#i doubt you expected something different :D

[tojisun]

simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! suggestive-ish; hinted age difference (20s vs 30s); hinted d/s; minors dni

“why won’t you fuck me?”

your pitiful voice stops simon from moving, his feet stuttering with muted thuds. he breathes in sharply, not having expected the words that slipped from your lips, before he turns and tips his head towards you.

you’re trembling, and simon doesn’t know if it’s because of the cool air or the intensity of your emotions, those that urged you to whine at his pathetic display of restraint, but still he hesitates. afraid that if he comes close, then the remnant of his patience will finally snap.

because it’s not that simon wouldn’t fuck you – god knows there’s nothing more he’d want to do than love you slowly and deeply, caressing you tenderly until you are trembling at the intensity of his passion; until the doubts are finally crushed by the force of his affections – but it’s that he knew you deserve someone better.

someone who wouldn’t leave you for months and years long because of a mission. someone who’d stay by your side each and every hour because he knows you (sometimes he wished he didn’t, if only to make it easier to forget about you), and he knows that you need someone to spoil you. to pamper you.

simon knows you deserve more than the world, knows that he can only give you pieces of it but he’s selfish. he’s a monster wearing a human suit – incapable of surrendering, incapable of giving you up.

because simon knows you deserve better but gods he doesn’t want to let you go.

he moves to speak but you beat him to it, your lips wobbling as tears trickle down the corners of your eyes like molten diamonds. “you parade me around like a trophy wife but you won’t even give me a portion of that attention. you-”

his heart stops at the choked sob that gets stuck in the base of your throat, your face crumpling as you tremble at the intensity of your heartache.

it was instant how he moved to you, his frantic steps echoing against the cobblestone. he takes you in his arms, tucking your head underneath his chin and engulfing you in his embrace, hoping that you’d hear the staccato of his heart and know that it only ever beats for you.

you whine like you couldn’t decide if you want his comfort or not and simon freezes, afraid that he’s just heightened your bleeding heart. he moves to step away, his lips parting for an apology, but you clutch at the ends of his shirt, refusing to let go.

he follows your silent command – simon will follow you no matter where, no matter what – and presses you close again, his warmth mixing with yours and chasing away the goosebumps that littered your skin.

he kisses the top of your head, breathing you in. simon mulls over what to say, his own hesitation bursting at the corners of his mind, but he wants to stop pretending. he wants to stop lying to himself.

you love him and he loves you – sometimes, it could be that easy.

words aren’t his strongest suits but he tries anyway. “i love you,” he begins, the words slipping past his teeth with the simplicity of the truth. “i burn with the desire to be with you, sweet girl. but not this way. not yet.”

you tip your head up just enough to catch his gaze and simon croons at your swollen eyes, pressing gentle kisses on your eyebrows in comfort.

“why not?” you ask, ever so stubborn.

“because there are preparations that need to be done,” he replies, humming when your eyes widen in surprise. “i want to make love with you, sweetheart. not just make it as something fast and temporary.”

he watches you breathe in shakily.

“would you want that?” simon continues amidst your silence, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

you bite your bottom lip and nod. he clicks his tongue. “use y’r words. i need to hear it from you.”

“yes please,” you whisper, and simon coos at the broken rumble of your voice, still heavy with doubt. “i- yes. please, simon. i’d love that.”

“me too, sweet girl.” simon kisses your forehead, sealing the promise. “i’d love nothing more.”

[amoscontorta]

Sylus gets a headache | ao3 | other fics in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, no use of y/n. This story contains: fluff, banter, Sylus has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, legal arguments, bad puns, self-indulgent writing, repetitive finger caressing, insomnia that Sylus is determined to vanquish by any means, Xavier is an innocent victim in all this and has no idea, except has Xavier ever been innocent in his entire life? CWs: insomnia, consumption of alcohol, profanity SFW, mostly. With some filthy innuendos at the end. It's Sylus, after all.

It has been a few days since you had the best night’s rest you can remember on the back of a certain miscreant crime lord’s motorcycle, and you’re once again preparing for a long, torturous night of staring at the ceiling and trying to catalogue all the classes of wanderers in an attempt to lull yourself to sleep—Nero’s suggestion. You have your doubts about whether it will work, but he gave the advice so earnestly after overhearing you talking to Tara about your insomnia that you feel obligated to give it a go. Sylus would probably scoff and say something about ‘people pleasing,’—you shake your head. That man does not get to live rent free in your brain, no matter how suspiciously kind he was the last time you saw him.

The kettle squeals, and you pour the boiling water into your chipped “World’s Greatest Hunter” mug that Caleb had gifted you once you were admitted into the Association’s ranks. The hot liquid steams soothingly into your face as it drowns a chamomile teabag, and you try not to think about the last time you saw him, when he was smiling. Patting your head. Whole, and so, so vibrantly alive. You take a deep, shaky breath.

After a suggestion from Tara, you add some honey and then slice a lime and squeeze the juice into the tea, absently stirring the spoon and gazing out your balcony window. You’re home early for once, and the sun is only just setting. You can’t see it through the high rises around you, but dusk filters down into the streets below your flat. The gentle sounds of the city moving into late evening drift up, the traffic like waves crashing on the shore, laughter and shop bells tinkling, a dog barking somewhere.

Suddenly, your doorbell chimes through your apartment and startles you out of your reverie. Did you forget that you had ordered something to be delivered today?

Without thinking too hard about it, you take your still piping-hot tea and pad to the foyer to answer the door.

Only to have your sense of calm shattered as you fling the mug out of sheer, instinctual self-preservation that Zayne accuses you of not having, when you see who is standing on the other side.

Quicker than your brain can actually process Sylus’s presence outside your flat, scarlet-night tendrils have prevented the mug from shattering on the floor, but have failed to stop the liquid from continuing its projectile path right onto his red, standing collar shirt and black vest.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

“You really, and I mean really, need to work on your greetings, kitten,” he tells you calmly, evol delivering the mug into his waiting hand while he holds the suitcase he has in the other hand away from his body to avoid being dripped on by his now soaked torso.

“Sorry, you were the last person I was expecting.” You wince, heart still threatening to beat its way out of your rib cage.

“Oh, expecting someone, are we?” he lifts a dark silver eyebrow.

“No, but least of all… you.” You flap your hand in his general direction. “What are you even doing here?”

“How about,” he drawls, “you let me in, and I’ll tell you. You wouldn’t want your neighbors to get curious and come to inquire about the mess I’m making on your doorstep, would you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to think of a way out of having him in your space, again, but you’re tired at the end of another long day, another long week, another long month and this whole entire fucking year. Trying to get rid of him will take more energy than just letting him do what he wants so that he’ll go away again. You run a hand down your face and shuffle aside.

He enters, and the scent of him fills the small foyer, warm and mouth-watering. He sets the briefcase and mug on the floor, removes his dress shoes and places them neatly by your own hastily-kicked-off boots next to the step leading into the rest of your flat. He then picks the mug back up and reads what’s written on it.

“World’s best hunter, indeed.” He snorts softly, eyes flicking from your face to your thin tank top and sleep shorts covered in grinning little bounce, bounce planet blobbus, to your bare feet. “Is this how the world’s greatest hunter always answers the door to unknown visitors?”

“It was a gift,” you say defensively, snatching the mug from him and cradling it to your chest. “And the only people who would be at my door this late is Xavier borrowing a cup of sugar for some doomed baking experiment, or a delivery person. I’m sure they’ve seen much worse than this,” you sweep your hand down your body in a dismissive flourish.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve seen much worse.” Sylus frowns slightly.

“Yeah, so if they don’t like it, they’re welcome to move on to their next delivery.”

“Or buy their own sugar,” Sylus murmurs, reaching out to run a finger along your knuckles as you clutch the mug. “And who gave you this highly accurate mug?”

You hesitate, knowing that his face is going to do something complicated, like it always does, when you mention your family. But fuck it, he asked. If he doesn’t like the answer, he can also move on to whatever his next nefarious errand is. “Someone who was like a brother to me.”

“Brother, huh,” he says softly, still gently stroking your skin. “Well, he wasn’t wrong in this.” His hand falls back to his side. “Invite me all the way in, kitten. With your words,” he commands.

“And why should I do that? The deal was to let you come in. You’re in now. You don’t need to come in any further. Now it’s your turn to honor the deal. Why are you here?” You glare up at him, your foyer feeling minuscule with his big body and presence filling it.

“You offered me your place if I ever needed it,” Sylus narrows his glittering eyes. “I needed it today before you flung steaming liquid all over my clothes. And now I need it even more.” He looks pointedly down at the still-dripping clothes in question.

“What did you originally need it for?” You stall, the guilt of throwing a mug full—half! Half full! of tea at him starting to creep in.

“How about you invite me all the way into your home, with your words, help me take care of this mess you caused,” he waves a lazy finger at his torso, “and I’ll tell you.”

“But you already promised to tell me why you’re here in exchange for the initial value of me letting you in, and I let you in. I already paid. You can’t make me pay twice for the same goods,” you protest.

“Remind me to take you with me the next time I have contract negotiations. You’re more useful than my own legal counsel.” He pauses, considering you. “Circumstances have changed. Force majeure prevents me from fulfilling my original promise without requiring additional time and means to fulfil that promise. You owe me the opportunity to successfully deliver what I owe you.”

“What, exactly, is preventing you from telling me why you originally came to my home right here in my entryway?”

“The consequences of an unforeseeable natural disaster,” he answers with a little helpless shrug. “Namely, the trauma of nearly getting drowned in tea following almost being taken out by a mug launched with your god-like strength. Kitten, your assault is the equivalent of an act of god, and I can’t be responsible for the fact that I now need a dry shirt and a safe place to recover from the shock of almost being murdered by your tableware.”

You can’t help it. It has been so long since you’ve actually laughed out loud, so the noise that comes out of you doesn’t even sound human. You’re laughing, and you can’t stop. The affronted look on Sylus’s face in response to your ugly-snorts, causes you to laugh even more, and you’re suddenly bending over, holding your knees, laughing like you might die if you stop.

After a long moment, when you are finally able to breathe again, you straighten and find Sylus looking at you with a soft expression, one corner of his wide mouth slightly lifted… which is alarming. But you’re too filled with gratitude for the relief of laughing that his absurd exaggeration just gave you, so you refuse to think about anything at all too hard right now. You give in.

“Sylus, would you do me the honor of coming into my home? You can tell me what the hell you’re doing here after I find you a dry shirt.” You sarcastically bow as low as you can, your arms uplifted to gesture him forward.

“I suppose I can’t refuse such a graciously extended offer,” he says, as if resigned to a terrible fate, but his smile is smug and he wastes no time striding into your living room while unbuttoning his vest. He gently lays it over the back of your couch, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You force yourself to stop staring as the pale skin slowly being revealed with each flick of his long fingers and head to your bedroom.

You paw through your chest of drawers, trying to find a shirt that will fit his broad shoulders and chest, but all you manage to do is make even more of a mess in your barely organized drawers. You stand, remembering the hoodie Xavier leant you after a recent, particularly messy battle on a chilly night. You move to your closet where you had hung it carefully to remind yourself to give it back to him after having washed it. You pull it from the hanger, turn around, and squeal loud enough to shatter glass.

Sylus is standing right behind you, chest bare, black slacks hung low around his narrow hips, and you did not heard him come in.

“I thought we were past the terror stage of our friendship, sweetheart,” he says, cocking his head, the same ruby stud earrings he was wearing at the club flashing in the light. “But that’s twice today that I’ve frightened you to the point of violence. Am I really that scary?”

“You keep… appearing, out of nowhere. A little warning would be appreciated,” you huff, heart pounding. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around him. Really. It has nothing to do with the broad expanse of creamy skin and pillowy man-tits shoved in your face at the moment. “And honestly, considering the fact that our friendship started with you choking me out and keeping me captive for days, it’s a wonder that I’m not more scared of you,” you flare, because yeah, how dare he act like you should be over the absolute shit-show of your first encounter, when you’ve hardly had any time to get to know him. That’s why you’re nervous. There is no other possible explanation. A couple friendly interactions do not make up for how much of an evil bastard he was when you first met him.

“Would you like me to wear a bell when I’m here, then?” he asks, conveniently ignoring the reminder regarding how he treated you not so long ago.

“How about you just stay out of my bedroom and stay where I can see you at other times,” you snap, feeling violent again at the intrusive thought of Sylus wearing a collar around his thick neck, cute little bell dinging every time he moved.

“I’ll do my best,” he says absently, clearly distracted by his thorough inventory of your bedroom as he takes in the tumbling plants in mismatched pots on floating shelves hanging over the unmade bed, the army of plushies scattered over the bunched up mountain of duvet and pillows. Your bed used to be your sanctuary. The place where you could find rest and relaxation after exhausting battles and long days squinting at the computer filing incident reports. Now it just gives you anxiety. You try to pull his attention away from the chaos of your former safe space by holding Xavier’s hoodie out for Sylus to take.

“Here, this might fit you.”

Sylus looks down at your offering, crosses his arms, and takes a step back, as if the hoodie is so offensive that it warrants recoiling physically from it. “That’s quite a big hoodie for you, even for days when you want to be comfortable,” he says evenly.

“It’s not mine, but it’s clean, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing I have right now that will fit you,” you say, shaking it a little in the universal, impatient gesture of just take it already for fuck’s sake.

“And who is its actual owner?”

“Xavier.”

“In the habit of wearing your partner’s clothing, are we?” he asks, still staring at it, the disdain now plain in his assessment of the sweatshirt.

