Wally looked down, smiling faintly, as if he could only just breathe. Bruce, still with his arms crossed, watched him silently for a second longer.

Bruce came a little closer, close enough for you to notice the change. He wasn't the same intimidating shadow he'd always been. There was something in his eyes. Something you didn't remember seeing before.

Pride, you could see him happy, you didn't need him to express it.

"And you," he added, looking at you intensely. "You're going to be a great mother."

You froze. Because he didn't say it with emotion. He didn't say it with a smile. But he said it. As if it were a truth he'd always known.

Alfred laughed softly, breaking the tension completely. "It's about time this cave had some life."

They'd waited a week since Bruce found out. Just one. It was Alfred's idea, "Wait until you're ready. And when they say it, do it your way," and you listened to him. It was the most sensible thing to do. They were all there, thanks to a dinner you'd arranged yourself under the guise of a "family reunion." The dinner was simple. Nothing fancy. You and Wally prepared it as if it were just another moment. But deep down, you both knew you were about to cross a line.

"What exactly are we celebrating?" Jason asked, spearing an olive from his plate.

Then you stood up. “There’s something we want to tell you.”

Wally stood up next to you, clearly more nervous than you. Even though you were about to throw up from your nerves.

"We're expecting a baby," you blurted out. No beating around the bush.

The silence was immediate. At first, no one moved. As if the words hadn't finished arriving.

Jason was the first to react. "Excuse me?" He blinked. "Did anyone else hear that, or was my coffee drugged?"

Tim looked up, processing the sentence more slowly than usual. "Pregnant... really? Confirmed? Any tests? Estimated weeks?"

"Yes, Tim," you said, with a mixture of tenderness and nerves. "Confirmed."

Jason looked at you. Then at Wally.

"Wow..." he finally let out, with a dry laugh. "Wow. Do you realize we're going to have a red-haired baby running around here? A mini-Wally."

Bruce stood slowly. He walked over to you. He looked at you, then at Wally. He didn't speak immediately. "Congratulations," he finally said. His voice was firm, serious, but real. A few words, but you felt them like an absolution. A blessing.

And Alfred, from the other end of the table, raised his cup.

"The first grandchild of the Wayne family… I guess I'll have to dust off the crib."

And then, her eyes went to Damian and Dick, the only ones who remained silent. Their arms were crossed, their gaze fixed on an indefinite point.

Damian didn't move. Not a blink. He remained with his arms crossed, his jaw tense, and his gaze fixed on some spot on the tablecloth, as if he were burning it with his mind. The atmosphere had eased after Alfred's comment and Bruce's curt but firm blessing… but the air was still thick. For the two of them.

You looked at them. You didn't say anything. You knew forcing them would only make things worse.

Damian was the first to speak, standing up. He walked over to you. He looked at you for a long second. "Are you happy?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes," you said. And he simply nodded once in response.

“Then okay, I think…” Damian continued, “she’s having a child with you. And that means I’m going to have to… accept it. Because you chose him.” He turned and stopped right in front of Wally. “I swear, if you ever make her cry because of anything other than pregnancy hormones, I’m going to train until I can beat you. And when I do beat you… I’m going to beat your face in.”

"Accepted," Wally replied seriously, slightly inclining his head.

Damian nodded, satisfied, and then hugged you. He hugged you tight. Much tighter than anyone else had that night. "It's going to be hard, he murmured, his chin tucked into your shoulder. "But I'm going to want it too. If it's yours… it's mine too."

You pressed your lips together to keep from breaking. And when he pulled away, everyone's eyes went to the last one missing: Dick.

He was standing. Quiet. With his hands in his pockets. He wasn't looking at you, or at Wally. Just at the ground. As if he needed a few more seconds of air.

"Dick?" you asked softly.

"Now you're going to be a mom, with that stupid Wallace, but I'm happy" then, he hugged you as if it were the last day on earth. "You're going to be amazing, and I hope that baby doesn't look anything like you". he looked at Wally suspiciously, while whispering words that only they could hear between them. "I'm going to kill you, Wallace."

[rhube]

So, this gets into different types of consciousness and what you mean by a 'channel'. For example, in philosophy of mind, we distinguish between 'Awareness' and 'Attention'. The dominant theory (and this matches my experience, but it might not for you) is that you can only *attend* to one thing at a time, but you can be aware of a BUNCH of shit you're not focusing on.

Like, if someone is drilling in the street outside, a lot of people would be able to sort of tune that out (which I guess is a kind of channel analogy, like the way you tune out a channel of radio), so they're not paying attention to it, but it would still be a sound they are hearing and therefore part of their awareness, and if you said, 'Hey, is someone drilling outside?' They'd be like, 'God, yes, it's been going on for hours! It's so annoying.' Which shows that it was a part of their conscious experience, it just wasn't in the forefront of their minds.

So, on one understanding, you might be aware of a bunch of different concerns about going to the park, only attending to one at a time, but flitting back forth between them.

Now, this comes into collision with the problem that a lot of philosophers of mind spend far too much time thinking about their own experience of their own minds, and not asking other people. Or reinterpreting other people's reported experience to fit their model.

I read a lot about introspection for what my supervisor thought was the best chapter of my thesis, and no one I read mentioned aphasia at all.

Eric Schwitzgebel, who has made introspection his Thing, had a giant footnote about a conference he went to where a bunch of experts got together to discuss what exactly you can introspect, and they couldn't even agree something basic, such as whether there is a quality/qualia/what-it's-likeness of thought beyond what is contained in imagery (visual, audio, picturing words etc).

On learning about aphasia and aphantasia, my first thought was: did no one at this conference have these conditions/why didn't you ask THEM?

Of course, it is the habit of philosophers of mind to both rationalise the reports of others to support their own point of view and to question if we have a common understanding of what qualia are (yes, if you're not into these sorts of questions, we're quite annoying to be around). So it might not resolve the question, but it feels like it should be addressed. If I were well enough, I'd be tempted to look up whether there's been scholarship on this, seeing as people are talking about it more, but anyway...

Point is: I see you say you think in different channels at once, and I try to understand it through my own experience, which is as of a whole muddy collection of stuff going on in my head (some conscious, some self-conscious, some subconscious, some unconscious, some moving between those different related states) but there's only ever one thing I'm ATTENDING to.

And this is how I understand it when Occupational Health Therapists tell me I can only ever think about one thing or task at once (which at face value is just false if you have studied minds at all), and when I think I'm multitasking I am in fact context-switching (be proud of me, I have never said to any of their faces, 'Actually, as a philosopher of mind...'). What take them to really mean is that I can only attend to one thing at a time.

This makes sense to me, as although I can listen to music and write and scratch my nose at the same time, I cannot do more than one linguistic task at a time. I cannot SING ALONG to a song and write at the same time, although I am still aware of the song in the background. I have a really strong memory of reading an Anne McCaffrey book where some of the telepaths could hold simultaneous conversations in their heads and just not being able to picture how it would work. And this was when I was in my teenage I Want To Believe phase, so I really did try. It's not possible for me, and I account for it through the attention thing. Linguistic thinking requires attention to formalise the thought in words, and you can only attend to one thing at once.

Based on this, I interpret your description of having 'channels' as really just hopping your attention about between the various miasma of stuff going on in your head (what Kant would call the manifold of intuition), but only ever attending to one thing at a time. It makes sense of the fact that the brain has different subdivisions which, although flexible, are generally devoted to doing different things.

BUT I COULD BE WRONG ABOUT THAT.

The pesky thing about thought and experience is that we aren't telepaths and it isn't communally available. This means our language can't 'triangulate' effectively on the meanings of our words for what is revealed my introspection. If you point at a rabbit and say 'gavagai', I have somewhere to start when it comes to investigating what you mean. You, me, and the rabbit form a triangle that helps me 'locate' your meaning. But you can't point to stuff inside your mind. Despite what science fiction tells us, we can only get rudimentary information about what you're thinking from fMRI scans and the like (at least, so far). So when we're using mental terms to describe what's going on inside, our reference points for potentially shared experiences will always be vaguer. Things like sharp pains are easier than questions about the what-it's-like-ness of thoughts, as it's usually pretty clearly associated with an external object that caused the pain.

To me, it feels like my mind is a swamp of gestating thought and experience, which I can understand as different modules of my meat-based neural net surfacing stuff that requires high-level thought for my conscious attention so I can sort out the stuff that cannot be sorted out by reflex. That makes sense of my experience. I don't believe that anyone thinks in complete and discrete linguistic internal monologues with good sentence structures - aphasia, aphantasia, or otherwise.

But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you really do have distinct, separate channels. Maybe Anne McCaffrey could think about two different linguistic lines of thought at once, and that's why she thought some of her characters could.

Who knows! We haven't really been able to finalise an agreed-upon definition for 'thought' or 'idea' so I dunno how we can hope to start with stuff like this.

Here endeth the ramble.

Thanks for coming to another session of, 'gee, I wish a philosopher of mind didn't follow me'. I will shut up now.

Okay so some people can’t see objects in their imagination and some people don’t think in words and some people hear their thoughts like a voice and others don’t. I get that

But how many distinct channels do most folks have playing at once? cause my normal range is 2-4 and I though that was just what thinking was LIKE but CBD brings that down to just 1

[steddieas-shegoes]

i've got two tickets to iron maiden baby

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'teenage dirtbag'

rated t | 704 words | no cw | tags: corroded boys friendship, college au, first date, steddie getting together

also on ao3

🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

“I’m sorry. You asked who where?” Jeff asks him, pausing his attempts at tuning his guitar. There’s no way he heard what he just heard.

“You heard me,” Eddie groans, covering his face. He’s bright red and clearly embarrassed. “I don’t like your tone.”

“I don’t have a tone!” Jeff says, but he did have a tone. Tone of disbelief, tone of shock, tone of what the fuck is happening.

“Why the fuck did you ask Steve Harrington to that show?” Frankie asks.

“I don’t know!” Eddie exclaims. He’s sitting on the floor of Gareth’s garage, looking more and more like he’s going to curl into a ball and die. “He was there! And he was smiling at me! What else was I gonna do?”

“Smile back? Leave? Growl at him? I dunno!” Jeff laughs. “What did he even say?”

Eddie lays back on the ground, throws his hands up in the air, and puts his thumbs up.

No one says anything for a full minute. Gareth sets his sticks on his snare. Frankie looks between Eddie and Jeff and Gareth, never one to be the first to say something.

“He said yes?” Jeff asks.

Eddie throws up his thumbs again.

“Does he know what he said yes to?” Gareth asks.

“Does he know you’re a fuckin’ weirdo?” Frankie asks.

Eddie’s thumbs change to his middle fingers. “Obviously he knows that. He watched me drop a piece of bread on the ground and yell that I needed to find ducks so it wouldn’t go to waste.”

“Dude.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know how weird I am!” Eddie sits up. “And he said yes because he’s trying new things. His best friend told him he should take more chances.”

“So he agreed to go to a metal show with you. To try new things.”

Jeff cannot actually believe this.

“He did. And I’m gonna show him a good time. And maybe we can even be friends. Or more. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Gareth asks. “I don’t think Harrington’s into dudes.”

“I think you don’t have a clue, man. It’s rude to make assumptions about people,” Eddie says as he sits up. There’s no bite to his words because he knows none of them would actually intentionally be rude about someone’s sexuality, no matter who they are. “And even if he isn’t, he has to know I am, and he seemed pretty chill about it.”

“Can we practice now?” Frankie asks.

Eddie stands up and slings his guitar over his chest. “Yep. I’m normal.”

“Far from it, but okay,” Gareth says before counting them off.