“Uh, sometimes? We were on a mission recently and my jacket got torn to the point of uselessness, and it was cold. He let me wear his hoodie so I wouldn't be cold. It's been washed since then, so it's clean. I’ll just wash it again when you’re done using it before I return it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

After what seems like a ridiculous amount of time for him to apparently make some mental calculations that only he will ever understand, he finally takes the soft hoodie from you, fingertips brushing yours as he grasps the fabric. You can’t figure out why he he suddenly looks more smugly evil than you’ve ever seen, with his lips curved up in a sardonic smirk. “Oh, of course, I’m sure he will not mind at all.” He pulls the hoodie over his head and shimmies a little as he drags it down is body; it’s a little tight around the shoulders, but you don’t think it’s tight enough to permanently stretch the fabric.

After it’s on, he tugs the collar up to his nose and inhales deeply.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as if you can’t see perfectly well what he is doing.

“It smells like you,” he answers, shameless, as if that is a perfectly reasonable answer to your question.

“Well, I did wear it, and wash it with my normal detergent and it has been hanging in my closet for a while, so…” your voice trails off.

“And soon it will smell like me too,” he continues, letting the collar fall with a satisfied flick of his fingers.

What even is this conversation? “Can you just be normal? For once?" A look of boredom is all the response you get, so you continue. "Now get out of my bedroom. Come tell me why you’re here in the first place.” You stride past him, making your way into the living room.

He follows you obediently and plops down on the couch, and just like last time, spreads his legs wide. This time, he is able to rest his arms on either side along the back of the couch, effectively occupying the whole damn thing. He sits quietly, looking at you expectantly.

You stand, arms folded, a safe distance away from the couch near the kitchen island.

“Well?” You prompt.

“It’s customary to offer your guest a refreshing beverage upon receiving them in your home. I believe I offered you wine the first time I hosted you in my own home.”

“Hosted?” He can’t be serious. “What a generous euphemism for ‘unlawfully imprisoned,’” you bite out.

“Po-tae-to,” he says serenely, “Po-tah-to.”

“Sylus,” you warn—about what, you’re not sure. He wants a beverage? Okay, perhaps you’ll fling more hot tea at him if he doesn’t start talking.

“Kitten.” He continues gazing at you, clearly in no hurry to move things along.

“If you don’t tell me, right now, why the hell you showed up at my place unannounced, I will report you as a burglar and have you removed by the authorities.”

“But then how will you explain to Xavier why I’ve been arrested wearing his sweater?” he asks, eyes wide, all concern for what your partner’s thoughts on the matter would be, and what they would mean for you.

“Burglars have been known to be creeps and go rooting through their victims’ closets and wearing their clothes! I’ll just say you were wearing it when I got here. Maybe he’ll be worried that it’s him you’re actually interested in harassing,” you snicker, trying to picture Xavier’s reaction.

As you’re speaking, Sylus pulls out his phone and fiddles with it with a bored expression on his face.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Perhaps you should go find something more interesting to do and leave me in peace,” you grind out after you’ve finished and notice his complete lack of attention.

Your irritation is interrupted by a notification on your phone. Since Sylus is so busy messing with his, you grab yours from where it has been lying on the counter since before Sylus interrupted your peaceful evening staring out into the city. You see that you have a new message from… the man currently oozing across the entirety of your couch, head lolled to the side and watching you with a hint of amusement curving his mouth.

You open the chat, and your eyes widen at the conversation that never fucking happened currently loading into your chat history, with time stamps corresponding to when Sylus showed up at your door.

You: Oh Sylus, my big, handsome partner in crime, I think there’s an intruder in my flat and I’m so scared!

The Sytuation: What makes you think theres an intruder in your home, kitten? Im on my way.

You: There is sugar missing from my pantry! I just bought a new bag yesterday, and it’s gone! Oh please, my dark knight, come protect me from the sugar thief who should buy his own sugar and stop coming to my place to pilfer mine!

The Sytuation: Of course, sweetie. Go wait by the door, Ill be there in 5.

“What. Is. This. Fuckery,” you demand, thrusting your phone in his face.

He shrugs. “You threatened to lie about why I’m here in a bid to get rid of me. Did you not expect me to counter your move to ensure that no one will believe you?” he pauses, and then narrows his eyes. "Did you really save me in your phone as 'The Situation,' with a Y?"

"Punny, right? My phone doubles as my work phone. You really think I'm going to save your real name in my contacts? I might as well just save you as 'Sylus Qin, leader of Onychinus, most wanted criminal in the N109 zone," you grumble. "And trust me, that's the nicest name I could come up with."

"Punny," he repeats derisively, unimpressed.

“And don't derail. What is this nonsense about a sugar thief?” You wave the phone again.

“Your colleague should learn to stock his own pantry if he wants to engage in… what did you call them? Doomed baking experiments?”

“How did you even… why does it look so real?” You gaze down at the texts that look so authentic that if they hadn’t been filled with such bullshit, you’d be doubting your own sanity about whether the conversation had really happened.

“You’re really surprised that faking evidence, alibis and dirt on my opponents is a part of my vast skill set? I’m hurt that you underestimate me so.” He looks at you like he’s disappointed, a little pout pulling down his stupid beautiful mouth.

“For fuck’s sake.” You’re done. The longer you resist, the longer Sylus will be in your flat, driving you up the wall. “Fine. Fine!” You set your phone down again and throw up your hands. “What do you want to drink, Sylus?”

“Two fingers of gin, if you have it. Or brandy. Or vodka.” He thinks for a moment. “I’m not feeling too picky tonight.”

“I don’t keep hard liquor in my house, you alcoholic. I have a half-open bottle of rosé in the fridge. Will that satisfy his lordship?” You turn resignedly to trod your way to your fridge.

“What vineyard and vintage?” he asks, perking up.

You open the fridge and pull out the bottle. You squint at the label. “I dunno. It has a cute fish on the label, so I bought it.”

He looks at you like you just murdered Mephisto, and you begin pouring the pink liquid into another mug. This one says UNT on the side in big block letters, matching the size of the handle so that when you hold it, the handle looks like a matching C. You walk back to where he’s sitting, and you think that maybe your smile looks as smug as Sylus’s usually does when you hand him his drink.

He takes the mug from you, snorts when he reads the side, and then look at its contents dubiously for a moment.

“You taste it first,” he finally says, looking back up at you.

“Worried I poisoned it?” You’re still grinning.

“As you say,” he says, tilting his head.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t demand beverages from people you don’t trust then.”

“I trust you, just not your taste in wine after learning you choose bottles based on the cuteness of the label. Indulge me,” he murmurs. “Prove to me that you’re willing to drink it, and that it’s not just swill you’re trying to get rid of by offering it to me.”

You take the mug from him and lift it to your lips, taking a sip, watching him over the rim as you swallow. His nostrils flair, and he lifts his hand in a gesture for you to return it to him. Instead of giving it back, you take one more big gulp, and his brow furrows. Only after you've slowly swallowed again do you comply, relishing the warmth spreading through your body as you lower the mug for him to take. He brushes your fingers again as he takes it back. He turns the mug, so that his mouth hovers where yours just was. He then closes his eyes and inhales, gently swirling the liquid inside. Eyes still closed, he takes a sip.

After a moment, he sighs. “Thank you. This is actually not bad, for a rosé.”

“You’re such a snob,” you smile down at him, irrationally pleased that he seems so pleased.

“Life is too difficult, and too short, to waste on inferior experiences. I only like tasting the best,” he says, bright red eyes opening and fixing on you.

He looks up at you like you should be able to draw some deeper meaning from his words, but you’re tired, warm from the wine, and despite how much he winds you up you were just moments ago, right now you’re strangely relaxed for the first time in days.

“Tell me why you’re here, Sylus,” you say quietly.

“You told me I could use your place when I needed it,” he says, just as softly. He takes another drink, rolls it around in his mouth. Swallows, his adam’s apple dipping.

“And why did you need it this evening?”

“I had some negotiations regarding a business acquisition that I’m considering in this part of Linkon City, and they were abhorrently boring. By the time they were over, I had a splitting headache, and the sunlight didn’t help. It would have been unsafe to operate a motor vehicle under those conditions, so I thought I’d come and wait for it to pass in my newest ‘safe house,’ he answers gravely, as if getting a headache was a perfectly logical reason to crash your evening and take over your couch. “Wouldn’t want to endanger the innocent citizens of Linkon City with reckless driving, now would we?”

“Aren’t all of your shady business deals done under the cover of darkness? Why were you here at a meeting during the day?”

He’s holding the mug in one hand by his fingertips now, along the rim, slowly swirling it. He crosses one long leg over the other and answers languidly. “You’re assuming that today’s business was ‘shady.’”

“So your business today was legitimate?” You’ve been standing for awhile now, and begin to shift from bare foot to bare foot.

He hums in acknowledgement. “My business interests are as varied as they are successful. You insult me by looking so surprised.”

“Well I would never want to insult you,” you drawl. “So that’s it? You got a headache and decided you’d crash my evening?”

He nods, touching his temple and grimacing. “It’s still pretty bad, to be honest.”

“The daylight bothers you that much?” you ask, genuinely curious. You have always assumed that it was the nature of his occupation and perhaps just a proclivity for being a night owl that explained his nocturnal existence, but now you’re wondering if it’s not something deeper that has him avoiding it as much as possible.

You finally decide to give your tired feet a break and perch on the little corner of couch cushion that has been freed for use by Sylus crossing his legs. “If sunlight bothers you that much, what could possibly be so important to come out in it today?”

“Are you really asking about the details of my business ventures, sweetheart?” he asks in what you suspect is feigned astonishment.

“And if I am?”

“Then I’ll tell you,” he responds easily.

“Then I am.”

“I’m in discussions for acquiring a chain of entertainment venues in Linkon City.” He leans his head on the couch’s backrest and lets it roll to the side to keep looking at you. He catches the look of disgust that is no doubt obvious on your face.

“Entertainment venues,” you say flatly.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“What kind of … entertainment venues?” you ask, hating yourself for wanting to know. It’s his business if he wants to buy porn shops, or strip clubs, or brothels—your stomach twists, and you refuse to consider why.

“What kind of ideas are racing through that fascinating brain of yours?” he asks, reaching up and running two of his fingers along your temple, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“Nothing,” you bite out, turning your face away from his touch. You normally dislike how you have a hard time concealing how you’re feeling, but you particularly hate it right now.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “Then, to answer your question, it’s a chain of arcades.”

Your brain grinds to a halt. Did he just say—

“Arcades?”

He nods, and winces, closing his eyes. You’re starting to believe that his head is actually hurting him, and you feel bad for throwing dishware and hot tea at him and refusing to offer him more than the one drink he asked for.

“Why would you be interested in acquiring an arcade chain?”

“Even for odious crime lords, it’s always wise to have a diversified business portfolio.”

You have called him a lot of things both out loud and in your head, but you’d never call him odious. Odorous, perhaps, when he’s sweating heavily after being riddled with bullets. But you have to suppress the urge to chastise him about talking about himself that way.

“Which chain is it?”

“You probably don’t know it,” he says, as if bored with the question. “It’s not a very large chain, but large enough for my interests.”

“Try me! I love going to the arcade when I have some free time. I mean, you’ve seen my plushie collection now that you invited yourself into my house,” you bounce a little on the couch.

“You invited me, kitten. You’ve had a choice, each and every time.”

“Don’t deflect! Answer the question!” You’re quite excited about this. Maybe if it’s a place you know, that has a location nearby, he’ll give you a discount if he ends up buying them? Like an employee discount or something. Is that ethical? You should check the Association’s employee handbook for conflicts of interest.

He squints, as if preparing to evaluate your reaction, and names your favorite place to play the claw machine.

“For real? You’re really going to buy them?”

“I still have to review the contract that was proposed during today’s discussions with my legal counsel, but if negotiations are successful, then yes,” he says, casually examining his nails.

Your excitement is hard to contain, but you suddenly have a troubling thought. “You’re not going to change anything, right? Like, that place is perfect as it is, and the employees are all really friendly and helpful and clearly work hard to keep it really nice,” you rush out, worried that he’s planning to reduce the staff  or try to jack up the prices for a larger profit margin.

He turns to look at you again, and doesn’t answer for long enough that you’re really starting to worry. But then he says softly, “No, I’m not going to change a thing.”

“Oh? So they’re doing well? It’s a solid financial investment?” You’re so relieved, safe in the knowledge that your plushies will continue to be accessible, insofar as claw machines by design allow them to be.

Sylus laughs softly. “Yes, the financials all look good. Considering your interest in the nature of binding agreements, would you like to look over the purchase agreement with me? I have it with me.”

“I’d actually really like to, but I’m starting to get really tired,” you yawn, the relief you were just feeling—the relief of knowing that Sylus wasn’t up to anything that would leave a blood trail today, relief that he didn’t come tonight to try to force you to resonate or finally kill you for refusing to do so, and most importantly, relief that he wasn’t going to acquire and ruin one of the little pleasures in your life—all of it is now drowned out by a heavy feeling of pleasant drowsiness.

“Then I’ll read it to you, until you fall asleep.”

“Huh? You want to stay?”

“Yes,” he says, hauling himself to his feet and offering you his hand. You take it in confusion, and he lifts you to your feet as well. He sets the now empty mug on your coffee table, and then places his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you from behind to your bedroom.

“Why?” you ask, not even thinking to object.

“Headache, remember?” He pushes you gently by your shoulders so that you’re sitting on your bed.

“How can you review legalese when you’re suffering from a headache?” You sink into the softness of the mattress.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he says, nudging you until you’ve scooted to the middle of the bed. “Don’t move. I’m going to get my tablet out of my briefcase.” He disappears through the doorway, and you’re left sitting on your bed, surrounded by all of your plushies, and you have no idea what’s happening. You’re just too tired to argue with him. You really did miscalculate by spending all of your energy trying to get rid of him when he first arrived.

But just because you’re bone-tired, doesn’t mean you’re going to let him boss you around. You get off the bed and pad into the kitchen, passing him as he snaps his briefcase shut, tablet in hand.

“I distinctly recall telling you not to move,” he gripes, pushing up an elegant set of gold framed glasses perched on the uneven bridge of his nose with a middle finger. Huh, you didn’t know he needed glasses to read. He looks almost … cute wearing them, a little less feral. Like a leopard wearing a monocle.

Suppressing the thought of Sylus and cute in the same sentence, you ignore him, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. Then you rummage through your most chaotic kitchen drawer for a few moments, before triumphantly pulling out what you were looking for.

You pad back over to where he’s still watching you, and offer him the glass and the half-used blister pack of over-the-counter painkillers you fished out of your chaos drawer. “Here.”

He looks down at your hands, offering him what you hope is some relief from his headache. His face is impassive, and you’re worried he assumes you’re trying to poison him again. But then he tucks the tablet under one arm, and reaches out with both hands to grasp the glass and the pill pack—except he doesn’t take them from your hands. He envelops yours with his, and pulls you gently closer to him. He somehow manages to pop two tablets out of the pack with his thumb, and they drop into your curved palm. Still holding your hand, he leans down to sweep them from your skin with his tongue. In a complete daze, you watch him lift the glass that you’re still holding to his lips, and he takes a long pull of water, washing the pills down, all the while holding your gaze with his. When he’s done, he slowly lowers your hands again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs “For the benevolence of your heart.” He says it gravely, as if you’ve just saved his life instead of giving him some headache medicine.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, feeling like you’ve been struck by a truck after… whatever that was, feeling the warmth of his tongue in the palm of your hand like he was still licking it. Sylus then turns and heads back to your bedroom.

You set the glass and the now-empty pill pack on the kitchen island, thinking you’ll clean up tomorrow if you manage to sleep tonight, and follow him.

In the bedroom, Sylus sits, leaning back against your headboard, having needed to gently scoop some plushies out of the way to make room. He stretches his legs out in front of him with a sigh. He looks so soft, wrapped in the white hoodie, silver hair rumpled, surrounded by pillows and cute little plushies.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to remember that the man currently sinking into your duvet and wiggling his sock-covered toes in contentment is the same man who straight up exploded the man who dared kidnap you, and then proceeded to kidnap you himself after choking you to the point of passing out. You try to hold both of these truths about him in your mind at the same time, but the image of Sylus dancing you gently through a press of bodies, of the way he caresses your fingers at every opportunity, the soft slide of his tongue along your palm—these images are conquering every other version of him that you know to be true in your mind. You wonder briefly if this is part of some larger scheme of his, and what his endgame could possibly be. But right now, you’re too fucking tired to care.

“What is even happening,” you ask. You’re exhausted, but you still have enough mental reserves to question how you got here, in this situation, with this man migrating from vanquishing your couch to a large part of your bed. “Is the coffee table, or kitchen table insufficient for your needs? Why are you going to review the paperwork here, on my bed?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how quickly you fell asleep on my back on the motorcycle the other night, sweetheart. I’m just reading you a bedtime story featuring limitations of liability and allocation of risk so that you can finally get some sleep again.” He pats his thigh. “Here.”

You just stare at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns, tapping his thigh again with one long finger. Just for that, you glare mutinously at him and fold your arms over your chest.

He sighs again, this time in exasperation, and leans over, firmly lifting you and setting you down so that your head is pillowed against his meaty thigh. He begins to run his fingertips gently up and down the middle of your back. He returns his attention to his tablet. “Now listen carefully,” he commands, before flicking the screen with his thumb and beginning to read in his softly in his deep, rich voice.

But of course you don't. You fall asleep as the skyscrapers light up like a dragon's hoard of jewels in the night sky outside your window, to the sounds of Sylus’s quiet recitation of indeed, a terribly boring contract, and the whisper of his fingers along your skin.

When you wake up, there is another black feather on your pillow, and you are alone. You yawn, once again feeling unbelievably rested despite the chaos Sylus always brings to your door and into your life. You stretch leisurely, spreading your arms wide and turning your head on the pillow, when something catches in your earlobe. You reach up and run your fingers along a stud earring that was not there when you fell asleep. You feel your other earlobe, but it's empty. You grab your phone from the nightstand, knocking over a semiautomatic hand pistol with scarlet flames engraved along the grip that you also don't remember owning onto the floor. You stare at it briefly, ready to commit murder if you check it and find that the safety isn't on. But first things first: you put the phone camera in selfie mode and lift it to your face, but quickly lower it again after confirming that it is indeed a ruby stud in your ear, sparkling cheekily in the morning sunlight.

Later, you're relieved to find that Sylus did actually leave the safety on on your new little ... toy, and you'll find that the mugs have been washed and set neatly away, the empty pack of painkillers placed in the recycling bin. You also see that various takeout containers and other debris that had piled up on a lot of surfaces in your place are also gone, and the countertops are clean, the coffee and kitchen table gleam in the early morning sunlight. You don't notice that the white hoodie is nowhere to be found, until you meet up with Xavier later in the day. He's wearing one that looks exactly like it.

"Thanks for returning the hoodie," he yawns. "But you really didn't have to."

You pause, feeling a thread of panic start to wind its way through your stomach. You decide to just... go with it. "Oh? You found it okay?"

"Yeah, but why did you just leave it hanging from my door handle? You could have rung and come in. I had a new limited edition bag of those cookies you were looking at in the corner store last week. I would have shared some with you... but now I've eaten them all," he admits sheepishly, big blue eyes shimmering with guilt.

You try to think fast. Did Sylus give back the hoodie without washing it? What the fuck was he thinking? He could have been seen! Does this flat have surveillance footage? Does Xavier suspect anything? You realize that you still haven't answered Xavier's question as your panic spirals. "Oh, you know, didn't want to wake you up," you flap your hands, as if you can flap this entire situation right out of your messy life.

"Well, I don't know what you did to it, but it feels brand new. As if it's never even been washed. And you somehow got out the bbq sauce stain that no matter how much I sprayed it with that stain remover stuff would never come out. So you're going to have to teach me some of that laundry magic," he says contentedly, snuggling further into the entirely new hoodie that you now realize Sylus must have somehow, over the course of the night, had hand-delivered to Xavier's place. "Uh huh," you say absently, pulling out your phone to furiously text Mr. Asshat when you see that he has also changed his name in your contact list.

You: What the hell did you do with Xavier's hoodie?"

My Sy: It doesnt matter who it belonged to before me. All that matters is that its mine now.

You: It doesn't even fit you properly! You're too big for it!

My Sy: Nothing a little size training cant fix.

Your jaw drops. He cannot be implying what you think he's implying. This is your filthy mind at work. You decide that you will simply pretend this conversation never happened. Absolutely nothing good can come from trying to figure out what the fuck is going through Sylus's head at any given moment.

You: And 'My Sy?' Really?

My Sy: Its not punny, but it rhymes. And its accurate. Gotta put the phone down for a bit, kitten. Business requires my attention. Ill be seeing you soon.

You stare at his last message for long enough that Xavier asks if you're okay. You're not. You're not okay. You couldn't even bring yourself to ask him about the other earring, or the gun. You just slowly slip your phone back into your cargo pants pocket and try very hard to stop thinking, for the rest of the day.

[chheolie]

i think you might be a little disappointed that they are divorced, so here is the second part

it was a quiet morning, and the sun had barely risen on the horizon when you grabbed your phone to check the messages. as you swiped the screen, one notification caught your attention: "reminder: trip to the beach house - d/n’s birthday." your heart tightened as you read those words. the beach house had always been a special place, full of happy memories, but it also held painful ones, especially from the last trip where you and seungcheol were together as a couple. it was there that your relationship came to an end.

even so, you knew that this trip was important, especially for your daughter, who loved that place more than anywhere else. with a deep sigh, you decided to send a message to seungcheol, something you had been putting off for days, fearing what he might say.

"are you going on the trip?" you wrote, hesitantly, feeling the weight of uncertainty in your words.

minutes that felt like hours passed before his reply arrived. when the phone vibrated, you opened the message with a nervousness you couldn’t hide.

"yes, it’s important for her." his words were direct, but they carried a responsibility that both of you shared. although your marriage had ended, the love for your daughter continued to bind you together in an unbreakable way.

on the day of the trip, seungcheol arrived at your house to pick you up. your daughter, as excited as always, ran into her father’s arms with contagious joy. her smile upon seeing him left no doubt that this trip meant a lot to her. as you watched the scene, a mix of emotions washed over you. it was good to see them together, but his presence always brought back memories of what you had lost.

during the drive to the beach house, the atmosphere in the car was strange. your daughter talked nonstop, excited about the weekend plans, but you and seungcheol barely exchanged words. it was hard to ignore the weight of the past, especially knowing that the last time you were at that house as a family was also when you decided to go your separate ways.

when you finally arrived, your daughter ran inside the house, exploring each room as if it was her first time there. for her, that place would always be magical, full of good memories. you and seungcheol began unloading the car in silence, exchanging brief and uncomfortable glances. neither of you knew quite how to act. the silence was almost suffocating, and both seemed hesitant to say anything that might open old wounds.

the next morning, you woke up early, with the first rays of sunlight gently illuminating the house. there was a quiet stillness in the air, broken only by the soft sound of the waves. as you stepped out of the bedroom, you found seungcheol already awake, sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee in his hands. he seemed thoughtful, lost in his own thoughts. for a moment, you considered going back to the bedroom, but you decided to join him, feeling that perhaps it was the right time to talk about what you both had been avoiding for so long.

sitting beside him, you felt the weight of the silence between you, but also a strange sense of peace. the smell of coffee mixed with the salty sea breeze, creating a nostalgic atmosphere. it was then that memories of the last trip came flooding back. you looked out at the horizon, trying to find the right words.

"it was here that everything fell apart, wasn’t it?" your voice came out low, almost fearful, as if reliving that moment could bring back all the pain you had worked so hard to overcome.

seungcheol sighed deeply, without taking his eyes off the sea. "yes, it was here. and i still think about that day, about the things i could have done differently. not a day goes by without me asking myself where exactly things started to go wrong."

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. there was so much regret in his voice, a pain that mirrored your own. "i think about that too... about how everything could have been different. but i think that at the time, we were both so lost, trying to find our own way, that we ended up drifting apart. i felt so alone, even when you were around. like there was an invisible barrier between us."

he turned to you, his eyes showing a vulnerability he rarely let show. "i never wanted to make you feel that way, y/n. but i was so focused on work, on fulfilling all the responsibilities, that i ended up losing you in the process. i didn’t know how to handle the pressure, and it destroyed us."

before the conversation could deepen further, the soft sound of footsteps coming from the bedroom interrupted the moment. your daughter had woken up, bringing with her the vibrant energy of a child full of expectations for the day. seungcheol stood up with a smile, offering to take her for a walk while you stayed home, resting and processing everything that had been said.

hours later, when seungcheol and your daughter returned, you greeted them with a smile, noticing that they were carrying bags of food. your daughter ran up to you, her eyes shining with excitement. "mommy! look what we brought! we got your favorite dessert!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.

you looked at seungcheol, who gave you a knowing smile, and felt a lump form in your throat. that simple gesture, but full of care, moved you in a way you didn’t expect. for a moment, all the repressed emotions came to the surface, and you found yourself struggling to hold back the tears. but it was useless. the tears began to fall, and you tried to disguise it, smiling at your daughter so she wouldn’t notice.

seungcheol noticed immediately and approached, concerned. "hey, are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of care as he reached out to hold your hand.

you nodded, though your voice faltered as you tried to respond. "yes... it’s just that... this means a lot to me. you both mean a lot to me."

he gently squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed on yours as if he wanted to say something but was choosing his words carefully. the moment was delicate, full of unspoken emotions and feelings that you both were trying to process.

the afternoon unfolded in a series of joyful and simple moments. you cooked together, played on the beach, and for a moment, everything felt like it used to. your daughter’s laughter echoed through the house, and you felt that maybe, just maybe, the weight of the past was finally starting to lift. the atmosphere was light, and it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, you were so nervous about spending the weekend with him.

when the evening came, you prepared the small birthday party with all the love you could muster. your daughter was radiant, and the house was filled with laughter and music. the table was loaded with sweets and snacks that you had prepared together, and the cake, decorated in her favorite colors, sat in the center, waiting to be cut.

you sang "happy birthday," and the smile on your daughter’s face as she blew out the candles was the highlight of the night. she closed her eyes tightly, making a wish, and then, with a determined puff, blew out the candles. the applause and cheers of "hurray!" echoed through the house, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect. you and seungcheol exchanged glances during the celebration, and there was something in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time—tenderness and affection that warmed your heart.

after dinner, with full bellies and light hearts, your daughter finally began to show signs of fatigue. she yawned and rubbed her eyes, making you and seungcheol laugh. "i think it’s time for bed, little one," you said softly, as you picked her up, feeling the comforting weight of her against your chest.

seungcheol followed you to her room, where you both tucked her into bed. she snuggled into the blankets, the smile still present on her lips. "it was the best birthday ever," she murmured before closing her eyes and falling asleep. you both stood there in silence for a moment, watching her sleep, both feeling a mix of emotions—love, nostalgia, and something more, something that was bringing you closer again.

when you left the room, the silence that followed was filled with tension, but it wasn’t a bad tension. it was a tension full of possibilities, of things left unsaid. seungcheol closed the door softly, then turned to you. "she was so happy today. thank you for this, y/n."