****

“You know, I didn’t think I’d have this much fun,” Steve says as Eddie leads him back to his van. Taking Steve’s car would’ve been more economical, but Eddie kinda wanted to wine and dine him. As much as a broke freshman in college can wine and dine a probably straight guy, at least. “The music was actually okay.”

“I’ll take okay,” Eddie smiles at the ground. Steve’s hand brushes against his as they walk. “There’s some softer bands if you like their style, but not how loud they are.”

“Yeah? Can you show me?” Steve’s fingers brush against his again. It can’t be accidental now.

Eddie should just do it, just grab his hand and twine their fingers together. Maybe Steve will pull away and things will get awkward. Maybe they won’t.

He takes a breath and does it, laces their fingers together as they walk. There’s only a few people ahead of them. He had to park a few blocks away from the venue and most people sprung for the main parking lot.

Steve doesn’t pull away.

He squeezes his hand.

“So?” He asks.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie knows his palm is sweaty, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. His brain is empty of all thoughts.

“Will you show me more music?” Steve laughs.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Anything you want.”

Steve smirks down at the ground. “Anything?”

“You know I’m, like, super gay.”

“I wouldn’t be holding your hand if you weren’t.”

“Okay. So like…you’re?”

Steve laughs. It echoes in the night.

“I’m into you. Is that good enough?”

Eddie feels breathless. “Yeah, that’s great.”

[mili12maisol]

P.S. Русская версия в самом низу. Transferred via DeepL

*looking at my last post * oh. I did a lot. I'll try to tell it short. Let's go.

Tweaking the water for above-ground

I lost a bit of Swerve's animations, but he now floats on the water to the shore (there's a bug though, yes). And also the enemy can swim behind Swerve in the water if chasing him. Also added a small detail that if Swerve was holding Blurr when he fell into the water, he throws Blurr into the water.

Enemies

Added enemy animations. Also added a spike enemy. Started to wonder if I needed an under- and overwater enemy at once. Maybe I'll make the water snake a just water-enemy. Mmmm, I'll think about it some more.

HP system

Blurr and Swerve are now able to take damage from enemies (no damage taking animation yet). They are also able to restore HP via a health kit. If Swerve approaches alone, he only restores to himself. If he is with Blurr, he restores Blurr if he has less HP

Game Over and Main Menu

I added a main menu to the game (simple. Just "Start Game" and "Quit"). I didn't come up with a name for the game. I'm having trouble with that. I also added a simple game over. Probably I'll change it, but for now.

Small bonus. Disappearing Walls

Sometimes there will be buildings that you can enter. And then they'll have a wall disappear so we can see what's inside them. If you switch to another character who is not in the building, the wall will appear. And likewise, if another player was in a different building, the wall will appear in the previous building and will disappear in the new one.

Okay, I tried not to talk too much so it wouldn't get bored. But I have a couple of funny moments below. You don't have to read them. They're just little things that aren't already in the game or will be in the future.

I'll start with the funny things that came before.

The first version of the enemy for ground and water. It was some kind of wild mermaid with a jaw halfway up his head. But I couldn't animate and draw him normally.

2. Blurr used to have two collision. A collision is an area that makes the object and player a physical object rather than a body-less picture. My brain thought that if I made the collision invisible, it would go away. Apparently it doesn't.

There are still a couple of quirks that still work, but I'll fix them:

Blurr can get out of the water and fly into the sky. This is because he can go through collision. I'll fix this, um, later.

When you change a character, the past character freezes. That is, Swerve can freeze in mid-air.

I tried a very long to got a full health kit. And when I got it, my Swerve got stuck in the water and I didn't have time to save him XD

And future plans:

Add save mechanics.

Add a mini game, along the lines of Among Us (that's the first game that came to my mind), while interacting with the generator.

Add the ability to open and close doors (for Swerve)

Make Blurr useful. I think he should be given the ability to move objects underwater. This sounds ridiculous, because Blurr is fast and I'll force him to carry heavy weight

Also I want to practice with procedural generation for another game for the same AU

Aaaaaaaaaand… that's the end of it. I'll see you in… after a while. Idn

*смотрит свой прошлый пост* ох. Я чёт многовато сделала. Постараюсь кратко рассказать. Начинаем.

Доработка воды для наземных

Я немного потеряла анимации Сверва, но он теперь плывёт по воде до берега (правда есть баг, да). А так же враг может плыть за Свервом по воде, если преследует его. Так же добавила маленькую деталь, что если Сверв держал Блёрра, когда упал в воду, то он бросает Блёрра в воду.

Враги

Добавила врагу анимации. Так же добавила врага шипа. Начала сомневаться, а нужен ли был враг сразу подводный и надводный? Возможно, я сделаю водную змею чисто водным врагом. Мммм, я ещё подумаю.

Система HP

Теперь Блёрр и Сверв способны получать урон от врагов (анимации получения урона пока нет). Так же они способны восстановить HP через аптечку. Если Сверв подходит один, то он восстанавливает только себе. Если он с Блёрр, то восстанавливает Блёрру, если у того меньше HP

Экран смерти и Главное меню

Я добавила главное меню в игру (простое. Чисто "Начать игру" и "Выйти"). Я не придумала название игры. У меня с этим проблемы. Так же появился простенький экран смерти. Скорее всего я его изменю, но пока так.

Маленький бонус. Исчезающие стены

Иногда будут попадаться здания, в которые можно будет войти. И тогда у них пропадёт стена, чтобы мы могли видеть, что внутри них. Если переключиться на другого персонажа, который не в здании, то стена снова появится. И так же, если другой игрок был в другом здании, то в прошлом здании появится стена, а в новом пропадёт.

Окей, я старалась не болтать слишком много, чтобы не было скучно. Но у меня есть пара забавных моментов ниже. Вы не обязаны их читать. Это просто мелочи, которые уже не входят в игру или войдут в будущем.

Начну с забавных вещей, которые были раньше. 1. Первые варианты врага для земли и воды. Это был какой-то дикий русал с челюстью на половину головы. Но я не смогла его нормально анимировать и нарисовать.

2. У Блёрра раньше было две коллизии. Коллизия это область, благодаря которой объект и игрок не прозрачная картинка, а физический объект. Мой мозг думал, что если я сделаю коллизию невидимой, то она пропадёт. Очевидно, что нет.

Ещё есть пара приколов, которые до сих пор работают, но я их исправлю: 1. Блёрр может выбраться из воды и полететь в небо. Это из-за того, что он может проходить сквозь коллизию. Я исправлю это, эм, позже. 2. Когда меняешь персонажа, то прошлый персонаж замирает. То есть, Сверв может застыть в воздухе. 3. Я очень долго пыталась получить полную аптечку. А когда получила, то у меня Сверв застрял в воде и я не успела его спасти XD

И планы на будущее: 1. Добавить механику сохранений. 2. Добавить мини игру, по типу из Among Us (это первое, что пришло ко мне в голову), во время взаимодействия с генератором. 3. Добавить возможность открывать и закрывать двери (за Сверва) 4. Сделать Блёрра полезным. Думаю ему дать возможность перемещать объекты под водой. Это звучит смешно, так как Блёрр быстрый, а я его заставлю носить тяжесть

Так же хочу потренироваться с процедурной генерации для другой игры для этого же АУ

Ииииииииииииииии... на этом всё! Увидимся через... какое-то время. Я хз

[bunnwich]

Hey Bunny I love your analysis of dating Leona, so I wanted to know your take/analysis of how he would be as a Spouse and maybe even as a parent.

Much Love! 🦁💛✨️

Leona as a Spouse/Parent

Hi! I’ve been asked the parent question a few times, so let me try to answer it thoroughly! Typical disclaimer that these are just MY opinions and whether or not you decide to make fan kids or not with Leona, is up to you.

As a Spouse:

Leona as a spouse is much like he would be as a partner I think. For Leona, marriage is just the logical next step and if you have chosen him and especially after you share a life together, it's already set in his mind that you are his chosen one.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I don't think Leona enters relationships casually. I think he perhaps had some unattached relations before you BUT I don’t see him as a casual dater at all. He is sensitive, someone who closely guards his feelings and I don’t think he is in the right mind to wanna date or be particularly interested in romance. He let these dreams wither, leaving them behind in those silly romance books he read as a kid in the palace library.

Any relationship he has is purely by serendipity (something else he doesn’t believe in) , he hungers for affection for acceptance but until he finds someone to sate that and—most importantly— someone who makes him feel safe. He would take your relationship very seriously thinking of you as one entity. (We are one and all that.) On the same team. His missing piece.

What a married future looks like with Leona: Cozy, Quiet, Personal

I think he would prefer you both to be separate from palace life. Close enough to satisfy his naggy family, far enough to shield you from the hustle and bustle of the palace life and all the attention that comes with it.

Plus, a place of your own is something that is purely yours and his would mean everything to him. Leona once said in a vignette that a perfect vacation for him would be a quiet hotel where he can rest and do what he wants without the prying eyes of others or any responsibilities. His married life is the same. I can’t see him wanting a super public or traditional marriage. He just wants it all over with so he can just enjoy a simple life with you.

This isn’t how he expected his future to go after all, to be so domesticated, so peaceful. He assumed he’d be a palace brat for the rest of his days so he’ll need a bit of patience to learn how to be “normal.” He doesn't know how to do basic things. Clean, cook for himself. You’ll need to teach him, or if you insist...he’ll go get lessons. (and pay attention this time) He may be lazy, but he’s competitive and he’s not fucking up this husband thing. HE'LL BE THE BEST. He tries but occasionally you’ll catch Ruggie coming over to help him clean.

The house you share is messy but it’s yours. Be prepared to compromise on a few things when it comes to chores and his habits.

One thing you’ll never have to worry about is losing his attention. He’s not afraid to let you know how much he ADORES you. Whether it’s pestering you to pay attention to “your Lion” or refusing to take his hand off your leg when you guys are driving around. You’ve given him the happy ending he’d never expected to have and he’ll spend the rest of his life repaying you for that.

He’ll still be Leona, ofc. Moody, a big grump. He’s sweet behind your closed doors but I can see him hesitate to leave your shared sanctuary. Sure, whatever. He’ll go to that party you wanna go to, or take you wherever you want. Whatever you like, just expect the usual Leona sass.  HE'LL GO; BUT HE'S COMPLAINING THE WHOLE TIME. And yes, he’ll still struggle with his mental health somedays, and that of course affects his motivation but...at least he’s got you to help him through it.

And you bet when you're having your bad days, he's just as attentive to you. He’ll spend the day in bed with you if that's what you need. Talk you through it. Praise you. Hold you. Take you to Sunset Savanna hot springs. Read to you. Whatever gets you back on track. BE WARNED. He considers you talking bad about yourself a personal offense so prepare for some gentle teasing or even some love bites.

Leona is a VERY simple guy in terms of day-to-day life. He likes his leisure time, good food, and most of all, his time with you. After work, he enjoys quiet reading and chess games, maybe yapping about work or history to you. He’s a good listener. Talking shit about the person who pissed you off at work? He's ready to talk shit about them too. Leona is a homebody and often wonders if he’s too boring for you, because the perfect night to him will always be a quiet one with you by his side, in your messy, shared bed, with way too many pillows.

As far as “work” for Leona I can see a few paths: and teacher, Spelldrive coach. Establishing community centers in smaller towns etc. Or similar to his internship working to harness the ways the natural resources of the country can benefit its common people. If he does do political work I see him doing his best to stay away from the palace.

For some reason I can’t see the house ever being too quiet. I like to think he still keeps ties to Ruggie and as Cheka becomes a teen he’ll grow even closer to his "cool" Uncle Leona and his partner.

Morning cuddles are especially dangerous with Leona as husband, he makes you or himself late almost everyday.