"i was happy too, cheol," you replied, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. he had always been "cheol" to you, and in that moment, it felt natural to call him that again.

he smiled, a smile that warmed something inside you. "i missed you," he admitted, his voice low and sincere. "not just because of our daughter, but... you. i missed us."

his words hung in the air, and you knew the moment had come. everything that had been repressed, all the unspoken words and hidden emotions, began to surface. "i missed you too," you confessed, your voice shaky. "but i was so scared, seungcheol... scared that we’d make the same mistakes again."

he took a step towards you, stopping just inches away. "i know i made mistakes, and i’m sorry for all of them. but i never stopped loving you, not for a second. and today, seeing our daughter so happy, here with you... i realized there’s still something between us, something that might be worth fighting for."

you felt your heart race at his words, at the way he was looking at you with such intensity. "are you saying... you want to try again?"

"yes," he whispered, reaching out to gently cup your face. "i want to try again. i want to be a family again. if you still want that too."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. instead, you closed the distance between you, leaning in until your lips met his. the kiss was soft, tentative, but it held the promise of so much more—a new beginning, a second chance. your bodies molded to one another with an ease that felt natural, as if all the scars and distances between you had never existed.

seungcheol pulled you closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist, and you found yourself sinking into that familiar, comforting feeling where the world around you ceased to matter. the warmth of your bodies, the feel of his touch against your skin, all of it stirred memories of times before the divorce, when you were inseparable, when the problems had not yet overshadowed the love you shared.

as the kiss deepened, the passion between the two of you reignited in an almost desperate way, as if you were trying to make up for all the lost time. seungcheol's hands traveled up your back, exploring every curve he knew so well, while you held his face, feeling the softness of his skin under your fingers. there was an urgency in his movements, as if he were trying to imprint himself in your memory, and you felt the same desire to make him understand just how much he still meant to you.

when you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, but neither of you moved away. seungcheol rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, while his fingers remained tangled in your hair. the silence between the two of you was filled with rapid breaths and the sound of hearts beating in unison, as if both of you were trying to absorb what had just happened.

"i love you, y/n. i always have," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, the truth of his words echoing in the space between you.

you felt tears welling up again, but this time they were not of sadness, but of relief, of a renewed hope seeping into your heart. "i love you too, seungcheol. i always have. but i need to know that we won't lose ourselves again."

he opened his eyes, and what you saw there was a determination you had never seen before. his eyes, dark and intense, showed the depth of what he was feeling, the gravity of the moment. "we won't, y/n," he promised, his voice low but filled with conviction. "we'll do this right, together. for us and for our daughter. i won't let you fall again."

the intensity of his declaration made your heart pound harder. you were there, in a vulnerable place, but it was exactly what you both needed—to remember how perfectly you fit, how you were made for each other, and how, despite everything, that love still existed and was strong enough to survive.

the night continued, not with more words, but with gestures. you both let the feelings speak for themselves, rediscovering each other slowly and carefully. seungcheol's hands traced your contours as if he were rediscovering familiar territory, and at the same time, something entirely new. each touch, each caress, reignited something within you both, an old desire that had never disappeared, only lain dormant.

the intimacy between you was familiar, but there was a new layer of depth, an understanding that both of you had changed and grown, and that now you were ready to try again. the walls you had built, the hurts of the past, all seemed to vanish as you gave yourselves to one another.

when you finally nestled in bed, with seungcheol's arms firmly around you, something inside you settled. his chest was the safe haven you had lost, the place where all your fears and uncertainties seemed to disappear. the past was there, yes, but the future seemed brighter than ever, as if all the broken pieces were finally falling into place.

for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that everything would be alright. seungcheol was by your side, and you knew that together, you could overcome anything. he kissed your forehead softly, and the warmth of his touch was the confirmation that this was where you had always meant to be.

i think you would like to be informed that the second part is available. thank you for your support and patience, by the way. ( @kkkthrn @coupsbestleader @minhui896 @bouclesdefeu @lanatheawesome )

[morimemichael]

Jealousy

Slashers reaction to their s/o flirting with someone else/getting compliments from someone else.

This goes for OG!Michael, RZ!Michael, Brahms, Ghostface (Stu), Pyramid Head

WG: jealousy issues, doubtful behavior, a little gore, some NSFW, dev!consent?¿ apart from that I’ll try to include some fluff too (cause I can’t live without it :’D)

OG!Michael

You’d be mesmerized to know how many things Michael can know or find out about you.

That’s how he found out you were extra friendly with a coworker.

Maybe he hasn’t made it clear, but he didn’t have any intentions to share you with other men.

You were his and his alone.

Something inside him snap when he saw your lips kissing goodbye on this guy’s cheek.

To you was something insignificant, but to him?

Ohh boy…

He was jealous.

No need to mention that Michael slaughtered this poor guy.

He got home with you, disappointed, and a little sad for what he saw today.

You were starting to wonder where he was, it was already dark and you hadn’t seen him in all day.

Your question was answered when you felt a large hand going up your back, straight to the back of your neck.

His breathing low and steady as always.

His hand grabbed the back of your neck and squeezed it a little bit, making you move away from the kitchen, but not so far.

“Hey, Michael! Missed u today, where u been?” You asked him, not being aware that he spent almost all day stalking you

He didn’t reply, instead he moved his hand upward and grabbed you by the hair this time, tucking at it so he could whisper in your ear

“That hurts!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t care. You tried to reach his hand holding your hair, but with his free hand he catches yours and puts it behind your back twisting it.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

He tucked at your again in protest

Then you realized that he might have been stalking you throughout the day and saw that little interaction between you and your male coworker. It must be that right?

“I’m s-sorry Michael, I’m sorry, it’s not gonna happen again.” You apologized.

He lowered his head so it leveled with your right ear.

“Mine.” He whispered, his voice raspy but clear. “Say it.”

“Ok…ok, I’m yours. Only yours…” You swore. He let you go, your hands reaching the cold marble of the kitchen.

Latter that night when you both went to sleep, he apologized for the way he treated you earlier.

RZ!Michael

Things with Michael turn different when he’s jealous. First things first, sometimes you can’t tell if he’s jealous or not cause his behavior it’s almost pretty much the same.

You both know each other since you were 9yo. You were the only one who used to play with him, and he’s thankful for that. But your heart was torn apart when he committed that awful crime. You knew his sister and father were shitty, but you never expected Michael to kill them.

When you found out he scaped the mental hospital he was being kept, something inside of you wanted Michael to come see you. You weren’t so wrong after all.

So it’s been a couple of weeks since he’s staying with you, and you know better than to ask him where he goes at night, leaving you alone in the house.

There was this particular time when your ex stopped by and stayed for lunch when Michael was out stalking, as usual. Or so you thought. Turns out that he decided to stalk you this time, and when he saw this foreign man to his knowledge, he snapped.

You didn’t had time to even serve lunch when you heard your ex screaming. “Holy shit!” And he sounded in pain too.

When you came back to the living room Michael had stabbed your ex’s hand to the wooden table that was already prepared to eat.

“Michael…please.., he’s my ex.”

Michael wasn’t sure of your words, so he pulled out painfully the kitchen knife of your poor ex’s hand, a pained moan scaped his mouth. The he grabbed the doomed guy by his neck and looked at you again.

“Michael, Michael, please…I swear he’s my ex. Please!!!” You begged him.

Michael decided enough was enough and let your ex go, but not before pointing you to go upstairs with his knife. You obeyed.

Once you both were there he grabbed you by the throat this time and squeezed a little bit. Now you were scared. He tucked a little bit just to let you know that if he want to, he could kill you any minute.

He bend you over the edge of the bed so your stomach was facing towards the bed, and your ass up.

“how romantic” You mocked. To be honest this wasn’t the first time you two fucked. But this? Holy fuck, this was totally different. You weren’t even sure if you’re disliking this.

“I’m not sharing.” He growled at your ear. He took out your pijamas and panties with one hand, with the other he took out his mask. He positioned himself with your entrance. Spit a little bit his cock to use it as lube.

He grabbed you by your neck again and put it the tip of his cock.

“Michael, I’m not even-” You protested, reaching your right hand to his leg to try to stop him, but he grabbed it and pulled it against him so you were closer to his chest.

“Shut up, and fucking take it.” That’s all he said before thrusting all the way into you. He set a brutal pace and all he could hear was your screams and moans of pleasure.

“Fu-uck Michael!! Don’t stop, don’t stop!!” You moaned. He got closer to your ear again.

“This is what you get for making me jealous.”

You thought you could make him jealous more often.

BRAMHS HEELSHIRE

“Brahms!” You moan your lungs out. He had you lay down facing the bed, and now he was fingering you like his life depends on that.

And all for what? Well, you told Malcom earlier that he had a nice hair cut today. Apparently, Brahms didn’t like that.

He slapped your ass with his free hand “Your mine, mine!” He growled on your ear.

“Okay…okay, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…I bet you are.” He stated, his fingers moving faster now.

You were reaching the point of your climax when he stopped, and pulled at your hair.

“You wanna cum?” He asked. You nod and hummed. “Well, beg for it.” He slapped your ass again.

“Please…I’m so close.” You begged vaguely.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He replied, voice deeper now, filled with pure lust.

“Brahms, please…please I wa-I need to cum, please! I won’t do it again I promise!”

His fingers thrusting into your core in a brutal animalistic way. That was enough to make you cum that night.

Once you were finish he grabbed you by the hair again and said “if I see you again with him, his dead. You hear me?” He question.

“Yeah-yeah.” That’s all that would come out from your mouth.

PYRAMID HEAD

This big guy had never talked and never will, so if something just bothers him he will let you know in other ways.

Like when, for example, James complimented your bracelet one day. He was pissed, but he didn’t say anything, not that he could. So what did he do instead?

Well, he fallowed James all around Silent Hill making his life more miserable if that’s was even possible.

You weren’t exactly pissed at his behavior but you certainly didn’t like it. So next time he sees you you’ll let him know.

To your fortune that time was right now.

“Is tormenting James even necessary, Pyramid?” You asked annoyed.

He lowers his head and shakes no.

“So, why are you doing it?” He couldn’t answer you knew it so you asked him again. “Is it because you’re jealous of James?”

He shakes his head no several times, trying to hide the obvious feeling .

“Yeah…you definitely are.” You said.

He lowered his head again and was ready to leave when you grabbed his large hand.

“You can stay, it’s okay. It happens.” You smiled at him. From under his large pyramid, something like a tentacle came out to caress your chin.

“Promise me you won’t do it again, ok?”

He just nods and walk away peacefully.

GHOSTFACE

Since you two finished watching that movie, you wouldn’t stop talking about the killer.

How he was using a kitchen knife to kill people on the movie, or how he used his own hands to choke someone. You could notably see he was pissed at your comments of appreciation.

“Oh come on! I’m just messing around!” You laughed at him. He couldn’t be mad just because of that right?

“Well, go messing around Michael Myers then, perhaps he will burie his knife in you.” Stu said back.

“Stu come on! It’s just a movie!” You laughed a little bit

“If it’s just a movie don’t make me jealous!” He confessed.

“Jealous?” You giggle, then tried to hug him.

“N-no, no, you go hug Michael, he needs it more than I do.” Stu’s voice faking a sad tone. “Or go kiss his mask instead, cause apparently you don’t like mine anymore….ouch.” He continued.

“Well, if you say so…then I’m heading to Haddonfield then!” You said smiling to wait his reaction.

“No babe, don’t leave, I was just kidding.” He pouted, grabbing your hand so you wouldn’t leave.

“Ok..I promise to not saying anything like that again about Michael, if you promise to not get jealous.” You offered.

“Deal.” Stu replied smiling.

“I’m starving, wanna order some pizza?” He offered.

“Hell yeah.” You said, pizza didn’t sound that bad.

“Besides…I like your costume better.” You confessed.

“Ohh…” Stu was flattered, and couldn’t help but blush a little bit.

After that, you ate your pizza and cuddle all night, you being the smaller spoon. You quickly fell asleep in Stu’s warm arms.

Well I needed a little bit of humor with ghostie okay? 😭 I hope you liked it! See ya around 😊

[sukunas-wife]

hhey, I accidentally came across your channel and read everything that was there, it's too good. could you write a story about how Yuji grows up? how he starts fighting with opponents or something like that :D?

I suck at writing fighting I’m sorry 😭 I’m terrible honestly so I did it in a different way I apologize in advance 🥺🤍

Yuji growing up UNDER SUKUNA IS CRAZY because 1 Ryomen’s cursed presence is so strong that Yuji’s cursed energy happened to be tied up all cute and pretty with a little cursed energy ribbon made of Sukuna’s cursed energy.

The integration of the two led Yuji to be able to use Malevolent Shrine

🥹 Made his daddy proud the day the three of you were outside and someone tried to ambush your little family, Yuji’s eyes widened seeing his dad calmly bring his hands together “Domain Expansion, Malevolent Shrine.”

The world flashed before Yuji’s eyes with the sound of a bell and drip. It was after that moment when everything was clear little ⅘ year old Yuji pushed his hands together mimicking his father trying to be cool “Domain expansion! Malevolent Shrine!”

Neither you nor Sukuna expected it to work, until it did-

There was Sukuna protecting you from Yuji’s unstable barely registering domain. After everything was said and done. The two of you couldn’t help but look at each other. “Did… did he” Sukuna let you go, “Yuji..”

Yuji ran at his dad with the biggest smile, screaming “did you see that!? Did you!? Did you!?” When Sukuna picked him up, throwing him up into the air, “I did! We need to talk about your little domain.”

That’s where he started his training under his father because he knew no one else could train him as well as he could. It evolved to Yuji being able to use his own energy in fighting. It was the cutest thing seeing your son's little fist while he punched away at some poor little punching bag with his father there mocking him to get him angry to put more curse behind his hits.

“Aw, this sack of sand too much for you brat? Move- I’ll show you how to really put some curse behind it.”

Yuji watched how his dad pinned the punching sack to post and took a fighting stance, in his eyes he could see the red cursed energy glowing skeins his fathers fists and when he struck it was over. The post and sack were nothing, “I WANNA DO THAT!”