Having Children:

So, we hear from Leona VERY often he doesn't like children and there's really no reason in this instance to doubt his words. CLEARLY he doesn't hate them since he goes out of his way to care for his underclassmen, (Leona tends to refer to students under him who are not 3rd year “kids”) and I believe he sees them that way.

Now Leona being Leona his “child-hate” could be more facetious than he lets on. While I do think while he is fond on his younger classmates there's no reason to think he likes little kids too. He's grumpy, he's dry and a logical person. I think he means it. Does he hate Cheka? No, of course not. But does he want one of his own?

Short answer is: I don’t think so.

Taking his mental health and ambitions into consideration I can't see him purposely entering into a relationship with the intent of children. He seems like the type to settle with a partner to want to enjoy his freedom and quiet life with them as I discussed above. 

But let's play devil's advocate! Despite what I see people interpret about him and his work ethic, Leona has a lot of responsibilities. He knows how to show up.

He’s the captain of the Spelldrive club and a dorm leader, and he participates in additional training in the morning for Spelldrive. He knows when to put effort in and is good balancing these things with a nonchalant attitude. It’s easy to see that Leona has the “begrudging big brother” trope written all over him.

And despite his lazy tendencies, he puts hard work into the things actually cares about. AKA his club activities and his underclassmen. Cater in a vignette pointed out that Leona’s dorm members always gush about what a great senpai he is.

SO-

Taking all that into account, I don’t thing Leona would be a BAD parent however he is very spoiled, self-interested and can be harsh at times. The difference between a child and a partner with Leona is maturity, and the fact he benefits from a partner. He gets support etc, an EQUAL. A child offers him no "benefits" and relies all on him. I think he would love a child obviously, but I can only see if it was an accidental circumstance that brought the child into being, or maybe there is another situation where he has no choice.

Leona is a creature of comfort and leisure. Therefore I can not see him wanting a bunch of kids running around? Despite what he might be pressured to do by a partner or his family. Since Cheka exists, I can't see there see being as MUCH pressure to have kids for heirs but who knows? We know Leona is as non-traditional as they come and rebels at the ideas pushed onto him by his family anyways. PLUS being based on Scar this is BAKED so much into his character. He's unc, you know?

But, let's say things happen and he finds himself with a child. (And I think he’s only want one.)

If his partner is AFAB, I can see the idea of pregnancy terrifying him. He might even take a stoic approach to the child before it comes, prioritizing the health of his partner before anything else. It's just how his mind works. Nothing good ever happens to him right? He doesn't show it but he's worried sick the whole time, making sure you have the best doctors and you don’t so much raise a finger.

With adoption, I suppose it would be different. I think it would take him a while to warm up to the child, but as soon as he gets a whiff that this creature relies on him, he loves them. They need him. And then, he might see the unseen rewards of being a parent?

So, I think he could be a good dad, I just don't see him seeking this out.

As a person with trauma I always hear the biggest fear is passing that said trauma onto a kid, Leona being such a self-aware person, I think he would fear this above all. He doesn’t wanna fuck 'em up, you know?

For this reason, like I mentioned, I can only see him wanting one child, so he can ensure they never have anyone they're compared to.

I do believe in #girldad Leona just because it sounds cute! I can see him sitting there having a tea party while getting his hair braided. It's different when it's your own right?

He can be too stern sometimes, just like with his S/O. He wants the best for them! But, they would never feel like they disappointed him. It’s more about getting them to understand what they have to do to make it in this unfair world. He’s not sheltering them. He saw what that shit did to him, though old habits die hard. I can totally see him pawning the kid off when he's overwhelmed. He'd rather them spend time away sometimes, than be around him when he’s not at his best.

Just like he’d fear being unsatisfactory partner, he'd fear being a bad dad, and I think he would confess this to his partner. He may not be perfect when their small and noisy but as they get older he’ll discover better ways to bond with them. By teaching them, reading to them. He'd do his best. And despite his best efforts...I think he’d end up spoiling that damn child. Despite what Leona thinks he has a lot of love to give! I think so anyways.

Anyways those are my thoughts!

[kaidoslastbraincell]

'they drown out the voices...' (part 2) / baby saja x HUNTRIX!reader

part 1 here, part 3

tag list: @rolly-polly-molly @airwolf92

KPDH MASTERLIST HERE

content warnings? mentions of therapy and burnout.

Credit to @tiger-lilee-5 for the concept💜 first show of your joint tour and you are completely spent by the end of it...thankfully you have your personal demon-shaped charger on hand <3

pairings: baby x HUNTRIX!reader (a little? more towards the end)

You loved what you did; there was no doubt about it. Every performance got 110%. You were pleasant to your fans. And creating music was your passion. There was nothing quite like having the words you came up with sung right back to you by an audience of thousands. But it was exhausting. You had a lower social battery than the others and could only manage so much. That was one of the many reasons you loved the girls — they took on what you couldn't.

The first show of your joint tour with the Saja Boys had just come to a close and as usual, you were the first off the stage. Bobby handed you your headphones with a soft smile the second you got backstage, and you patted his shoulder in thanks before an assistant helped you into your robe. That was one thing you could never get used to...the assistants. Another handed you an energy drink. A third passed you a snack. It made your skin itch. Did they think you were stuck up? You knew where everything was...you could take care of yourself. Did they enjoy waiting on you and the others? It seemed like they did. They were always excited to see you at the end of every show. Your intern P.A shuffled over, a shy smile on her lips. You offered her one in return. Pulling your headphones down to rest around your neck, you gave her your full attention. She always liked to chat a bit, and despite being tired, you liked her enough to entertain her questions.

"These came for you," she grinned, holding up a stack of fan mail and a small pile of gifts.

"Thank you." You took the snacks from the pile, stuffing them into the pockets of your robe. "Can you have them dropped at the apartment for me, please?"

"Of course!"

"Oh and Jae!"

She stopped midstep and turned to face you again.

"Take the rest of the day off. It's been a long day, and it's only going to get longer this month. Get some rest."

"Thank you...y/n." You could tell it pained her to call you by name, but you'd asked her to, complaining that being called "ma'am" or "miss" made you feel old. "You be sure to rest up too."

As you passed her, you gently ruffled her hair before putting your headphones back on and sticking a lollipop between your teeth.

You changed into comfy clothes before waiting for everyone else to gather by the back entrance of the stadium. Bobby was the first to greet you again. He grinned with an encouraging pat on your shoulder. You returned his smile with a tired one of your own.

"You did great, y/n!"

Nodding, you removed your headphones, slumping against the wall beside him and leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Thanks. The others performed better, though...I wasn't at my best."

"I can guarantee you're the only one who thinks that," he replied.

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were next to arrive.

"Brilliant job, as always, everyone!" Our manager cheered, jostling your head.

"Thanks, Bobby!" The others cheered too.

"Jinu said they'll meet us at our apartment," Rumi said as she tapped away on her phone, "they have to go over some things with their manager."

You frowned. All you wanted right now was a nap and a hug from Baby.

When the 5 of you arrived at the apartment, the first thing you did was fall face-first onto the sofa and curl up under your weighted blanket. Turning the volume of your headphones up as high as it would go, you pulled the blanket up so just your tightly shut eyes were visible. The girls watched you worriedly as Bobby scrolled through your personal calendar.

"She's not usually this out of it after a show," he muttered as he tried to find the date of your last therapy session.

"She has been working harder than anyone else for this tour...it's no wonder she's burning out," Mira frowned.

"I can hear you. And I'm fine," you muttered.

"No, you're not." Rumi's voice was stern. "You need a break. We all do."

"Have you forgotten that we've only just started a tour?" You narrowed your eyes at her.

She sighed. You were right. No one would be taking a break until this was over and the Honmoon was sealed... preferably with your boys safely on the human side.

Bobby disappeared into his office to make your appointments. Rumi and Mira wandered into the kitchen to get you some more snacks and some tea. And Zoey...Zoey decided to act as a second weighted blanket and flopped on top of you. The extra weight was nice. You freed a hand from the blanket for her to hold, and she linked her fingers through yours.

"Everything will be okay," she smiled, "we'll make sure of it."

You nodded. "Thanks, Zo."

When the boys finally entered the apartment, they were greeted with Rumi and Mira fussing around your sleeping form, and Zoey pleasantly cutting off your blood circulation.

"What's going on?" Jinu frowned.

Upon closer inspection, all of the men could see that, even in your sleep, your brow was pinched.

"Y/n care," Zoey whispered as she scrolled through her phone with her free hand.

"Is she okay?" Mystery mumbled.

Despite being closest to Baby, they all cared for you a lot.

"She's just burnt out. And she's been cancelling her therapy sessions for tour prep without Bobby knowing. Without any of us knowing," Rumi muttered in frustration.

Jinu sighed. Mystery flinched. And Baby? Baby rolled his eyes. Typical. The green-haired boy walked over to you, shooing Zoey away. When she tried to move, your hand tightened around hers.

"Where are you going?" You groaned, waking up.

Baby winced at the volume of the music blasting through your headphones.

"The boys are here," Zoey whispered, carefully removing herself from you.

You sat up with a stretch and rubbed your eyes.

"Oh, hey."

Baby sat where your head had just been, tossing the cushion onto the floor.

"Don't 'hey' me. Go back to sleep, dumbass."

You didn't need any convincing as you settled your head on his lap, an arm hanging over the side of the sofa. His fingers brushed through your hair as he played a game on his phone. It was easier to relax at home, but it was even easier when Baby was there. Mystery shuffled over, sitting on the floor beside you, and the arm that had been dangling over the edge shifted to drape over the grey-haired boy's shoulder. Baby frowned, resisting the urge to growl at his bandmate as he played with the rings on your fingers.

Everyone knew you saw each other as siblings more than anything else.

That didn't mean the rapper who'd been crushing on you for months had to like it, though.

Several hours had passed before you finally woke again, and when you did, you were no longer on the sofa. Instead, you were in your bed. It was dark, aside from the soft shifting glow of your galaxy lamp in the far corner. A weight around your waist drew your attention to your side. Baby was sleeping beside you, holding you close to his chest as he rested in his demon form. Your fingers carefully traced the patterns on his cheeks and neck. The coolness of his skin was comforting. His eyes fluttered at the contact before opening, vibrant gold meeting yours.

"Go back to sleep," he muttered tiredly, "I've got you."

[the-tarot-witch22]

18+ Messages from your future spouse - pick a pile

Note : There will be intense sexual messages, explicit language, sensitive topics. So, if you get triggered easily about such topics, then kindly dont read this pac.

Pile 1/ Pile 2

My Paid Readings | My College Fund Post | My July Offers

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1

(The cards I got for you - 2 of cups, the tower, 9 of cups)

Okay, so Pile 1! Damn your future spouse is wild lmao, and VERY MASCULINE okay so let me channel! I am getting messages so excited omg.

My wife,

Let me be straight with you, I want you on your fucking knees, i want to fuck that pretty little throat of yours, to see how well it takes me. You see, you pull this side out of me, like the darkness I didnt know existed in me before you, and damn i would be damned if someone did. Because no one is you. Fuck, your soft voice turns me on so much, do you know how hard I get just thinking of your small gasps and moans when I finally thrust into you? This part of me is sacred and for you, I feel the urge to fuck you in front of someone who is eyeing you thinking they can have you, but my wife they wont, no one can. Because your whole body is made to be worshipped by me, and I would PROUDLY go on knees for you, I wanna be rough with you, my hands, your throat, while you scream my name and the whole neighbourhood knows, you are being worshipped like you deserve. My wife you are my dream come true. I wanna pleasure you so bad , so you can't walk straight for days. I want to suck that attitude right out of you. And slap that dirty little pussy for making me wait. Fuck, is it hot in here? Or it's just my wife!? It's you. I know. I wanna torture, you with orgasms , just when you are at edge I wanna stop, to listen you whine. It's you who I want and if you ever doubt me. I will go to lengths my wife. Do you wanna know my fantasy? I have this urge to fuck you in front of mirror, to show you, how well , you look how perfect you look taking me... sweetheart, if i say more i would just miss you, so I am stopping here. Though know , what I feel isn't only need to worship you but to love your soul too.

Until we meet.

Woah, Pile 1, he had a lot to say, all i will say is GOOD LUCK TO YOU! hehe

Pile 2

(The cards I got for you - 9 of cups, page of cups, page of swords, and knight of cups)

Oh dear, Pile 2 your future spouse is SOFT like golden retriever, their energy is like very goofy lmao, they seems to be a switch in bed, very balanced fem and masc energy. I also wanna add your future spouse or you could be virgins or if not then one of you is. One thing to add I am channeling a scene where they are slowly covering the distance between you and them and kisses you deeply! Also so many cups energy very emotionally charged messages.

Anyhow! I will start now, hearing messages.

Hey trouble,

So what's my lil, trouble doing right now, are they missing me? I am, you know I am looking at my ceiling right now, imaging you on top of me, you laying on my chest while I rub circles on your back, my heart beat increases and you look at me not saying anything just blinking those doe eyes, i want to hold the nape of your neck when I finally nibble on your lips. Holy even imagining the sounds you will make is turning me on. I want to show you that I am a gentleman but honestly you make it hard. Every. Damn. Time. "Let me taste your, sweet pussy", there i said it, are you feeling shy yet? Because if not I just need to try harder. "You are my wildest dream, and I would never have it any other way" because "baby, it's been you from the very start", "I wanna make it as gentle for you, it's your first with me... isn't it?" "If not, i will make you forget every person who ever touched you". "My love, i crave your soul as much as I crave that sweet little pussy of yours". "Let me gently bite those nipples, mhm, even thinking is fucking hot", "Don't torture me with such distance, i can't take it", "my love, wait for me", sometimes all i wish is to show you how much I need you. But sometimes all I want is to be gentle with your body, as if it might break. Let me taste you once, make you feel good. "It's hard, like this, eternal punishment", "let me have you baby, you won't regret me". But now all i can do is imagine you , see you in my dreams, love.

Love you,

Yours always.

Damn Pile 2, your future spouse is sweet as fuck, good for you loves.

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies: when they finally meet each other

you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. and although it can get overwhelming at times, you’ve done well to keep each and every relationship relatively separate, no matter how demanding of your attention they are. well, that all goes to shit when they’re all attending the same fucking party.  

tw: nsfw, dark content

you’re fucked. 

“is something wrong, dear?” ayato inquires. you do your best to put on your prettiest smile, smooth down your dress like nothing’s wrong, and squeeze his hand to reassure him that everything is a-okay.

“i’m fine. feeling a bit under the weather, is all.” 

everything is not a-okay. underneath your jewel-encrusted gown you are trembling. kaeya shouldn’t even be here, you think. but there he is, chatting up some local politician that ayato had introduced you to earlier. it takes everything in you not to suggest leaving the gala when you had just arrived an hour ago.

ayato smiles, pressing a chaste kiss between your brows. “alright.”

home. just a couple weeks ago, ayato has begun to change his vocabulary. he says ‘ours’ instead of ‘my’ and ‘we’ instead of ‘me.’ every time you take off your new diamond-encrusted ring, he gives you a look you can’t stomach and glides it back onto your finger whenever he gets the chance. he’ll kiss you sweetly like nothing’s wrong but from the way his hand lingers on your ring finger says otherwise. 

“i wish i could take you home right now,” ayato laments, taking your hand in his and slowly caressing the back of your knuckles like a lover would. “but you know how things are. publicity is half of the job.”

that’s why we entered this kind of relationship in the first place. you purse your lips. it was supposed to be contractual, nothing more.

ayato’s whispers of sweet-nothings into your ear contrasts your thoughts. he tells you how beautiful you look, how your cerulean gown matches his suit, about how he’ll take it off when you get back, all the while he’s navigating you through the crowds of people. his hand rests gently on the small of your back, as if it was his way of soothing you. 

you’re fine, you tell yourself. there’s too many people here. kaeya won’t see you. you dread the idea of locking eyes with him, the dark scowl that’d spread on his lips, if you had the misfortune of seeing him again tonight. he might’ve known that you had other clients, but if he met them in person, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it. 

“are you sure you’re fine?” ayato asks softly. he brushes a stray strand of hair away form your face. he presses his lips to your cheek like it belongs there.

a frank ‘no,’ dances on the tip of your tongue. your survival instincts are screaming at you, begging you to call off this entire thing. you want to go home. you want to tell him no, you’re not fine. but if you do, ayato would most likely take you home. not your home. but home. and as much as you wanted to escape, you knew being in a room alone with this man who stared at you as if you were is one and only was even worse. 

so you don’t. you do what you practiced. you stare into this man’s eyes and smile like you mean it. you kiss him on the lips, to which he reciprocates eagerly, and tell him, “i told you, i’m okay.” 

the way ayato smiles is devious. he smoothly hooks his hand around your waist and guides you to the center of the ballroom. try as you might, you can feel the envious gazes burning into your skin. towards you or ayato, you’re not sure, but you don’t want to think about it further.

ayato, it seems, doesn’t mind. his hold on you becomes all the more tighter, confident.  

the two of you are once again talking to one of ayato’s associates. you’ve seen this man at other social events here and there, but you’ve never talked to him personally. 

you shudder at the way he eyes you up. 

“oh, you must be the rumored miss ayato seemingly can’t stop talking about,” the man surmises. he stares into his glass of wine before taking a greedy gulp. “ayato has never talked about a woman so fondly, so i figured you must’ve been really special. now that i’ve finally been introduced to you, i can see i was right.”

you open your mouth to retort, but ayato beats you to it. 

his nails are practically digging into your bodice. “yes, this is my fiance,” he hisses. you don’t appreciate how much emphasis he puts into his words. you almost want to correct him, but you don’t, because this is what you’re paid for: to ward off potential marriage proposals. so sure, you’ll let this one slide, as long as he says nothing about it in private.

the man, seemingly oblivious to ayato’s rising anger, smiles. “ah, so you’ve finally put a ring on it? what a pity.” 

“i can hardly say it’s a pity,” ayato mutters. “we’ve been together for a very long time, it was only a matter of time. if anything, it seems as if you’re trying to make a pass.” 

ayato’s associate jumps at his tone. “oh,  no, that wasn’t my intention...”

his words start to melt into the background noise, the music, the meaningless chatter. you smile awkwardly, knowing that if you tried to handle things yourself ayato would only take over for you. so instead, you stand there and look pretty, trying to not draw any more attention than you should. 

instead, you opt to observe the room. between the crowds of mingling elites, you’re desperate to find out where kaeya had gone. was he close? was he far? did he leave? did he see you? 

your stomach flips at the mere thought. at the very beginning, kaeya was fun. casual. he was friendly but not invasive. he’d flirt with you and mean it, but you knew his attraction to you didn’t extend beyond the bedroom. at least, that’s what you thought. before you knew it, kaeya had grown so attached to you it were as if you were his second heart, as if he wanted to meld you into his skin and whisper all of his thoughts and praises. 

if he discovered you here with someone else, you don’t know what would happen. 

in the midst of your discreet search, you catch a familiar glimpse of someone else in the crowd. you usually see him in his work attire when it’s designated day, but today he’s donned on an emerald suit, decorated with gold embellishments.

your heart drops to the pit of your stomach when alhaitham’s gaze sweeps across the crowd, as if he’s looking for something too. to his right, tighnari matches his pace. they seem to be in some sort of conversation, mumbling to each other over glasses of champagne as the crowd moves forward.  they live on the opposite side of the city. what are they doing here? you were so sure that this event would only be attend by those with business in the inazuma district. what went wrong? 

you’re just about to look away when it happens. 

alhaitham looks back.

it’s like a bucket of ice has been poured over you. 

his stare goes from surprise, to confusion, to realization, to absolute anger.

you don’t forget how ayato’s hand rests comfortably on your waist. alhaitham’s eyes seemed to be pinned there, like he’s undressing you with his eyes, burning holes into every pore of ayato’s hand. 

you’re caught like a deer in headlights. tightnari’s trying to talk to him, but alhaitham ignores him entirely. his entire focus, his entire being, is locked onto you. you don’t know what to do at this point.

ayato’s tight grip loosens. without even realizing it you’re being guided away from the conversation. 

“i’m so sorry about that,” ayato murmurs as he wraps both hands around your waist. he presses into you, his nose finding its way inbetween your neck and your shoulder. 

you’re entire body freezes as alhaitham’s gaze drags up your hips to your neck. for a second, his eyes catch yours and he gives you this look as if to say, i’m going to kill him. 

“ayato, we’re in public,” you say as you gently press onto his shoulders. you hope that he can’t feel the way your fingers tremble.

“let them see,” he replies with a breathy exhale. “that way, no one ever tries anything with you again. besides, is it wrong for two lovers to express their love in public? especially so soon after being engaged.”

this is wrong. the ayato you knew when you first met didn’t like drawing attention to himself. he’d rather sit in the shadows and people watch rather than become the spectacle himself. and of all things, at the worst time. 

you feel as if ayato is unknowingly digging your grave. every time ayato moves so much as a milimeter closer to you, you can see alhaitham’s jaw clench just a little tighter. 

at this point, tighnari has caught on to what alhaitham has been so distracted by. tighnari doesn’t hesitate to size you up. the both of you. for a moment, his ears pull back. he’s threatened. 

“my dear?”

you’re attention whips back to ayato. his gaze is almost intense as alhaitham’s and tighnari’s. it’s full of love, adoration, and obsession. he looks at you like you’re the one for him. that he had just discovered you two were soulmates. but you’re not. 

you smile, even though you feel like turning your stomach inside out. you have to pretend that you’re fine. and you’re good at that, right? you’re good at pretending to be what these men want, which is convenient, emotionally available, and loving. even though you’re entire world, everything you’ve worked so hard to maintain, is falling apart right this moment, you will smile. because that’s your job, isn’t it? you’re good at giving what your customers need. you’re good at your job.

so you keep your voice nice and light, even though you’re words are anything but what ayato wants to hear. “but we aren’t engaged, though.” 

he hums, nuzzling deeper into your skin. “but we are, aren’t we? my ring is on your finger.” his fingers thrum against your hips. “did you know? my name’s engraved on the inside.”

as much as ayato’s words alarm you, your entire focus is locked onto alhaitham and tighnari, who look livid. their mouths are moving. the two of them are speaking to each other, and it kills you not to know what they’re saying. 

just before you can get away from ayato, they make their way towards you. 

their pace is slow, but intentional. their gazes don’t dare pry away from you.  

and just like that, it all becomes too much. 

“i have to go to the bathroom,” you blurt out. with some kind of newfound adrenaline, you manage to push ayato off of you. he gives you a look of hurt, confusion, anger, and absolute shock. “i’ll be right back.”

ayato’s clearly confused, but as he attempts to reach out to you, you blend yourself within the throng of people. without looking back, you disappear into the crowd, leaving ayato all by his lonesome. 

you’re quick to push through the crowds, but careful to avoid the other ticking time bombs in the room. you feel as if you’re being chased. and in reality, you are. you zigzag through different conversations, hoping to miraculously become invisible. and yet, despite your absolute care, you somehow step on your own minefield. 

you hear the sound of your name first.

you see him second. 

childe’s standing there, in a suit you’ve never seen him wear before. 

is everyone at this party? 