It was a beautiful and cursed sight, Ryomen Yuji, (the name changes based on how my brain works I’m sorry 🥹) , he had softer features, but he had developed similar markings to his father. The only thing keeping him from being his father was the vast size difference. He had even taken to using a robe similar to his dads older style.

Ryomen Yuji wasn’t a tyrant, but if he turned out, he very much could be just a cruel man as his father.

Especially when Jujutsu Sorcerer started to trail after him thinking if they could kill the son the father would bend.

They laid corrected in their own pools of blood.

His first solo fight was when he had turned 15 and he asked if he could go to the town to gay a few things of his own. You were weary feeling something was bound to happen, Sukuna pulled you into his side assuring you there is no doubt in his mind Yuji would be able to take care of himself, he would know, he trained him for the last eleven years.

So you let him leave, he was surrounded not too soon before reaching the village, “IT'S RYOMEN SUKUNA!”

His eyes were quick to move around the group “FOOL THAT'S NOT RYOMEN SUKUNA THAT'S-… even better, Ryomen Sukuna may be a monster but even then this boy looks well enough to know someone has to give a damn about him, we need to restrict him.”

There was Yuji imbuing his cursed energy into his fists, it was a scene to watch how he could punch through a man's chest like silk tofu. How easily he could take a man’s head in his hand digging his fingers into their back around their spine to separate them entirely.

He was ágile, being attacked from both sides by men with cursed tools. Blades on chains, swinging in opposing directions grazing his chest and back as he turned to doing his best to avoid them, he took one chain wrapping it around his hand and turning his back to that man pulling the chain I’ve this shoulder sending the man flying into the air. He turned facing the second who was still running at him catching him by taking his face in his hand and crushing his face in , taking the 2nd man’s blade he spun the chain around before slinging the blade at the falling sorcerer piercing his skull leaving him to fall dead to the ground. He carried on with brute force until another wave of Sorcerer's came, he was huffing but he was thrilled, every year of training, every technique and day spent bleeding, fighting and pouring every ounce of energy and raw brute strength and cursed energy.

“Domain Expansion” it felt like time froze, “Malevolent Shrine.”

Yuji’s domain wasn’t as vast as his fathers, but was equally intimidating. There he stood on the pile of skulls in front of the shrine, hands pressed together, “You will see true power.”

It felt like the domain shook when he uttered the simple word “..cleave…” It was a sure hit taking out every living being in the area.

—- —- —- —-

But of course, like father, like son. When Sukuna was going to leave you to go tend to “business” Yuji begged to go, leaving you home with Anya and for a girls week which turned to a girls month.

During this month your boys had learned one thing in battle, they could merge their domains in a way no one else would ever be able to.

Sukuna had heard rumours of some prestigious clan that wanted his head, and if its head they wanted, he decided he’d personally deliver it personally into their city and into their pathetic little lives. Why wait for the fight to come to his home and put his little family at risk when he could go to the fight and strike while the steel is hot and brittle.

That was until Yuji started to beg to go, no matter how many times Sukuna would tell him no he would persist he go with his father. Finally after talking to you, and even when you didn’t want to let him go, Yuji begged and begged using his little puppy eyed beg you caved and said if either of them came back hurt or didn’t come back at all you would remarry and forget about both of them. It was a bluff but the jealousy was enough to make Sukuna squint at you before whacking Yuji on the back of his head lightly, “Let’s go brat, the sooner we get this done the sooner we come back home and your mother won’t roll in her grave.”

Still Sukuna pulled you into him by your waist and kissed you making Anya and Yuji exaggeratedly “eewww” before he left.

They warped quickly now that Sukuna was in a snappy mood, “pfft, remarry, that woman couldn’t find a man worth one of my- oh?”

It was as if the invasion was anticipated, Sukuna used a lower arm to push Yuji behind him, “Stand back brat, I said you could come, I never said you could fight.” It was an instant, every archer and swordsmen surrounding the two had either been cleaved or lit a light. ”Now we’re really going to have some fun.”

Yuji trailed after his father watching how he barreled through everything and everyone with no regard, his actions were quick and precise. He made their way straight to the centre of the shinden-zukuri with ease. Yuji was astounded, his father would always make minimal movement with maximum damage, but this was different, he was just showing off. They were surrounded and the room was suffocating with the large amounts or pressure from cursed energy flowing. He backed up to Sukuna, and they stood back to back, Yuji was ready to fight, Sukuna was amused and having the time of his life, he would win and there was no doubt in his mind. The two fought in a way that reminded Sukuna of the day you fought by his side. A side of you not even his children would ever know. They danced in circles, taking life after life until they were forced closer, as if they had the same unspoken idea both of them expanded their domain not letting the other know.

The world shook in the wake of the combined domain, the humans witnessing the ethereal domain would die without fail.

The shrines combined to make a full size Sanmon gate, strikingly similar to the former shrine. The only difference was that Sukuna stood there like the god Vishnu, Two hands holding his domain symbol just above Yuji’s height level, the other two holding his tools up and on display, Yuji was a step below him with hands in the matching domain form. The two shared a single brain cell in that moment, “Malevolent Temple.”

It had no barrier, it turned into an open space, the hits were guaranteed. In the end when every living thing in the vicinity was reduced to nothing and the domain closed, it came to show even the former shinden-zukuri has been reduced to dust on the ground.

What he would’ve stretched over days of fun they had completed in mere seconds. But now that his eyes had been opened to this new found power he was intrigued and needed to know more.

This led to Sukuna dragging Yuji around with him to test the limits of their new found glory for weeks until he finally allowed Yuji to return home. You weren’t frantic when they returned because Uraume had calmed your beating heart once a week with the messenger birds you had begged him to take along. But you were scared because Sukuna did not slip into bed as he usually would, instead he scooped you up, threw you over his shoulder and brought you outside with him, “Let’s go woman.” Was all you heard as you were shaken awake and met with the morning's cold air, “kuna, love, I’m so tired.”

You felt Sukuna land a smack on your rump, “Just five minutes and I’ll carry you back.” You did your best to look back at him and you caught him looking back at you with a smug smile, “fine.”

He sat you on the steps to your home, where you saw Yuji, he had that look of excitement, his eyes were gleaming the way they would as a child when he’d see his father use a new technique.

“Mom! Mom! You’re going to love this!” You smiled as Sukuna rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand letting it slip from his hold as he made his way back to Yuji.

Tag List: Permanent because this doesn’t feel very squishy 🥺

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz

@simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[fallingdownhell]

Hello!! If your requests are open do you have any plans on writing something similar to genshin men forgetting your birthday but with different characters? :D maybe diluc and/or kaeya for example

Sure can do! Angst will always be my favourite!

Characters Included: Diluc; Kaeya

Content: gender neutral reader; hurt/no comfort; angst; the boys don't realize their mistakes; cursing; not proofread yet

Word count: 1,3k words

Enjoy the heartbreak<3

Diluc

Being with Diluc was exhausting sometimes. And sometimes, it felt like you were in no relationship to begin with. You knew that protecting the city and it's people was important to Diluc, but.. sometimes you just wished to be his number one...

Sometimes, you really wonder how you managed to stay in this relationship for three long years without any issue.. then again, its not like it has always been this way.

The first two years were amazing. Diluc was an attentive lover, always concerned about your well being, that you felt comfortable with him. Only recently did that seem to change. He had less and less time for you, always coming back home in the dead of night and left before you woke up in the morning.

You tried to deal with it somehow, since talking to him about it was apparently no option, seeing as he always pushed you away when you tried approaching the topic with him.

But today... today might just be your last straw..

In all the three years with him, Diluc has always made it a point to make your birthday a most special occaison. Telling you weeks in advance to clear this day up since he wanted to spend it with you. He always planned something different, but you loved it each time.

This year, however, nothing came from him. No notice to keep your calender clean, nothing.

You thought, that when you spotted him in bed next to you this morning, maybe you just thought wrong and he wanted to surprise you.

But when he woke up, no words of gartulations left his mouth. Instead, he simply got up, got dressed and went out again, but not before telling you that he would be back for dinner tonight.. which was a rare occaison as well.

You tried so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt.. going about your day at the mansion, going on a walk in the nice, afternoon soon as people from the Dawn Winery congratulated you for your special day. You thanked them, while trying to keep your composure.

Nothing meant anything to you when the person closest to you didn't remember it themselves...

Night came, and with it came dinner time. Adelinde took the time out of her day to prepare a full on five course meal, all consisting of your favourite dishes. You told her multiple times that this wasn't necessary at all, but she wouldn't have it. So, as fate would have it, you were now enjoying the food... however, alone.

Diluc has yet to show up, but not wanting to let the food get cold, you decided to just start eating.

Later on, you realized that the dissapointment washing over you didn't even face you anymore, having expected this outcome already.

So, you ate quietly, until the door to the mansion opened, revealing the owner of Dawn Winery himself.

"Diluc!", you exlaimed, standing up from your seat, a smile on your lips. He came after all...

But he immediately put a damper on your mood as he raised his hand, a deep sigh escaping him as he threw his coat off.

"Please, not now, (name). I'm exhausted."

With that, he went directly for the staircase, not even acknowloding anything else around him.

"But.. don't you wanna join in for dinner? There's a lot left and-!"

"I said, not now!", he suddenly yelled at you.

You were shocked, looking at him like a deer caught in headlight. Regret briefly washed over him for raising his voice at you, but he chose not to say anything. Instead, he turned around again and made his way up the stairs where he immediately went into his office, looking himself away from you again.

You watched after him, slumping back into your chair as he was out of sight. You tried so desperately to hold back your tears but they came crashing out of you as soon as you saw Adelinde leave the kitchen, a big birthday cake in her hands.

She gave you a weak, sympathetic smile as she sat down next to you on a chair, patting your back gently as you let the dissapointment sink in..

Kaeya

You were maneuvering your way through the many people in your living room, trying to get to your balcony, hoping to get some fresh air and clear your thoughts.

Lisa planned this whole thing perfectly. Keeping you busy the entire day with her while everyone else was preparing your surprise birthday party in your home.

You had not expected anything like that, especially not after the dissapointment you recieved this morning already. Kaeya has never once failed to remember any special day during your relationship. Be it a birthday, an anniversary or anything like that. You never had to remind him, he just always knew and was prepared.

So, naturally, you didn't feel the need to remind him that your birthday was coming up, thinking that he was already aware of that fact.

However, when you woke up this morning, everything was far too normal. He was still sleeping beside you, cuddling with you for a few more minutes, before you both got up and he left for work.

No congratulations, no gift, no nothing. He didn't say anything at all...

You were feeling kinda down after that, slumping around in your home.. That's when Lisa came over and practically forced you out the house. She congratulated you, then took you shopping, to lunch and so on.

She kept you busy the entire day and the incident with you boyfriend went farther and farther to the back of your mind.

That was, until you returned back to your house. Suddenly, the lights switched on before you could even do anything. People jumping out from all around, yelling "Surprise!", at you, while laughing at your flabbergasted reaction.

A surprise party.. now Lisa's behaviour made sense to you. Your mood lightened up, thinking that it must have been Kaeya's doing and planning.

You thanked everyone that came up to congratulate you, making small talk with them while trying to scan the people for your boyfriend. When you didn't see him anywhere, you went to ask Lisa about him, but she said she had no idea where he was..

This dampened your mood again, so you decided to get some fresh air, maybe that would help cool you off again.

As you were outside on the balcony, you saw Kaeya approaching your shared home. Excited, you went inside again to meet him at the front door. But when you opened it, you were met with a seemingly bad mood from your boyfriend.

Before you could ask him what was going on, he already started complaining. "Seriously? Are you for real?"

"What?", you just said, confused on what he meant. But that just seemed to frustrate Kaeya even more.

"So, everyone leaves work, leaving all of it for me to deal with, just because you decided to throw a fucking party? I've had a fucking exhausting day, (name). How do you expect me to relax with this many people here, huh?"

"I-It wasn't my-!"

"Oh, don't give me that crap! Who else if not you would plan such a thing, and in our house as well? You know what, I'm gonna leave. I'll sleep somewhere else for the night!"

And before you could say anything else, he had already turned on his heels and was walking away. You had no idea what this was about and what caused his outburst..

You were so confused about what was going on, but you felt the tears running down your face as you fell on your knees right there at the open front door while the party was still going behind you...

[neontokyoo]

Hello I saw your post about fic request and I'm here to humbly ask you if you'd write anything with Halsin and a pregnant partner (Tav) after the epilogue party.

@amorgansgal and me both wrote a little something about how he would be at the party and that kinda brought my thoughts back to that whole thing.

I'm thinking some domestic fluff, or maybe how the companions would react, would they visit/ come over to care for the soon-to-be-growing-family, who's gonna be the cool uncle and/ or wine aunt and the likes of that.

Of course I'd also take anything with smut, I'm enthusiastically on board with anything Halsin related :D

Anyway, if you get around to writing a lil something, I'd be very happy! <3

of course! I love my bear-man! This is quite possibly one of my cutest requests I have ever gotten. Hopefully my heart is still functioning in one piece by the time I finish this 😂

Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav Genre: fluff Summary: After finally defeating the Netherbrain Tav finds herself expecting Halsin’s baby. Which, unfortunately, the rest of the party was able to find out about fairly quickly. Warnings: possible mentions of (bear) sex and bg3 spoilers.

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Everyone at the party after the final battle knew that there was something different about Tav. They couldn’t quite wrap their heads around it, but they could tell something was going on.

Perhaps it was the extra weight she gained, or the way she waddles when she walks. But they definitely knew something was up. Especially when Halsin was beaming every time he saw Tav, or occasionally wrapping his arms around her waist with his hands resting on her stomach. It wasn’t until then that they realized what it was.