“i thought it was you, looking so pretty. are you all dressed for me?” 

you both know what the answer is, and yet you don’t say anything. 

childe chuckles. “why do you look so scared? you look like you’ve just been caught cheating.” 

he slowly slides his hand down your arm, almost sensually. his fingers interlock with yours before he’s swinging it playfully, but you know his mood is anything but. he’s staring at your interlocking hands so intently. you look down to realize that he’s staring at the ring ayato put on your finger. 

shit. 

childe doesn’t say anything. he simply kisses your hand all prince-like, his gaze meeting yours. he’s so calm it’s disturbing. 

“whoever got this for you has bad taste. i bet he just chose whatever ring had the biggest jewel, right?” he plays with your fingers dismissively, gentlely drawing patterns around your ring finger. “you always told me i couldn’t buy you a ring, and yet this fucker can. what’s so different? i bet he just thinks whatever is biggest is the prettiest. but truth is, it’ll never be pretty. it’ll never be my special kind of pretty, isn’t that right, girlie?” 

you’re tempted to curl into yourself, but you hold your ground. 

“let go, childe.”

“and let you run away from me to some other man who doesn’t know you as well as i do? hmm? he uses his hold on your hand as leverage to pull you closer to him. his other hand wraps itself around your torso, pressing you into him. you struggle to escape, but you can’t. to anyone else, you two would’ve looked to be in a lover’s embrace. he caresses your cheek, as if appraising you. “maybe i should leave my own mark on you. maybe that’ll show everyone who you really belong to.”

you wriggle in his grasp. “childe, i’m serious. stop—”

“hmm, at least your next is exposed. yes… i think a hickey here would be nice—”

“childe! what are you up to this time?” 

childe immediately pulls away to reveal a man smiling amicably at the two of you. a pair of silver frames rest on his nose.

“ah, pantalone.” childe replies. “it’s nothing.”

you don’t hesitate to use this opportunity to escape. the moment you can, you whisk yourself away. you don’t care for niceties at this point. instead, you find refuge in the ladies’ restroom. 

you lock yourself in one of the stalls, grateful that no one else is in there. with no one around to stare, observe, or judge you, you close the toilet seat and plop onto it unceremoniously with your head in your hands. 

at this point, everything is spinning. your heart is thumping at thousands of miles per minute, and you’re trying to get a grip on reality. you think about the bills you need to pay, your overwhelming debt, and the life that rests on your hands. you think about all the things you need to do, and all the things you can’t do, not by yourself.

you need money to survive. 

once you’ve properly calmed down, you take a deep breath and open the door. you look at yourself in the mirror, taking note of all the little details in your makeup and your outfit, all of which were made by ayato, for ayato. all dressed in light blues, you look like you belong to the kamisato clan. 

you look like ayato’s wife.

“you look wonderful in blue.”

you don’t have the time to turn before he’s on you. 

if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought that kaeya had returned to his old self. he’s kissing you like he hates the space between you. his mouth is hot and tastes of alcohol. his hands find their place on your hips like it’s natural. 

you can’t breathe, with the way he kisses you. 

underneath his heated movements, there’s a underlying desperation. like kaeya somehow needs to overdose on your every breath to survive. his hands are all over you, rumpling the dress you tried so hard to smooth out. 

he pushes the two of you into one of the open stalls, smoothly locking it behind him. you’re pressed against the bathroom door, a hardness pressing into your abdomen.

“kaeya—” 

your words are immediately swallowed up by his mouth. he can’t be bothered to speak to you. you can feel how angry he his with his fingers dig into your skin. he just wants to kiss you senseless, is that so wrong?

his tongue runs over yours. he’s exploring your mouth like it’s a treasure trove. as if this his first time ever kissing you and he wants to learn what makes you tick. 

but really, you can’t breathe. 

“kaeya—”

he pulls away from you like it’s the most painful thing he’s done. and it’s then you meet his eyes for the first time that night. his gaze is vulnerable. it’s obsessive, and needy, and desperate, and too, too much. too emotional. it’s not what you signed up for, and it’s not what he promised you. 

but he doesn’t care about that right now. he nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent like it’s his drug. 

“i saw you. with him.” 

“who?” comes out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 

“i saw you the moment you got here,” kaeya replies, ignoring your question. “do you know how hurt i felt? how much i wanted to just strangle him? i could do it, you know. i could stage it like it was an accident. or make it look like he was a danger to the people. no one would know.”

you knew kaeya was a ticking time bomb, but you’ve never seen him like this. 

he wraps himself around you and pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. “you’d still love me, if i did that, right? you know everything about me, everything no one else knows. only you could love me.”

there’s a crazed look to him. he’s so out of it, you’re hesitant to touch him. his embrace steals the breathe out of your lungs, quite literally. he holds onto you like if he let up for just a second you’d disappear into thin air. 

“kaeya—”

he kisses you again, a small moan leaving his lips. “say my name again, please. say it like it’s yours. i’m all yours.”

you run your hand through his hair and pull, but he only groans in response. you can feel his hard-on grinding into you. a whimper escapes you as he brushes against your clit through the dress.

if it’s not his name, kaeya’s bent on not letting you speak. his kisses keep getting more insistent, more greedy. 

you run your hand through his hair and give it a hard tug.

“aagh—just like that.”

you’re out of options at this point. kaeya won’t pull away, so eager to breathe you in. 

kaeya’s too lost in you to notice your hand blindly grabbing at the bathroom’s lock. when the door opens, it creates enough momentum to seperate the two of you. kaeya’s taken off guard, so you take the chance to bolt it out of there and escape back into the crowd.

you just want to run away from everything. from these disastrous men. from these claustrophobic parties. from this entire situation. from all your problems. your debt. from small, tiny hospital rooms and endless nights praying for a miracle—

you don’t care what you look like at this point. you don’t care that your dress is in disarray, that tears are probably streaking down your face, or that you’re so out of breath you’re gulping down air like it’s water. 

fuck this. 

fuck that.

fuck everything.

you’re so focused on escaping you bump shoulders with a stranger. quite roughly, at that. 

diluc looks surprised. he appraises you concerningly, but you can’t stomach it. his gaze is so full of love and adoration and possessiveness you think you’re going to hurl. 

you don’t even say anything. when you see kaeya chasing after you, you book it. you don’t even text ayato you’re leaving. you just…disappear.

the hospital room’s quiet. it always is. save for the occasional nurse, no one else is here, save for the patient. 

in a way, this room is your escape.

you’re still in ayato’s dress. it’s a bit dirty from tonight’s events, a bit ruffled. you look like a victim in those crime TV shows with a shock blanket. 

right now, you’re curled up on the sofa, staring into nothingness. you don’t want to think of anything right now. there’s no point in saying anything. you know she won’t say anything back. 

what would she say if she were here right now? 

she’d scold you, for sure. she’d nag you for how messy your apartment was. how you dropped out of college when you promised her you’d pursue your dream. how you haven’t once visited your parents’ grave. how you sold your mind, body, and soul just for some few bucks. 

you crumble at the thought. oh, how much money it took to keep her alive. to hide the both of you away from them. to keep sniffing dogs off your trail. you could always move away, hop from place to place. but if you did, what would you do about her? 

your sister was like a second mother to you. how could you abandon her like that? 

the door opens so abruptly, you practically jump out of your skin. 

“kazu?”

“i knew you’d be here.”

somewhere down the line, you heard that kazuha had descended from a long line of honorable samurais. seeing him like this, appearing out of thin air as if he was there all along, you thought it could be true.

kazuha enters the room like a soft gentle breeze, like it’s a suggestion. 

you’re speechless. 

he sits next to you on the couch and presses the side of your head to lean onto his shoulder. the two of you look at your comatosed sister together, as if if you stared hard enough, she’d finally wake up. 

“it’s going to be okay,” kazuha whispers.

“how did you know i was here?”

“what do you mean?” he turns to kiss the crown of your head so tenderly. “i’ll always be there for you, don’t you know that?”

your blood runs cold. you pull away to look at him. “kazuha, i never told you where i was. no one knows about this hospital.”

he looks at you earnestly, as if you don’t know any better and he adores it.

“but i do,” he says. 

[kaalwanan]

💿 — those eyes

the small things he does. (feat. s.itoshi, r.itoshi, m.bachira, k.yukimiya, and r.mikage)

sae itoshi always noticed when little things changed with you. the changes never went unmentioned by him, whether it was your nails, your cooking, or something as simple as your mood. he always made sure he acknowledged the change— it was his way of reminding you that he saw you. for example, last week...

"i would never concern myself with such asinine matters," you murmur, pretending to be posh. you were on the phone with a friend, and sae was sitting in the living room, reading something on his phone. hearing your tone, he lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

"asinine? that's a new word for you. did you start reading a new book?" your friend can hear his comment, and she laughs when she hears you scoff at him.

or yesterday afternoon:

"that top looks good on you. don't know why you waited so long to wear it." he set down his phone, giving you his undivided attention. 

he was kinda right— you had bought this top about a month ago. it had been sitting in the shopping bag in your room this entire time.

laughing a little, you smooth out the top, muttering a "thank you."

but there was one other thing he would always do, and that was guide you to walk ahead. a hand to your lower back as he lightly nudged you to walk in front of him. 

he mostly did it to make sure nothing happened outside of his sight, but he secretly got a kick out of how flustered it would make you sometimes.

he'd occasionally lean down when he was leading you to walk ahead, mumbling, "walk in front. it's crowded here." when you smile a little, your heart stuttering at him speaking lowly and placing a hand on your back, he pulls away with a light squeeze of your hip.

oh, how he loved getting reactions out of you.

rin itoshi was a good listener, especially for you. so whenever you were on the verge of tears, he would just lightly tug you closer and let you continue what you were saying.

"i'm just so... frustrated with it all." you laugh, the strangled kind that comes out when you're holding back tears. your eyes and throat burned.

rin nods slightly, gently grabbing your wrist. he presses a small kiss to your palm, and he pulls you a little closer to him so you can lean on him. "yeah?"

he never told you not to cry, only wiping away the tears as they fell. simply sitting with you felt right to him. 

one more thing that rin always did was write notes to you; if not notes, he would send you "i know you're asleep, but..." texts. his words were usually a little bit more terse, but his love always showed through what he wrote for you. you always saved them. often, they were used as little bookmarks, too.

written sunday, june 29th, 2025: good morning, sorry for leaving while you're still asleep. i have training this morning. i hope you slept well. i'll be back around 1:00, and i'll bring some food for both of us. if you're craving anything specific, call me. i'll grab it.                                                        love you,                                                      rin

message sent at 02:47, tuesday, july 1st, 2025: hi i know you're asleep right now, but i just wanted to say i love you. i'm really lucky to have you. sleep well.

written today, july 9th, 2025: hey, good afternoon. sorry i couldn't be home when you were coming back from your training today. tell me how everything went once i get home. i'll be there around 30 minutes after you arrive, i think. i'll be back with some dinner.                                                         love you,                                                      rin

^^ he also brought you flowers once he got back home. he wanted to give you something to commemorate the start of your training for work, so he got a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a surprise.

he was the sweetest, always doing these things for you.

meguru bachira would always think of you when he was out, whether he was going out solely for food or if he was abroad, preparing for a match.

this was made obvious when meguru seemed to constantly come back home with a new item or little trinket for you. everything seemed to remind him of you.

the two things he always seemed to get for you were sanrio blind boxes and keychains. meguru would constantly see your shelves lined with little figures from blind boxes and how your bags' keychains were swapped out to match with your outfits from time to time. so naturally, you come to mind whenever he sees items of that nature.

meguru swears up and down that he doesn't always buy things that make him think of you. promises he wouldn't spend his money that irresponsibly. then, he follows up that promise by saying, "the monster keeps dropping them in my bag whenever he sees them!"

right. but how could you hate it when it was quite literally the most adorable habit of his?

aside from that, however, meguru's the type to text you whatever comes to mind, no matter the time of day, no matter how stupid the thought.

you could be in the middle of your night routine, about to go to bed, and you would receive the most out of context messages from him.

sent at 22:43: i got this idea for a book plot  isagi's gna be a knight and i'll be a part of the royal family... like maybe a prince... CAN YOU PLEASEEE WRITE IT FOR ME 🧎‍♂️

and of course, you have to step back and stare at your phone for a second. he wanted... a him x isagi fic. at least that's how it was sounding. cool. though it can't help but be wondered— what spurred on this idea..?

then, you would get another message before bed from him, right as you were trying to get comfortable in bed.

sent at 23:17: LOOK at this car parked outside of my apartment complex yo its literally bumblebee from transformers that's twin

...anyway. dating meguru was both romantic and like having an idiotic best friend. all of the little things he did only served to solidify the love you had for him and all his little quirks.

kenyu yukimiya always did his best to be a gentleman for you. he would give you the world if he could. kenyu expressed his love in a way that went beyond the bounds of the english language, at times. but he always spoke clearly, never leaving room for you to doubt his love for you.

beyond that, though, he paid special attention to your insecurities. he knew you disliked certain parts of yourself, and he always did his best to combat such thoughts.

"that scar looks so beautiful. you're so beautiful." he stands behind you, propping his chin up against your shoulder and gazing softly at you through the mirror. a state of reverence was palpable in his admiration for you. 

he gently turned you to face him, and he pressed a light kiss to your scar.

"with or without this scar, you'll always be the prettiest girl i know." he brushed a lock of hair away from your eyes. "every single 'flaw' or 'imperfection' you have only makes you more attractive in my eyes."

in fact, he probably still had a crush on you.

another thing kenyu always did for you, though, was keep the house stocked up with your favorite breads.

once a week, the sweetheart would take you with him to the local bakery, and he would tell you to choose whatever you wanted.

and if you couldn't come for some reason or another, he'd surprise you by coming home with a huge bag from the bakery. "hi, angel. i got stuff from kumori. wanna try some of it?"

he never ever forgot to go weekly.

reo mikage always took photos of you. it was usually when you least expected it, too. mid-dinner, when you laughed at his joke, or when the two of you were at home in sheet masks. he adored you.

with how often he took photos of you, his lockscreen seemed to change on the daily— though, of course, that was a bit of an exaggeration.

two weeks ago, his lockscreen was a photo of you on the beach, sunset in the background. you were smiling for the camera.

last week, his lockscreen was a photo of you, enamored with a flower you saw while walking with him. you were bent down, looking at the flower in amazement.

but today, his lockscreen is you holding a bouquet. the bouquet he gave you for your anniversary.

even though you never mentioned it to him, you were fully aware of reo's lockscreens. he knew you were, too. sometimes he would change it just for you to see.

but back to the bouquet, for a second. something else reo always did for you was buy you flowers. no matter the occasion, he would bring you flowers.

to make sure your flowers were never wilting away at home, he'd keep one for himself. just so that he knew when to go buy new ones. 

the arrangement was always a little different, some with carnations and snowdrops, some with lilies of the valley and hawthorns. he always made sure it was something new, tied up with a bow.

sure, it might have been a little over the top in other people's eyes, but nothing was too much for you. reo would buy the moon and stars for you, if it made you happy. he could afford it, anyway.

vannah's notes — and what if i told you i wrote a lot of this based off things my friends do; girl i wrote this on a plane again... sick of airports and flying; i hope this is somewhat well characterized because idk what i'm doing- this is me trying to get back into writing!!; there's this guy who does some of these things w me and GODDDD i want him so bad 💔

© kaalwanan '25. please do not repost, plagiarise, translate, or feed my work to ai.

[jj-one]

FWB!CHAN ✶ HEADCANONS ! 💭

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: bang chan x f!reader, friends with benefits genre/tags: smut, angst (?), mentions of drinking, chan is lowkey toxic lol, jealousy/rough s*x, dom!chan, oral (m + f. receiving), marking, light degradation, mentions of choking, creampie, aftercare, honestly there’s probably more idk words: 1.4k

[ note. ] — this was inspired by an ask from this anon, i kinda got a little carried away w this lmaooo but hopefully these ain’t too bad :p

you met at some rooftop party you didn’t even want to attend. one of those late summer nights that felt too hot, too loud and hazy from all the alcohol and smell of cheap weed. he was sitting at the bar laughing with his friends, shirt undone at the top, neck glistening with sweat, a solo cup in one hand and a lazy, arrogant smirk that locked onto you like he knew something you didn’t.

you weren’t supposed to end up alone with him on the balcony, but tequila makes bad decisions taste like sugar, and one too many shots turned passing glances into grinding against the railing, breathy laughs into open-mouthed kisses, and before you know it your back’s hitting the inside of your car.

that night, you two fucked like strangers who hated the idea of never seeing each other again. fast, rough, and selfish. hands bruising, mouths everywhere, no sweet words exchanged; just the raw instinct to claim.

you left thinking it was a fluke, just a one time thing. then he started texting you— short, cocky messages at the weirdest hours, and you started showing up. there were no rules, no promises. you were both grown adults, both single, but you didn’t ask questions you didn’t wanna hear the answers to. so you never defined it, never tried to begin with. he became like a drug to you, always too addictive, satisfying, and way too easy to fall back into no matter how many times you “swore” you were done.

it’s no surprise to you he was seeing other girls. you tried not let it get to you, tried not to let it show when you’d come over after being hit with the usual 3 am, “u up?” text— but the way your chest tightened when you found unfamiliar lip gloss on his sheets or smelled another girl’s perfume on his clothes told you otherwise.

he never offered explanations and you didn’t expect them. though, the moment he suspected you were seeing someone else?? his touches got rougher, his grip would get tighter. he didn’t explicitly state his jealousy, but the bruises he’d left behind did.

fucking chan feels like being wrecked and worshipped all in the same breath. he fucks you like he owns you. he has god-tier dick, perfect curve, thick, veiny, knows exactly how to angle his hips to ruin you. his strokes are deep and punishing when he’s jealous, like he’s trying to fuck someone else’s name out of your memory. you could be laid flat on his bed, legs over his shoulders, hands trapped in his hold above your head as he drives into you with quiet, controlled violence. the mattress creaks and your body jolts with every thrust. he watches as your body unravels, obsessed with the way your lips fall open, the way your brows scrunch, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room like it’s music to his ears.

sometimes he’ll slow down just to feel everything— your walls fluttering around him, the heat, the stretch. his hips grinding deeper and steadier, cock dragging across every sensitive spot like he wants to memorize you from the inside out.

backshots are his favorite. tgere’s something so primal about watching your ass ripple with every thrust, his hands spreading you wider, one thumb circling lazily at your rim just to watch you squirm >_<

chan could eat your pussy for hoursss, he just can’t help it, you taste so fucking good ;( he always starts real slow— mouth hovering just enough to tease you a little, feeling his breath fanning against you and watches your thighs twitch. then he devours. tongue working you open with maddening precision, sucking, lapping, groaning into you like it’s his last meal. he’ll overstimulate you just to prove a point, just because he can. grips your hips down when you try to close your legs and makes you ride his face until your voice goes hoarse, but he isn’t a monster! he always makes you finish on his tongue, again, and again until your thighs ache and you can’t tell if you’re crying or drooling from the high.

whenever you go down on him he leans back with his arms behind his head, head tilted slightly as he watches you from above. you can feel the tension in his abdomen long before he lets out a single sound. pre-cum leaks onto your tongue before you even get all the way down. he’s so responsive— hips bucking, muscles tensing, breath shallow. the way his cock twitches against your lips when you moan around it? he loses his composure. your mouth, your throat, your eyes looking up at him and it sends him spiraling. he finishes in your mouth often and makes sure you swallow every last drop, half-lidded, chest heaving. he never says thank you, just lifts your chin and kisses you like you didn’t just giving him the sloppiest head of your life.

he’s def into degradation, but only when you’re in the headspace for that, all soaked and pliant, practically begging for it.

slaps to your ass and light choking are regular staples. sometimes he spits in your mouth during missionary and tells you you’re his favorite fuck while looking right into your eyes. he’ll fuck you so hard your mascara’s runnny, hand pressed over your mouth while he keeps going, even as your legs start to shake. absolutely loves cumming on your tits or your face when he’s being a little mean. but when he’s in a mood? finishing inside is practically non-negotiable. “you want me to cum in this pussy, huh? you like getting filled like a good little slut.”

once fucked you on the cold floor just because you told him “we should stop doing this” and he took that shit personally.

always, always leaves marks!! sometimes in visible areas, sometimes not, but you feel them the next day, and he knows it.

he never says he wants you to himself, but the tension in his jaw when you laugh too hard at another guy’s joke says more than enough. ihe finds out someone else has touched you, it’s game over. he’ll call you over and fuck you so hard your voice breaks when you try to say his name.

you once wore a hickey someone else gave you and he didn’t say a word. just pulled your panties down, spread you on the counter, and fucked you raw until you couldn’t walk straight.

he’ll sometimes text you after being MIA for days, “you still fucking around or should i come ruin your night?” you remind him once again that he doesn’t own you and he’s just like, “no, but i know this pussy does.”

he’s not the type to do PDA— but if you show up to his place in a tight dress after being out? he’ll flip you over the couch and fuck you in it without saying anything just to remind you.

he hates knowing he’s not the only one in your life, even though he refuses to stop seeing other people. he won’t ask for exclusivity, but he punishes you for not giving it.

despite the chaos, chan’s aftercare is strangely tender. he wipes you down, helps you to the bathroom, throws you one of his hoodies and pulls you against his chest like he didn’t just rail your soul out. his fingers thread through your hair while you rest against him, body limp, mind blank. he’s quiet. still. sometimes hums softly into the space between your shoulder blades. there’s a kind of sadness to him in those moments. like he wants to say something, but doesn’t trust himself to say it out loud.

you fall asleep beside him more than you should, wrapped in his scent, his heartbeat steady against your cheek. you pretend it’s enough. you tell yourself you’re fine with it. that it’s just sex— though deep down, you know it’s not.

it’s the way he remembers what you like without you asking, pulls you closer during post-sex cuddles, how he sometimes kisses you like it truly means something.

sure you see other people, occasionally, but no one makes you feel like this, like you’re being broken and rebuilt in his hands everytime he touches you.

you want to be his only, but you’re not, and you won’t ask to be. because you’re scared of the answer. so instead, you stay. you let him fuck you, you let him ruin you and take care of you after. even if you let it hurt— because he’s the only one who’s ever made pain feel this good.

[sevsevteen]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ [ laces // collar // midsole ]

The feelings didn’t come sudden. Not as fast as you thought, anyway.

It was a quiet kind of realization - something that crawled in at 3 in the morning while you were waiting to fall asleep, just staring at every speck of dust on the ceiling fan.

Seventeen was the family that was always chaotic. Loud. Overwhelming.

But he was never overbearing. Never too close. Never too far.

He was just there.

Like the quiet at the end of a long day.

And while the others tackled you onto beanbags or roped you into tiktok challenges, Wonwoo would quietly pass you the charger you forgot to grab, or pull you into his side when you looked too tired to sit up straight during meetings.

You didn’t know when it started too, really.

Maybe it was the night you found him in the kitchen at 2 am, making ramyeon with glasses slipping down his nose. He didn’t say anything - just added a second portion without asking and shared it with you with that small tilt of a smile.

Or maybe it was the third time you found yourself laughing over something only he whispered into your ear, one the others didn’t catch but made your chest flutter quietly for the rest of the day.

You never felt nervous around him.

But you did become hyperaware.