Tav was pregnant.

“Hmm, do you think that the child would come out as a bear or a person?” Astarion snickered. “That sounds like quite the interesting—and painful—delivery for Tav.”

“That’s enough of that.” Gale grumbled, elbowing the vampire’s shoulder. “I highly doubt their offspring will be a bear. Halsin isn’t even completely a bear.”

“No, but he’s a man-bear,” the vampire replied matter-of-factly. “Who knows, maybe they got down and dirty in bear form,” he shrugged, “it’s always a possibility.”

“That’s not a weird way to think about your friends at all,” Shadowheart muttered. “But I’m pretty sure their baby is not going to be a bear. They might not even be a Druid like Halsin is, so the chances of them being a bear are pretty slim.”

“I love how we’re arguing about whether the child is a bear or a person,” Karlach chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Usually it’s an argument about whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

The group continued their banter, only to go completely silent when the couple in question came in to view.

The couple held hands as they talked to each other in the distance, close enough for the group to stop talking so they’re not overheard, but far enough for the group to not hear their conversation.

Tav looked at her boyfriend, laughing to herself as she glanced over at the rest of her companions. “Do you think they know?”

Halsin couldn’t help but smirk as he laughed along with her. “They definitely know about it if they’re arguing over if it’s going to be a bear or not.”

“Then there’s no point in telling them?”

The elf shook his head as he looked at the group with an amused expression, visible fear on their faces as they realized Halsin knew what they were talking about. “No, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

A sudden light blush spread across Tav’s cheeks as the realization hit her. “But how in the nine hells do they know that I fucked you as a bear?!”

Halsin shrugged.

“You guys are just so fucking loud, we could hear the roars from camp!” Astarion shouted, overhearing parts of the conversation as they got closer.

The couple burst out laughing.

“Well, looks like we’ll need to go even deeper into the woods next time.” Halsin chuckled.

“If we go any deeper we might run out of woods!” Tav exclaimed.

Halsin smiled, turning to meet Tav’s gaze as he pulled a strand of hair out of her face and pulled her in for a quick kiss.

“At least we know that it’s not a bear baby.”

Extra headcanons:

The pregnancy was planned and Tav and Halsin have been thinking about it for a long time before they decided it was something they really wanted to do.

Astarion and Gale are constantly fighting over the baby after it’s born.

Karlach, Astarion, and (possibly) Minthara are the rich wine aunts who like to gossip with the kid about all the drama going on in their life as they get older.

Gale, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart are the cool uncles who spoil the child and teach them how to defend themselves.

Halsin has a soft spot for girls. I personally just see him being the biggest girl dad.

when the baby was born, Tav and Halsin had to distance themselves from the rest of the party because they were never able to see their child when they had all their companions together.

Gale teaches the child magic.

Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach teach the child how to fight.

Astarion teaches them how to sneak around, steal without getting caught, and break into locked doors.

Shadowheart teaches them how to help protect themselves and the people around them

Tav and Halsin try to teach their kid that half of what they’re being taught is not okay. They don’t want their children sneaking around and picking fights 😂

[g4l4xy-qu33n]

Jax SFW Alphabet

A/N: These are all my personal headcanons, so pls don't get mad and say that my headcanon isn't the exact same as yours! This was written with afab reader in mind, but no genitalia is described, nor is there use of any gender-specific pronouns for the reader! (If you find one, pls let me know!) No body type describe for the reader either, this can be read by all! Proofread by nobody <3

Warnings: Mentions of smutty/nsfw activities, but not highly descriptive and detailed. Light use of swearing. (D1ckhead and similar) Also this is very long.

Anyway, let's get right into the show list!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Let’s just say Jax isn’t the most affectionate of people (rabbits?)

He shows affection towards you with relentless teasing, jokes, and pranks, which are the same as (or worse than) the ones he pulls on the other members of the circus.

He is a sucker for long, drawn out make-out sessions in your (or his) room when nobody else is around, though. 

And if you ask him nicely, he’ll probably cuddle you. On the condition that no one else is around, and it’s in private

Pet names. Jax lives for calling you pet names. And the ideas for pet names always come from what you are. If you’re a rabbit, you’ll get called his bunny, honey-bunny, etc. If you’re a dog you’d get puppy, if you’re a cat you’d get kitten. If you’re a doll of sorts, you’ll get doll, or dollface, and the list goes on and on. 

Jax loves to flirt with you. Sure, pet names are a way of flirting, but he also just likes the blatant, generic flirts too.

Teasing. This man is such a tease. If you stumble, he’ll ask how your trip was. If you rant about an interest, he’ll make fun of you for it. In a kind enough way of course.

He also does this thing he calls “surprise kisses”, which is when he would kiss you anywhere at anytime, whether you expect it or not. It’s usually on the cheek, or forehead, but he’s done your mouth and neck before, just to tease and fluster you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Having Jax as a best friend would be of course full of jokes, tricks, pranks, you name it. 

He’s a natural friendly-flirter. He can and will flirt with you, whether you like it or not. Him flirting doesn’t mean he necessarily has feelings though, just depends on your status of partnership.

And he’ll tease you, call you pet names, all that fun stuff.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Jax would protest cuddles at first, but once you’re in his arms, he’ll snuggle for hours on end.

His favourites ways to cuddles include anything where he’s holding you. One he likes specifically is when he’s on his back and your head is on his chest, arms wrapped around his middle, his long arms draped casually on top of you, so you're pretty much lying on top of him.

That, or a similar one, the difference being that you’re next to him instead, with one arm draped over him and one leg hooked over him, head in the crook of his neck. 

Another one of his favourites is when you’re both on your sides, and you’re facing each other, your head buried in his chest. He only likes it because he feels protective with the way you’re curled up. (He also likes the intertwined legs but shhh)

And on the very VERY rare occasion of when he just wants to be snuggled, he’ll do any of these, but reversed so he's being cuddled instead of doing the cuddling.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Eh. I doubt he’d consider settling down. If it’s something you really really REALLY wanted, he’d think about it, but for the most part, no, I don’t think Jax would want to settle down. 

I also feel like he’d flat out refuse to cook or clean, unless you were sick or something.

He can’t cook, he’ll probably burn the digital world to the ground.

And Jax would always flat out refuse to clean. Nope, he’s never touching a cleaning supply in his digital life. Usually, he’ll make someone else do it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Jax had to break up with his S/O, he’d be straight forward, and just say that he needs/wants to break up with them, no matter how serious the reason is.

He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it at all, and depending on how much he loved his S/O, he might feel bad about it later.

If he really did love you, he’d sob to himself in his room, but apart from that, he’d seem unaffected by your absence.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Honestly, is being married in the digital world even a thing? Who knows, I certainly don’t.

“Woah woah woah. Slow down. You wanna what?!” Is what Jax would probably say if you brought up the idea of marriage.

Being in the digital world, marriage wouldn’t make much of a difference to the relationship, so he doesn’t really see it as necessary. You see each other every day anyway…?

Jax would probably never propose unprompted, so be sure to remind him if you really do want to get married. (Or just propose to him yourself if that works for you.)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Jax is a very rough person. (Rabbit??)

He’d be quite physical with you, purposefully bumping into you, knocking you over, just straight up pushing you over and shoving you, leg sweeps if he feels like it, etc. 

He’d probably just randomly pick you up out the blue, too. You’d be standing in the circus and suddenly scoop! And you’re in his arms, bridal style.

But don’t get mad at him, it’s all for the jokes.

When it comes to how gentle he is emotionally, let’s just say you’ve almost never seen this guy cry.

Around the other circus members he’s loud, obnoxious and a general dickhead. Around you? He’s very much the same. But with a little less obnoxious, and a little more cocky.

I feel like he would only cry if something terrible happened to you, like if you abstracted or similar, but even then it would be hard for the tears to come out.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs, but he would never say that in front of anyone, not even you, if the relationship is new.

You only know he likes hugging you because of the way he holds you tight and close, and the way his smirk turns a little more into a sincere smile when you’re in his arms. 

He’d take your hugs any time of the day, any day of the week, any week of the month. (I could go on, but won’t, to spare you your sanity.)

When it comes to how often he initiates hugs, well… that differs. You can never really guess when you’re going to get hugged by him, to be honest.

If he’s feeling playful, he’d scare you by hugging you from behind when you least expect it. If he just wants to hold you, he’ll just approach from behind politely enough. If he’s horny however… that’s a different story completely ;)

Jax’s hugs are amazing. The way this tall rabbit's long arms wrap around you is enough for you to decide that you never want him to let go. 

While hugging, Jax won't hesitate to start running his hand down your head, or through your hair - if you have any.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes Jax forever for him to say the L-word. Heck, you may even have to remind him to say it every so often.

I feel like he’d only say it once he really trusts you, and really feels like you’re the one he trusts the most.

I imagine he’d say it in the most dramatic situation possible. (He’s a sucker for drama)

Picture this: you’ve just gone through one of the most scary, traumatising ‘adventures’ that Caine puts you through. You’re with Jax, calming down, and he just whispers “I love you”. You’re too stunned to speak, but you just smile, looking at him and whispering an “I love you too, Jax.” back, ending the moment with a sweet kiss.

(If you imagine something else too that’s cool. My brain just came up with that.)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

At first, Jax would get incredibly jealous if you’d spend more than twenty minutes without him. He’d start getting annoyed and playing mean and potentially dangerous pranks on the circus member(s) you were hanging out with.

Thankfully, you’d realise pretty quickly what’s up, calling him out on it and talking it through.

After that, he won’t show his jealousy if you’re hanging out a lot with the rest of the gang, but he definitely would still get jealous, and he’d show it in… unconventional ways. Like in bed. Or with pranks that only affect you, but still make you laugh.

Once the relationship has been going on for a while, his jealousy would be mostly non-existent. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I’ll say it now, and I’ll say it again. Jax absolutely lives for kisses. 

He’d take any chance he can to press his lips against you, whether it’s against your lips, or if he’s kissing your cheeks or forehead. Or literally anywhere else.

Jax loves to kiss you anywhere, but he does have a few favourites, which include (in no particular order):

Your lips. He loves to kiss your lips, even if it can be a little strange, with his teeth. But you aren’t complaining, you get to kiss Jax!

Your forehead or the top of your head. As he’s (probably) taller than you, the top of your head is easily accessible.

Your neck. Ohh he loves to kiss your neck. Sure it’s usually sexual, but he also does it sometimes just to mess with you. He may even bite, who knows ;) (if he open his mouth lmao)

The back of your hands. This is rare, but he likes it because he gets to act all dapper like a gentleman, when he’s really not.

Your thighs. Now this one’s purely sexual, but he still loves to do it because he gets to stall and tease what’s to come.

If you want to kiss him, the best places have to be his lips, cheeks or neck. Just make sure to pull him down by his overalls first, he might be a bit too tall for you to initiate kisses with.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Jax is absolutely horrible when there’s children around. Thank god there isn’t any in the Amazing Digital Circus. 

He has no filter, and would probably just start swearing in front of them, too. 

Not to mention his pranks. Jax would probably pull a nasty prank on a kid, not realising they’d actually be scared of it.

Jax would be especially bad if the kid(s) are emotional or crying. He would just be standing there, awkwardly while this kid just bawls.

And he’d probably snap at the kids if they’re too annoying for his liking.

So pretty much, don’t ever make Jax be around kids, and don't every put kids around Jax 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

As both the moon and the sun are out at the same time in the Digital World, what even is night and day, really?

Regardless, mornings with Jax are usually spent in one of two ways:  

Getting up early to prank people while they’re still asleep and in their rooms, 

or cuddling each other in either person’s room.

And no matter which one you choose, it’s guaranteed to be fun.

And of course there’s a special third option, but that’s not for this alphabet list ;)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Jax are more or less the same as mornings: three things you could be doing.

Playing pranks on people so that they’ll never get to relax (haha)

Or snuggles in either persons room.

And as before, there’s a third option that isn’t exactly meant for this list.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Technically, there isn’t much to reveal, what with being stuck in the digital world where you can’t remember your past human life.

But if there was things to reveal, I feel like it would take a while for Jax to open up. 

He’s stubborn, and probably a bit of a jackass. (Haha get it? Jax the Jackass? I’m so funny/s (sarcasm))

He wouldn’t answer any questions you ask him until he really knows you. Like really knows you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Jax doesn’t have an ounce of patience.

You’re a minute late to an adventure? He’s coming to your room to get you.

You say something like “be there in a minute.” And it's a second over a minute and you're not with him yet? He’s looking for you.

In all honesty, the only reason he’s so impatient with you is because you’re nice to him, and he cares about you.

But he’d never admit that out loud.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Jax has a weird thing for the details.

He won’t remember things like your birthday or your favourite colour, but he’ll remember that one specific story you told him, and what day and exact time you said it.

But it’s not like either of you can even remember anything from the human world anyway, so what does memory really matter when you can just choose a new favourite colour, or a new birthday?

To be honest I doubt he’d remember your (new) name for the first few days as well.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He has many favourite relationship moments, but the first few that come to mind when brought up are:

Your first kiss. He only remembers this specifically because it made him realise that there can be true happiness in the digital world. (He also liked that it evolved into something more steamy. Don’t accuse him of that though, he’ll get mad.)

When you pranked him for the first time. He just thought it was really funny and cute that you used his own tricks against him, and that you’re learning from the best. (Him, of course.)

When he pranked you for the first time. This one’s self explanatory, he just likes pranking people.

And your arrival into the Digital Circus, because that's when he met you for the first time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Jax is super protective, but only because he doesn’t want you abstracting.

If you were in any danger, he’d come and hold you close until you start complaining.

He’d wrap his long arms around you, and probably rest his head on yours, or your shoulder.