The way he’d hold your wrist to guide you through a crowd.

The way he immediately walked out the door whenever you called him needing a ride.

The way he didn’t try to make you laugh - but did anyway, with nothing more than a quirk of his brow and a dry one-liner meant just for you.

It was…different.

Not loud. Just soft. Familiar.

Just like the shoes he gifted you (aka the ones you wore everywhere now).

.

You were seated at the kitchen table, hunched over a script you were preparing for a year-end video. Everyone else in the dorm was already asleep, or pretending to be.

A warm mug of honey tea slid into view.

Of course.

“How do you always know whenever I have a headache?” You looked up. “I’m starting to think you’re in love with me,” you joked quietly.

“Am I?” Wonwoo spoke, sipping his own mug as he slid into the seat across from you.

The room reclaimed its quiet, your eyes focusing back on the piece of paper.

But the thumping of your heart definitely wasn’t silent.

You played with the edge of the ceramic cup. “Do you ever think about how weird this is?”

“What?”

“How we just…get each other.”

Wonwoo hummed, eyes thoughtful behind his frames. “It’s not weird. Some things just fit.”

Your heart jumped once. Twice.

“Wonwoo,” you said softly, “do you think—”

“I do.” He looked at you, calm but certain. “Whatever you’re about to ask, I think I already do.”

You blinked. “That’s unfair. You didn’t even let me ask.”

“Didn’t need to.”

Another beat of silence.

And then you smiled, the kind that tugged at the corners of your mouth like something secret and sure.

“Okay,” you whispered, “so what now?”

Wonwoo stood, only to ruffle your hair gently as he walked by to place his mug in the sink.

“Now?” he said, voice warm like honey. “Now I keep making tea. And you keep pretending you don’t wait for me to.”

The two of you weren’t rushing toward a label. You didn’t need to.

Because whatever it was, it already lived in the way he passed you his coat when you were cold.

In the way you made space for him on every couch.

And in the way that, when the others joked about how “you would never date one of them,” Wonwoo only smiled quietly from across the room.

Because you already fell.

Just…not that loudly.

Yet.

And one accidental witness was all it took.

--

a/n there will be a pt 3!

[ddarker-dreams]

Yandere Anaxa x Reader "Flower Garden"

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, spoilers for the Amphoreus story, some implied not SFW. Word count: 3.6k.

Answering all the yandere flower question prompts for the Prof <3

Amaryllis - Would this yandere ever bend their whims to better suit their darling’s needs, or is their word always law? 

Anaxa doesn’t leave much guesswork when it comes to his expectations. He gave them a fair amount of thought, the earlier iterations were actually stricter. As such, the final draft is, by his estimation, nearly flawless. He anticipated some resistance on your part, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be influenced by your ‘shortsighted moral objections.’ He expects you to adhere to his guidelines with little deviation. Of course, he’ll reassure that he isn’t heartless, he’ll judge infractions on a case-by-case basis. If you’re clever, you’ll realize you can get away with some misbehavior if you don’t run it by him first. It’s easier to defend your past actions than convince him to let you do as you please. Use this loophole sparingly; he’ll catch on should you exploit it often. 

Basil - Does the yandere want what they think is “best” for their darling, or do they prioritize their wishes above all else? 

Anaxa is multifaceted in this regard. As a professor, he believes he excels at seeing the wider picture, whereas your scope is limited. You might think he’s terrible and controlling, but it’s a matter of perspective. He will help you excel at any field of study you’re interested in. This is how he views the issue, at least. Anaxa considers it a form of equivalent exchange. In return for his full support, all you have to sacrifice are a few pesky personal freedoms. Academics necessitate these sacrifices regardless. Your aversion to his interference is a display of reactance. It’s understandable, if not a bit vexing. 

Bellflower - Is there anything that their darling could do/say that’d make the yandere’s feelings for them waver? Would they be able to bounce back, or would it permanently change the yandere? 

You’re welcome to try. Unfortunately for you, he’s already accounted for this possibility. Should you spew the most reprehensible vitriol, especially if it’s out of character, he’ll assume you’re trying to rile him up. Anaxa respects your dedication and may even offer suggestions for future reference (which has the unintended effect of making this form of resistance lose its appeal). It’s not that he’s emotionless. Rather, he can recontextualize what he’s hearing so it doesn’t pack a punch. Verbal exchanges are one thing, actions are another. If he ever discovered you were intimate with another just to hurt him… well. It wouldn’t make his dedication to you waver, you’d only succeed in earning his wrath. He’d become much harsher with the goal of ‘reeducating’ you. Far from pleasant. 

Carnation - Does this yandere consider what they’re doing morally “wrong”, and if so, how do they justify their actions to themselves? 

Anaxa and ethics are a notably blurred line. He’s confident that he isn’t subjecting you to anything you can’t handle, he understands you eerily well. He can recognize that what he’s doing would be considered ‘wrong’ by most, enough to try and hide his behavior. However, this isn’t because he feels guilty or regrets what he’s doing. It’d just be inconvenient if some do-gooder stuck their nose in his business. To him, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ are restrictive concepts. They’re useful tools for holding society together, yes, but exceptions should be allowed if the results will be extraordinary. As his muse, he credits you in part for his greatest discoveries. You play a key role in motivating him to pursue his work. Should that not grant him an exemption?

Chestnut - Would this yandere care about their darling’s past romantic relationships? If not, then why is that? 

Raise this point to him and he’ll scoff, claiming of course not. (He’s being disingenuous). Anaxa wouldn’t be bothered in the traditional sense, it’s more that the dislikes that another held major influence over you. That’s his role! People aren’t molded by any one thing, it’s a combination of biopsychosocial elements. He aims to encompass all three as it relates to you. You are his pièce de résistance. He doesn’t want some other schmuck claiming credit for his effort, minor or not. … And, if he were to be completely honest, he is a little jealous. He’ll criticize everything about them, even the way they breathe and walk. 

Cypress - How does this yandere comfort their upset darling? 

Anaxa’s idea of comforting you is explaining — as many times as necessary — that you’re taking a reductionist view. He’ll discuss his reasoning for everything he does ad nauseam so there are no misconceptions. For him, he attributes discomfort to a lack of information. He’s also restless until he can fully comprehend the unknown. The cognitive aspect tracks for him, it’s the emotional that presents some complications. He could lie to make you feel better, but he values honesty. He’d rather be blunt and make you cry than coo empty promises in your ear. He isn’t sadistic, he doesn’t like making you upset, he just considers it a regrettable byproduct. He’ll mostly leave you alone until you calm down. 

Gardenia - Is the yandere most content watching their darling from afar, or do they feel the need to interact directly with them? Does it vacillate between the two? 

It’s about a 30/70 split. Anaxa recognizes that he’d never develop a nuanced view of you if he locked you up somewhere, mildly tempting as that idea is. Naturalistic observation has its merits. He studied you for months before entering (aka ruining) your life. This gave him a baseline of your behavior to work with. Admittedly, he could’ve gleaned more insight if this period had gone on longer, but he grew restless. He no longer wanted to be a mere bystander, he had to exert influence over you. Is it so inconceivable that he’d want to help mold such a promising mind? 

Honeysuckle - Would this yandere prefer to “tie-down” their darling through marriage or having/adopting kids? 

He’s thought about it. However, he’s a busy man, and kids are a huge time investment. He’s curious to know if it’d change you in any significant way, but not enough to actually go through with it. On a more petty note, he wouldn’t like competing with a kid for your attention. He is, for better or for worse, the most important person in your life. He intends to keep it that way. 

Hyacinth - How good is this yandere at getting their darling on their side by twisting their words/justifying their actions? If they’re not good at it, why is that? 

Anaxa could be better at it, but his warped principles stand in the way. He’s an excellent rhetorician, he’s used to championing unpopular positions. If he wanted to, he could get in your head and wreak havoc. It’s going to sound pretentious, but he believes this would be ‘too easy.’ He doesn’t want you to be a soulless puppet. He accepts your spite and defiance, viewing this resistance as a stimulating challenge. 

Hydrangea - How would this yandere react if their darling gave them affection? What is their internal thought process like? 

He’s suspicious immediately. You must be scheming if you’ve managed to overcome your obvious dislike of him. How he responds depends on how disruptive your plot would be. Anaxa doesn’t solely adhere to rationality; at the end of the day, he’s still a man who finds you attractive. Whatever you’re up to, if it involves seducing him, who is he to stop you? He’ll play along, acting none the wiser. There’s no denying that he’s sexually pent-up. Normally, he’s able to stop his mind from wandering, but he knows a good opportunity when he sees one. Now, if the affection isn’t sexual in nature, he’s actually at a bit of a loss. He’d get more flustered over a hug than if you were to start tugging at his belt. Even he isn’t sure why that is. 

Jasmine - How would this yandere use their status/money in their favor? 

Anaxa’s in a weird position, because he’s both ridiculed in academia yet begrudgingly respected to an extent. He’s the founder of his own school in the Grove and its Sage, a laudable title. Still, he doesn’t have enough prestige to puppeteer your life all over Amphoreus. The Grove of Epiphany is as far as his reach extends, and even then, he has enemies there, too. When it comes to keeping you in line, he has to get creative. This is made slightly easier if you’re pursuing anything in academics, whether it be an education or beyond. Most students hold him in high regard, but his fellow faculty members are split. Depending on your compliance, he can either aid or inhibit your aims. He’d rather not have to rely on anyone else though, it’d be a last-ditch effort. 

Lavender - Would this yandere’s darling be able to sense the impending danger, or is the yandere efficient at hiding their darker side? 

You’re going to be blindsided. Whether you’re a Nousporist from the beginning or not (if not, you will become one somewhere down the line), you’ve heard of the infamous Professor Anaxagoras. A brilliant mind, sharp tongue, and an eccentric who ridicules the values most hold dear. Most people try to limit their interactions with him, even if they hold him in high esteem. You’re no different. He’s just… a difficult person. For his part, he treats you like he does anyone else, if not sterner. No one could guess that you’re his favorite because he gives you such a hard time. Your friends will jokingly ask what you did to earn his distaste, not knowing it’s the opposite. 

Lily - What would ultimately give the yandere’s true intentions away? Does the yandere do it on purpose, or is it an accident? 

It’s going to be on his terms. You’re called into his office one day, where he informs you that you’ll be serving as his ‘personal assistant.’ He doesn’t ask if you accept this role, he assumes you’ll be honored enough by his acknowledgement to jump at the chance. Whatever your thoughts are, he’ll list all the requirements this position entails. The main takeaway of his lengthy monologue is that you’ll be spending a lot of time together. Your social life? Inconsequential. Your hobbies? He’s set aside space in his office, engage in them there. He has a thought-out answer for any issues you raise. This man won’t take no for an answer. 

Lime blossom - Does the yandere’s feelings for their darling fall more under “love” or lust? 

Defining how exactly he feels about you perplexes him. Love feels childish and insufficient. It lacks depth, failing to convey how utterly obsessed he is with you. Nonetheless, as a scholar with a voracious appetite for knowledge, he pursues a satisfactory answer. The conclusion he arrives at is a bit abstract. You are his ‘proof’ that the Titans are vapid placeholders, which humanity defaults to worshipping owing to a lack of imagination. Prophecies, cults, they’re all just easy ways to give one’s life meaning. No, in his view, meaning must be sought out, or it holds no significance. So to him, you’re quite literally the crux of his existence. 

Lotus - How does this yandere ultimately view their darling? As someone greater than them and in need or reverence, someone lower than them, or somewhere in between? 