If any of the other circus members were to get mad at you for something, he’d immediately rush to your side as soon as he finds out, holding you close and practically growling at whoever got mad at you.

And if anyone else tried to lay a hand on you, there wouldn��t be much you could do to stop Jax yelling at them.

He’s just a jealous guy.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

The amount of effort he puts into your relationship depends on whether he finds the activity interesting or not. 

Because if he thinks something is boring or tacky, prepare yourself for the disappointment of him declining your offer.

But if he does seem to find something interesting, he’ll go all out just for you.

Like for your anniversary. Think digital flowers, a digital suit for him, a digital dress for you, and a digitally candlelit digital dinner, probably at that restaurant Caine was in that was full of NPC’s from the pilot. 

And if you're happy, he'll screw your brain out later, too.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

If you don’t like his pranks, then that definitely counts as a bad habit in your book. If you don’t mind the pranks/don’t care about them then you’re probably indifferent.

I feel like he growls. I don’t know when or why, but I feel like he has a bad habit of growling when he snarls.

One bad habit he hates but you probably love is the little tiny squeaking noises he makes when he’s really happy. That’s something you can tease him about. (But hey, he can’t help that he’s a rabbit, and rabbits make squeaking noises)

To be honest, what counts as a bad habit and a good/neutral one is up to personal opinion, so that’s for you to think about.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Jax could care less about how he looks, as long as it’s something along the lines of nonchalant and chill, with a bit of prankster mixed in there.

And in the Amazing Digital Circus, I doubt there’d even be a need to style yourself in front a mirror every morning, you’re just a bunch of readily formed shapes stacked on top of each other after all. No real hair, - or fur - no real clothes so no wrinkles or creases, etc. 

So looks don’t matter too much in the digital world.

You don’t even get to choose what you look like anyway, so why be worried?

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Jax would probably tell himself he feels fine without you, but deep down he would know he’s lying to himself, and that he really does feel incomplete without you near him.

Take for example, if you abstracted, Jax would probably be on the verge of abstracting as well, seeing as you were the only one that liked him, anyway.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He really likes getting pet.

Whether it be his head, back, arms, ears, etc - Jax would love it.

Since he’s a rabbit, getting pet would also make his foot thump, just like real rabbits from the human world.

His ears are also ticklish.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Jax would hate someone who can’t take a joke, or prank.

Anyone he says ‘needs to lighten up’ won’t be on very good terms with him for too much longer.

He also wouldn’t like anyone who’s constantly crying, unless they have a valid reason to be. Jax’s list of valid reasons to be crying isn’t very long.

Nor would he like anyone who’s a child, even if they’re an adult in a child’s body size, it still doesn’t fly.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Needing sleep in the digital circus? Yeah right.

Life in the digital world pretty much means sleep isn’t necessary, but everyone does still go to bed, even if they don’t fall asleep.

Thought if he did have to sleep though, Jax would very much be a late to bed, late out of bed sorta guy.

Either that or no sleep at all, winging life with constant all-nighters.

[strawberrym1ko]

ORANGE PEEL THEORY || MID

ᯓ★ CHARACTERS: Asch, Rhys, Peirce, Leif, Noi

ㅤᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 SYNOPOSIS ― Testing the "Orange Peel" theory on your Daemos boyfriend ㅤᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 C.W ― None

ㅤᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 B.C ― Author having a favourite Daemos (See if you can spot him). Reader and Asch having that old-married couple vibes. Asch being jealous of Leif being mentioned. Leif being jealous of Asch being mentioned. Baby Noi. Reader forgetting how Leif acts and his motives-

M.LIST || APHMAU M.LIST

"BABE, WILL you peel this orange for me please?" You were sitting on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through TikTok once again, when that trend once again popped up on your page. You scrolled past a few of them, thinking not much about them but this time you got curious and decided to watch it. And after that video, you went and searched some more to see the different results.

A test of faith almost. If they would peel an orange for you, it's like they would do anything for you. You sighed, knowing it could only go two ways for you and your partner. You didn't have any hopes your boyfriend knew exactly what an orange was, just from the little details you had about their home land.

But sure, it be a fun little experiment to do on him. So, you placed your phone in your pocket and went into the kitchen, snatching an orange up from the fruit bowl.

Now to find that Daemos of yours

ᯓ ASCH .ᐟ ASCH WAS difficult to find at first. You weren't really sure where to search for him. You huffed, hands holding your hips as you began thinking where the royal pain in your arse could be. Only place you didn't really look was the make-shift castle the boys just magically made in your walls.

Stepping in the drawn wall Ava created, you looked around the main area first in hopes he might just be wondering around. But, at last. He was not. So, you went straight to his bedroom, since this addition was mainly used for bedding and whatever other magical shit they be doing.

"Asch" You knocked on the prince's bedroom before entering. You were doubtful at first, but the fabric shuffling noise confirmed that he was in there, just laying in bed. Guess they have lazy Sunday's in Daemos as well.

Just as you expected, Asch was laying in the bed, sprawled out like a starfish with half the blanket on his torso and the other half dangling off the bed. "This man" You whispered to yourself before walking to his bed side, taking a seat beside him and gently shaking him.

Asch moved. But, he did not wake up. He was a stubborn sleepier. It was a nightmare trying to get him up and even if you did, he was the grouchiest thing you would have ever met. "Asch" You said, shaking him more violently this time. He stirred, but did not wake up.

"Ugh! you are such a pain" At this rate the orange theory was slowly slipping through your mind, with waking him up now being your main goal. You stood at the end of the bed, grabbing the covers by their corners and yanking it off the Daemos prince body. But, of course due to his fire abilities, this man was always warm.

"Asch!" You grabbed one of the decorative pillows he always had at the bottom of the bed and threw it at his head. H E A D S H O T style.

That got him flinging up. He wasn't fully awake, his eyes were still shut closed. He was attempting to open them, but sleep was still in charge and his lids were too heavy for him to fight off.

"Who's there!" He demanded. his head falling left to right, his eyelids raising in attempt to lift his lids. But, it didn't work.

"Asch. I need you to open this orange" You held out the orange, an innocent smile gracing your lips.

Finally, he was able to open his eyes. Dark orbs fell down onto the orange. His mind busy at work, attempting to understand the concept of him peeling something you were more than capable of peeling yourself. "What?" He said.

"Peel this for me" You stepped forward, holding your hand out even more. "Please" You politely said, like that would help change his mind.

"You wake me up for this?" His slumber was disturbed for something that small? He was woken up for this while he believed something bigger had gone down?

"No" was his response.

"Fine" You caved in. "Suppose I'll ask Leif" You taunted, knowing he hated it when you went to Leif with anything.

"No! I'll do it!" You turned back to your Daemos lover, smiling brightly at him.

"Thanks babe!"

Conclusion: Failed success

ᯓ RHYS .ᐟ "RHYS? ARE you in the bathroom again?" He had such an odd obsession with the bathroom, always saying how it was a secret potion making liar that you and Ava refuse to admit. Just what did cauldrons look like in Daemos?

The bathroom door knob twisted and turned before finally opening, revealing your boyfriend in all his glory. He slicked back his hair, that was a new one. You never thought him how to, or where the gel was.

"How'd you find the gel?"

"what is this. . . gel?" Rhys questioned, his eyes squinting closer. He lost his glasses again.

You shook your head. "Never mind that. Can you peel this for me?" You held the orange out in front of you, pushing it closer towards your lover. Who, was undoubtfully confused.

"Are your hands sore?" He questioned.

You shook your head. "No. I just want you to do it for me"

He still didn't seem to grasp the concept of the whole idea, but none the less, he took the orange and began to peel back the skin, handing it to you once he was finished. "Why ask?"

You knew he would get fascinated by the theories people come up. "Its a theory"

"A. . .theory?"

You hummed. "Between couples. A partner who will peel the orange for you will make sure that your needs are met."

"Interesting"

Conclusion: Success

ᯓ PIERCE .ᐟ IT WASN'T hard to find Pierce. Everywhere you were, he wasn't far. And as you turned the corner of the kitchen, there stood Pierce. It seemed like he was leaving your room, which was reasonable considering he would spend most of his time in there. Something about your presence in that room being comforting. You didn't understand it.

"Pierce" You said, looking up at your boyfriend, who was looking down with those gentle eyes. Gentle eyes you could melt in, every time, without a fail.

"[Name]" Even how he said your name was so soft. You slapped yourself, stopping yourself from melting at this mans voice and looks. He glanced at you with concern. "Are you alright?" A worried hand hovering over your shoulder, not completely sure what to do.

"I'm fine. . " You paused. It be a trick and cruel, but could work? "Actually. . .can you peel this for me please?" You held the orange out to him.

Pierce took the orange from your hands and peeling the skin back in no-time. No questions, no confused looks. He just did as you asked and once the quest was complete, he handed it back to you. "Like so?

"Perfect"

Conclusion: Hard Success

ᯓ LEIF .ᐟ LEIF WAS sitting on the sofa, watching socky. You found it so funny how the boys became attached to the kids tv show.

You approached your boyfriend from behind the sofa, leaning forward with your arms wrapping around his neck. Your head resting on his shoulder. "Leify~" You called.

Leif leaned back to look at you. "Mhm?" He seemed unbothered. I mean, when he acts like this towards you as well it becomes a normal. And you don't get as flustered as before so it was no fun.

You pulled the orange from behind you, holding out in front of both you and your boyfriend. "Can you open this?"

"Why"

"Because. I want you to do it. Like, a test of loyalty"

"My loyalty lies with the Daemos royal family" That seemed funny to you. Considering he hated Asch and always made it his personal goal to keep a distance between you and the prince.

"That's funny, considering you hate Asch"

"Never said I liked them"

Mhm. Interesting.

Sighing, you stood up straight and unwrapped your arms from around his neck. "Alright. Guess I'll just ask Asch than"

Both Leif and the sofa almost toppled over with how fast the Daemos assassin stood up and leaned over, snatching the orange from your hand so he could peel the fruit for you. "No! I'll do it!"

Conclusion: Success

ᯓ NOI .ᐟ SINCE HE arrived to Earth, both you and Ava's cat Johnny had taken a big liking to the youngest Deamos. So, you knew exactly where to go to find your boyfriend.

You turned to your side to where Johnny's bed and tree post were to see both Noi and Johnny sitting there. Johnny was sitting on top of the tree post while Noi was sitting beside it, talking to the cat. You never understood why, even though he tried to explain it to you.

You approached the pink-haired Daemos, kneeling down beside him. "Noi" You asked, turning to look at him.

Noi looked at you, his wide sunset eyes staring into your soul. A weird feeling of peace washed over you. "Yeah?"

You held the orange in front of you. "Can you peel this please?"

Noi glanced at the orange than at you, a wild grin plastered over his lips. "Sure!" He gladly took the orange and peeled back the skin, handing it back to you once it was all peeled. A sense of pride coming from the Daemos.

Conclusion: Success

[chronically-ghosted]

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed 

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled. 

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder. 

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.” 

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.” 

Partner. 

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. 

And then he met you and the definition changed again. 

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why. 

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days. 

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions. 

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts. 

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed. 

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here. 

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all. 

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.” 

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime. 

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath. 

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee. 

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold. 

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.” 

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee. 

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets. 

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night. 

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids. 

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it. 

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since. 

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks. 

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair. 

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation. 

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay. 

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold. 

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love. 

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants. 

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare. 

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him. 

“Baby–,” 

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this 

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall. 

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer. 

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in. 

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut. 

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars. 

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day. 

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is. 

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head. 

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful. 

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you. 

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you. 

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees. 

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now. 

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it. 

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch. 

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart. 

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips. 

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs. 

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes. 

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it. 

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford. 

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair. 

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.” 

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole. 

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair. 

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh. 

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty. 

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible. 

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean. 

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face. 

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine. 

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point. 

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now. 

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level. 

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls. 

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest. 

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table. 

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock. 

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?” 

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich. 

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.” 

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.” 

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork. 

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist. 

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.  

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain. 

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.  

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.” 

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.” 

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it. 

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done. 

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.” 

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow. 

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy. 

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire. 

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust. 

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again. 

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm. 

“B-baby, please–,” 

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer. 

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.” 

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.” 

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him. 

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name. 

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep. 

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again. 

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more. 

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst. 

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs. 

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet. 

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor. 

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull. 

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face. 

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.” 

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest. 

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.” 

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips. 

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all. 

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed. 

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you. 

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.” 

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach. 

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.” 

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |3|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Talk of murder and Death

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Ana walked through her front door, sighing as she went to put her gun back in its compartment again. She glanced at her watch, she still had over an hour before she had to go get Caleb from school. She gave a little hum, it seemed you had been right, you had gotten her back home before Caleb got out of school.

Ana wasn’t sure if the ride back home had been better or not, she wasn’t anxious about you trying to kill her, but you dropped a lot of information on her. She knew vampires were real because she had witnessed them, she had been attacked by them. She remembered the story of the Le Domas family it had been huge news at the time, an entire family, ten people dead, plus their butler and two maids. It was something out of a horror film, the amount of blood at the scene, on top of it, the house burned down. Then the fact that the only survivor was the younger brother's wife who had just married into the family. The whole case had been suspicious from the start, Ana never imagined the truth wasn’t betrayal and greed, at least not in the way most would think, instead the truth was a demon.

Vampires were real, she had come to accept that. Now, demons were real and if she got involved with you and Grace, who knew what would end up turning out to be real. Anna wasn’t sure if she was ready to have her eyes open that much to that part of the world. Fighting supernatural monsters didn’t seem like the best course, it would probably be more dangerous than her current illegal occupation. She was intrigued though; she had been curious ever since learning about Abigail and the pay would probably be better than anything Ana could hope to find.