Anaxa never really considers this question. If you asked and he had to answer, he’d eventually say, “an almost equal.” Now, that doesn’t sound so bad, but his definition of equal isn’t the same as most. He respects you and that’s so rare that it automatically elevates your position. Nevertheless, he believes he knows better than you and acts accordingly. You aren’t given much agency. Should you claim that this is belittling, he’d tell you that you’re welcome to think that way. If you expect him to follow this up with a “however,” you’ll be staring at him for a while. He doesn’t care to justify his thoughts on this because he finds it an inane question. 

Magnolia - Would there ever be any time that the yandere would reflect on their actions and wonder if they should stop/change their ways? Or do they always believe themselves to be in the right? 

He could get visited by the Ghost of Reason Past, Present, and Future; he’s still not changing a single thing. The only reflection he does is self-serving, not self-critical. He’ll wonder how he can keep you under his thumb better and improve over time. Anaxa is stubborn to a fault. When Cerces occupies his head, they’ll champion your cause. Not owing to any conviction over his wrongdoing, but because it makes for an interesting debate. In every cycle, until the very end, he believes he’s justified in his actions. Kaslana notes that Anaxa’s intensity only grew in fervor with each subsequent cycle. It’s remarkable in its own right. 

Mint - How do the people around the yandere view them? Are they none the wiser to what the yandere’s doing, complicit in some way, uncaring, etc? 

The only individual who knows everything is Kaslana, but he’s too busy with his whole bit to spare you much thought. Besides, he’s found that you’re a useful bargaining chip to receive the Coreflame of Reason. Basically a cheat code. Once the Chrysos Heirs enter the scene, Aglaea is roughly aware of your plight. Similar to Kaslana, Aglaea finds your unique sway over the Great Performer valuable. In return for some favors relating to him, she might help you out. Emphasis on might. Sweet Hyacine senses the tension in the air between you. She successfully deduces that you’re ‘lovers’ (?) but that there must be a reason why you’re keeping it a secret.

Much to Anaxa’s amusement, she’ll try playing couple’s counselor, encouraging you to be “open with your feelings” and “understanding” of the enigmatic professor. She takes it so seriously that her compassion is legitimately touching, despite the absurdity of the predicament you’ve found yourself in. While Anaxa’s chuckling over her gentle advice for you, she’s ready to give him a firm talking to. You’re just standing there nodding solemnly as she reminds the professor to be more “thoughtful in his conduct.” 

Myrtle - Is this yandere consistently the same during the time they spend with their darling, or does their attitude begin to change? If so, what prompts the change?

His attitude and behavior remain rather consistent. It’s difficult to notice, however, over time, he becomes warmer toward you. He tries to keep his fondness under control so that you don’t ‘exploit’ it. There’s nothing in particular that sparked the change, just your continued interactions. The most significant difference is his increased hesitance to make you cry going forward. He’s never liked it much to begin with, but as his warped affection proliferates, he dreads the possibility. He isn’t the best at comforting you, yet his approach grows less clinical. He’ll opt to remain silent by your side, rubbing your shoulder until the sobs subside. 

Narcissus - Does this yandere prefer to infiltrate their darling’s life, or do they prefer to take their darling away? 

The whole kidnapping route didn’t seem viable to him, so he opted for a more sustainable method. Kidnapping is crude, and while it might appease his urges in the short-term, too many complications can arise. Instead, he meticulously intertwines your lives. This organic approach sees you ensnared before you even realize what’s happening. In a way, you get used to his nonsense. It’s an adaptive measure, sure, but it serves his ends as well. The righteous fury you once directed at him is a difficult blaze to sustain. You hate to admit it, but going along with his whims eventually starts to feel routine. He makes a point of never pushing you too far. While testing your limits is intriguing, he knows when to rein himself in. 

Pansy - What was it that ultimately sparked their obsession? 

If he had to trace it back to a singular instance, it’d be overhearing you defend an original idea that wasn’t well-received by the student body. Your refusal to surrender in the face of public backlash caught his attention. From that point onward, he paid extra close attention to you. Your mannerisms, language, and viewpoints; everything coalesced into the perfect storm. Before he knew it, you were haunting his every waking thought. 

Peony - How shameless is this yandere? Do they care about their public image and or private image, and how does that affect how they treat their darling? 

Anaxa doesn’t care what others think about him. The only incentive he has for hiding the despotism he’s subjecting you to is so no one gets involved, not because he feels ashamed. When Cerces encountered his memories of you, they expected he’d get embarrassed once they mentioned it. Instead, composed as ever, Anaxa offered an explanation for every question or probe they could conjure up. Aglaea’s taunts are similarly ineffective. The Goldweaver has made allusions to your ‘unfortunate predicament’, hoping that would give her an opening to disorient the Great Performer, to no avail. Anaxa’s rebuttal would point out her hypocrisy, as she uses her golden threads to monitor all of Okhema. How is what he’s doing any different? Out of his concern for your well-being, he keeps a watchful eye on you, just as she does with the denizens of The Holy City. The man’s always got a way to defend himself. 

Primrose - In the yandere’s ideal world, what would their relationship with their darling be like? 

Anaxa has two answers for this. The first, less embarrassing answer is that he wants you to stop being so stubborn and accept his guiding hand. The second is a well hidden secret that even Cerces was pressed to discover — marriage. Voluntarily on your part, in a world where you’re just as madly in love as he is. His face gets warm just thinking about it. He’ll never admit this to you, but if you were to ever bring it up out of spite, you’d find he gets uncharacteristically quiet. This is one of the few sore subjects he clumsily guides you away from. He dislikes the hollowness in his chest he experiences upon realizing you’d never reciprocate his affection to that extent. He could achieve it, but it’d require coercion, which defeats the purpose. 

Rose - Does this yandere indulge much about themselves to their darling? Does it depend on if their darling were to ask? Or are they secretive and closed off? 

For someone who believes he’s owed access to every iota of information about you, he’s not very forthcoming himself. It’s like trying to move a stone statue. You can make a little progress, but it’s so frustrating and exhausting that future attempts are deterred. You’re better off arriving at your own conclusions. Anaxa’s not one to open up about his past, especially since he’s aware you could use the sensitive information to your advantage. However, a few details come to your attention over the years. You know he had an older sister, that his hometown no longer exists, and at some point, he sacrificed his eye in an alchemical ritual. According to the law of equivalent exchange, you’d have to offer a secret about yourself no one else knows for him to divulge more. 

Snapdragon - What is the darling’s day-to-day life like? Does it depend on how they’ve been acting, or is it always the same? 

There are a couple different routines you follow, depending on how occupied he is with lecturing or his research. You have a bit more wiggle room when he’s occupied with his teaching obligations. That’s when you’re free to pursue your own interests, scheme, or sometimes a combination of both. You’re not so fortunate if he’s immersed in research. You expected he’d want to sequester himself to his office, granting you days of freedom. Instead, you have to carry out your ‘personal assistant’ duties. How directly involved you are depends on how hazardous his undertakings will be. If it’s dangerous, he has you sit a safe distance away, scribbling down his observations as well as your own. He does wish you’d stop looking so excited when his clothes catch fire or after a strong explosion blows him back a few feet. He especially doesn’t appreciate your habit of poking him with a stick and inquiring, “You dead yet, Prof?” 

Tulip - Does the yandere want their darling’s forgiveness, or does it make no difference to them?

He doesn’t believe he’s done anything that requires your forgiveness. If anything, he’d find it mildly disconcerting. He’d be concerned that you hit your head or something. He’ll phrase it that bluntly too. While it may inconvenience him, Anaxa believes your anger is a sign of a healthy mind, so he prefers that over apathy or ‘forgiveness’. 

Wisteria - Is the yandere welcoming of any relationships (platonic/familial/etc) in their darling’s life, and what would it depend on if so? 

This is a situational dilemma. Anaxa would prefer you interact solely with him, but even he can recognize that’s unrealistic and potentially detrimental. So, you have a few ‘Anaxagoras-approved’ contacts. At the top of the list is Hyacinthia, owing to her infectious positivity. He’d rather not mix you with his students, but he wouldn’t be that bothered if you befriended Castorice, whom he considers harmless enough. Phainon of Aedes Elysiae is off-limits, however. Anaxa doesn’t appreciate how familiar he acts with you. There was a time Phainon put a hand on your shoulder, only for Anaxa to deduct enough credits for the poor guy to be on the precipice of failing. Your later defense of Phainon did not help his case. 

[gatorbites-imagines]

GATOR!!! GIVE ME YOUR HEADCANONS OF AN INVINCIBLE CHARACTER OF YOUR CHOICE WITH A TAMARANEAN READER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

*kneels before you like a fucked up yaoi squire*

anyways, can you tell I love tamaraneans? Cause I love them. My beloved humanoid cat gladiators <3. They should be able to purr along side the laser eyes, tbh.

ps. Congrats on the internship, king 👑

Mark Grayson x Tamaranean male reader 

Headcanons 

*sits on my throne like a yaoi king, with a comically big crown and scepter* 

Hey gamers, sorry for the lack of posting, my internship is busy and I use most of my free time on artfight, lmao. But here I am, enjoy. Have some Tamaranean headcanons as well. 

I think its a bit of an accepted fact that Mark likes redheads, right? Just like Dick Grayson, sigh. Those Graysons and their redheads. 

So, Mark would immediately think a Tamaranean would be pretty. When you turn out to be really nice and approachable too? Well, hes sold. 

Tamaraneans are a people fueled a lot by emotions, meaning they love fiercly and hate just as strongly, so Mark feels overwhelmed when you guys become friends, and you are all over him. 

He doesn't know what to do with himself when you kiss his cheek and cuddle him platonically. You being as strong as you are adds to it too, as it's been a while since he's been able to just hug and squeeze someone. 

It's hard to say who falls first, or who falls hardest. Mark is so brave and bright that it's impossible not to fall in love with him. And you are so approachable and kind, how can he not? 

But you guys start dating, at some point. It most likely happens sometimes post season 2, even season 3, so you fight alongside him when everything happens, ya know?

 

Now on to alien biology, hehe :3ccc 

As Viltrumites run hotter than humans, tamaranean reader would be so comfy cuddling Mark, just draped over him and melting. 

Mark is so taken with the readers hair, especially when you guys are flying and it looks like it's on fire. Expect Mark to circle you on the regular, no matter how long you two have been dating. 

I think tamaraneans purr, but it's a bit more guttural in sound. Think like the noises big cats do instead of the purr small cats do. As they are a very emotion-based people, tamaraneans purr very easily too. 

Mark realizes after a while that your pupils do shrink and grow. It's not to the same degree as cats, but he can noticeably see them widen when you look at him, and shrink when you look at Cecil. 

Tamaraneans with claws? Tamaraneans with claws. They can be flicked in and out like a cat, and aren't typically used. 

As Viltrumites don't purr or the like, Mark is fascinated and loves all the little alien noises you make, or things you do. You'll catch him admiring you a lot, but that's just in general. 

I feel like viltrumites and tamaraneans know each other, since they're both strong alien species, if that makes sense. Theres probs been a lot of fighting in the past. 

This makes Mark so scared and nervous about meeting your family when the time comes. You can only really just sit back as he paces and works himself into a tizzy. 

Only way to get him to stop is to hug him, hold him, and tell him all the things you love about him, and to reassure him that your family will love him, because you love him. 

Some of your family may be somewhat cautious when they meet Mark, especially when they learn he's a viltrumite. But they they're all shown he's nothing like other viltrumites, then he's accepted with open arms. 

Mark just ends up stuck between a lot of purring tamaraneans, who are asking him so many questions. About him, about you, your relationship, his plans, your plans, etc, etc. 

Your family can be a lot, even for you, so at the end of the day you guys can go back to your room and just relax, or more if that's what ya want.  

Its exhausting but also satisfying in a way. You two do have a feeling that your parents, aunts and uncles, are already planning your wedding, but thats for later.