Before she knew it Ana was headed back out, making her way to pick up Caleb. She quickly walked down the street, much less paranoid that she was in the morning. She got there a few minutes early, like always. It wasn’t much longer before the bell rang and kids came running out of the building. Ana instantly found Caleb’s head of hair in the crowd of kids, her eyes tracked his movements as he waved goodbye to a friend and slowly made his way to Ana. When Caleb looked up, his eyes widened for a split second when they landed on Ana, as if he didn’t expect her to be there. 

Ana fiddled with the candy in her pocket, itching to pull out a sucker. She had been good ever since she got Caleb back, she was always in the same spot. She wondered what had been going through his mind all day. She told him she had a job interview and would be there, she wondered if he doubted her. She had made him promises before, only to end up letting him down. She had a second chance to make things right and she wasn’t going to screw that up, she wouldn’t disappoint Caleb again. 

She smiled as Caleb walked up to her and then they began their walk back to the apartment. “How was your interview?” Caleb asked quietly, breaking the usual silence they walked in. 

Ana opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking down at her son. Caleb continued looking forward, gripping the straps of his backpack just a bit tighter. “It went well,” Ana answered softly. Caleb whipped his head to the side, looking up at Ana. “It’s different than what I was looking for, but they seem to really want me.” 

“That’s cool.” 

Ana nodded. “They’re going to call me to let me know when I can start my…” Ana looked off to the side, quickly wracking her brain for something that sounded normal. “Onboarding.” Ana nodded to herself, quite proud of her answer, it wasn’t like she was about to tell Caleb a random stranger stalked her to offer her a job in hunting down monsters. 

Caleb nodded and they continued the rest of their walk in silence. Ana didn’t miss the small smile on Caleb’s face. She couldn’t help but smile herself, it seemed like she actually did something right. A part of Ana hoped the job worked out, as long as she could still spend time with Caleb and didn’t constantly need to cancel on him, things would be fine. It seemed like just getting a job that actually wanted her was enough to make him at least the slightest bit proud of her. 

When they got home Caleb ran off to his room, as usual. Ana took out her laptop and began applying to jobs again. She knew you and Grace made her a good offer, but Ana didn’t want to rely solely on it, she hadn’t gone on a job with you yet and if the first one didn’t work out, then she was out. She wasn’t going to risk her life or her sons' life to fight monsters. As tempting as the money was, she was prepared for it to not be worth it. 

“Mom?” Caleb asked. 

Ana closed her laptop slightly, not wanting Caleb to see the rejection emails she was deleting. They hurt a lot less now that she had the offer from you, but she still didn’t want Caleb to see that no one else wanted her. “Yeah, sweety,” Ana said, turning to the side to face Caleb. 

Caleb stood in the doorway, a folder and pencil in his hand as he shifted from foot to foot. “Can you help me with my homework?” 

Ana straightened her back she was sure her eyes lit up. This had been the first time Caleb asked her for help on his homework. Whenever she offered, he always rejected the help and said he had it. Ana knew Caleb was smart, his grades were fine but whenever he dismissed her help it seemed more like he didn’t want her help specifically, not that he didn’t need any help at all. She had watched him a few times as he’d grip his hair, staring down at the paper or constantly write something only to erase it. He still never took her up on her offer, this was the first time he came to her asking for help. 

“Of course,” Ana said instantly. She closed her laptop and pushed it to the side, so Caleb had room to set his homework. 

Caleb slowly walked forward, setting down his folder with his worksheet on top of it. Ana peek around his shoulder to see that it was math. Caleb kneeled on the floor, sitting back on his heels. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s see here,” she reached towards the paper, lifting it up slightly to get a better look. She slowly nodded to herself; it looked a little different than the math she grew up with, but it seemed mostly the same, just a different method. “Do you have a piece of scrap paper?” 

Caleb nodded before getting up and running off to his room. He came running back in a few seconds later, notebook in hand. He handed the notebook to Ana and sad down just as he had before. Ana started mumbling to herself as she started to write out the equations. 

“Okay, here,” Ana said, handing Caleb the paper with her work once she figured out how to solve the problem. 

She sat there, explaining to Caleb how she solved the equation. Caleb nodded along, seeming to understand what she was saying and then tried it on his own for the next problem. Ana watched over Caleb as he worked through equation after equation, slowly completing the worksheet. Every few equations Caleb would ask for more help in having to solve it and Ana would only have to explain how to get it started before Caleb was nodding and finishing it all on his own. 

“Thanks, mom,” Caleb said when he was all done. 

“Anytime,” she whispered. 

Caleb stuffed his worksheet in his folder then took off to his room. Ana sighed, relaxing back against the couch, all she did was help her son with homework and yet she couldn’t stop smiling. She glanced at the clock and saw it was getting late and she had yet to make dinner. She decided chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes were a quick enough meal and got to work on that. When it was all done, she called Caleb out for dinner, and he actually joined Ana at the little dining table they had. It wasn’t often Caleb actually ate dinner with her, he had the habit of taking his plate to his room. 

Towards the end of their meal Ana’s phone began to vibrate, when she glanced at her phone, she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” she answered. 

“An-Joey,” a voice she recognized as Grace quickly corrected. “Sorry for disturbing you so late.” 

“It’s okay, we were just finishing up dinner.” Ana didn’t miss the way Caleb kept glancing at her out of the side of his eye while he pretended to focus on his chicken nuggets. 

“I just wanted to say we have our next case.” 

“Already?” Ana had just taken a drink of water and nearly choked. She didn’t think she’d be waiting super long to hear from them again, when Grace asked to give them just one mission, she figured she’d hear from you guys soon, she didn’t think soon meant literally later that night. 

“We’ve been investigating this for a little while, but we didn’t know what the pattern was before. We have a rare opportunity coming up, one we can’t pass on.” 

“Okay,” Ana said slowly. She wondered if Grace could sound any more ominous. 

“It’s a lot to go over on the phone,” Grace sighed. She sounded exhausted, like she had been up all night. Ana didn’t know Grace well enough, but she gave the impression that she didn’t sleep much when working. “Would you be okay with meeting again tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Ana nodded. “Same time as today?” she glanced at Caleb, once she dropped him off, she’d have the whole day. 

“Yes, of course,” Grace agreed immediately. “Y/N will pick you up the same time tomorrow.” Ana closed her eyes, she didn’t hate you or anything, you were just a mystery, she didn’t like mysteries, especially when she had to sit next to them for long car rides. “Don’t worry, I told them to behave,” Grace mumbled. 

Ana couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you were a little annoying, but you weren’t too terrible, yet. “Thanks.” 

“See you tomorrow.” With that Grace hung up and Ana went back to finishing her dinner. 

“Who was that?” Caleb asked after a few minutes. 

“My new boss,” Ana answered. “Potential new boss. I’m going in to start my training tomorrow after I drop you off.” 

Caleb nodded. “Will you still be able to pick me up?” 

Ana opened her mouth, she figured they were just going to go over information tomorrow, but she didn’t know how long that would take. In any previous job she was given the bare minimum of information, only what she needed to know when she needed to know it. She assumed you and Grace were more thorough with your research and didn’t keep things hush hush. She didn’t need to go on a mission to know what the two of you did was dangerous, you all had apparently survived something supernatural before and Ana certainly knew that knowledge was power when it came to the supernatural. 

“I should be able to,” Ana said. “If for some reason my training goes longer than I expect I’ll call Mrs. Johnson.” she didn’t want to have to rely on her old neighbor but if this mission went well, she figured she might have to ask Mrs. Johnson to watch Caleb or ask her to pick him up a few days. 

Caleb silently nodded, his eyes falling to his empty plate. “Hey,” Ana whispered softly. “I’m going to do everything I can to be there on time.” Caleb nodded, then silently went to his room. 

Ana sighed, slumping back in her chair before grabbing the plates and placing them in the sink. She finished cleaning up then watched some mindless TV before going to bed. The next morning, she was up and had a breakfast sandwich ready to go before Caleb walked out of his room. 

She walked Caleb to school as usual and like the day before, as soon as the bell rang you pulled up in your Jeep. Ana barely glanced at you before flinging the door open and jumping in the passenger seat. You smiled at her, tilting your sunglasses down as you held up a coffee for her, she didn't miss the ‘Joey’ scribbled across the side in black marker. She wasn’t sure if you were trying to be an ass or not, but she appreciated that you were listening to her and only referring to her as Joey. She rolled her eyes, mumbling a small thanks as she accepted the coffee. 

“You ready to learn about our first case?” you asked. You were relaxed in the seat, resting one hand on the steering wheel as you made the familiar drive that Joey was sure you had done hundreds of times by now. 

“Do I get a hint as to what we’re dealing with?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“No idea,” you whispered, giving her a smirk. 

“What?” Joey turned to face you as much as she could. “What do you mean you don’t know? Grace said you’ve been on this for a while.” 

“We have,” you nodded. “Sometimes we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. It’s part of the dangers of the job.” Joey sighed, she assumed you and Grace would know what you were dealing with. “We try to know as much as we can but sometimes it’s hard to determine what exactly we’re dealing with. If it’s something familiar, with a pattern, like vampire, then it’s easier. When it’s something new though,” you shook your head. “It could be anything.” 

Joey went back to staring out the windshield. She fiddled around in her pocket before pulling out a little sucker, she popped it into her mouth and ignored the side glance you shot her. The rest of the ride was filled with a comfortable silence besides the radio playing quietly in the background. 

Before she knew it you turned down the secluded street and began passing mansion after mansion. Joey truly couldn’t imagine what the people who owned those houses did. She never would have guessed Grace inherited her money through marriage and now used it for funding supernatural monster hunts, but she didn’t think any of the other rich people on the street were doing that. Finally, you pulled into the familiar driveway and almost instantly the gate opened for you. 

Joey followed you through the house and back to the same room as the day before. She could see from the outside that the house was absolutely massive, but she had only seen a small fraction of it. The house was clearly old, though well taken care of, Joey was curious what secrets it held. She would bet money that it wasn’t just a simple multimillion dollar mansion, but that Grace had more than a few secret rooms throughout the place. 

“Welcome back,” Grace greeted. “Let’s get to it.” she gestured to the other side of the room where Joey had seen the pegboard, which was even more full than the day before and there were two more boards added to the mix. 

Joey couldn’t help the way her eyes widened; you had told her you did your research, but she was seeing that herself for the first time. There were various news reports, online articles printed out, pictures of the same two people, and little handwritten notes spread across the three boards. There was also a red string connecting various papers back to the unknown man and a blue string connecting more papers to the unknown woman. 

“As a surprise to probably no one in this room,” Grace said, jumping right into things. She stood at the front of the room next to the boards. “High society people tend to be the common denominator for supernatural killings.” Joey saw you nodding along out of the side of her eye. “We’ve been tracking mysterious killings for over a year now. They’ve been hard to put together because the victim is usually some random unknown person.” 

“AKA, arm candy for one of the rich pricks,” you said. “Someone not in that life, someone-” 

“No one will miss,” Joey finished. 

“The victims are seemingly random,” Grace continued. “Men, women, various ages, it doesn’t matter. The only common factor is the way they died.” Grace reached across for something on her desk then pinned up several pictures of different victims. 

“Holy shit,” Joey said, stepping closer to the board. She narrowed her eyes at the pictures of the victims, they all looked the same, their eyes were wide open, their mouth barely parted, but their faces were pale and sunken in, like someone quite literally sucked the life out of them. 

“We’ve never seen anything like this before,” you said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, just that these two people,” you pointed to the man and woman. Joey had to admit both of them were unreasonably attractive, she wasn’t sure if that was a sign they were a supernatural monster though. “Show up at every party where there is a victim.” 

“Which isn’t saying much,” Grace interjected. “High society people tend to run in the same circles, very small circles.” 

“So, who are they?” Joey asked. 

“His name is Marcus Carter, a typical rich businessman.” 

“And she is Karoline Knight,” you said. “Typical trust fund girl living off daddy’s money.” 

“She goes to the functions to mingle with business partners,” Grace added. 

“Do they know each other?” Joey asked. 

“Hard to say, they must know of each other. People like this, everyone knows everyone.” 

“We’ve never seen them in person,” you said. “Based on all the footage we’ve found and anyone we’ve talked to, they arrive separately, leave separately, they never interact at the parties, and killings have happened at parties where only one was in attendance.” 

“Any chance both are killers?” Joey asked. She already knew what it sounded like when she asked but she had to ask. Killings happened at parties they were both at and at parties where only one of them was present, that couldn’t be a coincidence. 

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Grace said. “Nothing is impossible. Nothing’s indicated they’ve ever spoken; let alone they kill together.” 

“Also, the kills are the exact same,” you said. “The odds of them both being a killer is incredibly rare.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” Joey asked, crossing her arms. 

“I’m glad you asked,” Grace smiled. She moved away from the boards and back around to her desk, she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a small rectangle with gold etching for a border and perfectly handwritten calligraphy, “There’s an exclusive party Saturday,” Grace held out the item in her hand. “And you two have an invite.” 

Joey gently took the invite from Grace. She only vaguely recognized the address, she recognized the name of the street, it was a gated community, sort of like the one Grace lived in. The place was fill with multimillion dollar mansions, all bought up by billionaires, some living there full time and other using it as a vacation home. Joey had never seen an invitation like this before, whoever was throwing the party literally paid someone to hand write every single invitation and based on the one Joey was holding, they were flawless. 

“Does that work for you?” Grace asked, snapping Joey out of her thoughts. 

Joey quickly nodded. “Yeah, my son will be at his dads this weekend so no problems.” 

“Great, Y/N will pick you up a little before the party, the two of you will come back here to get ready, and you’ll be off, hopefully to catch a killer.” 

Once the plan was settled on Joey was back in the car with you, headed back to her side of town. The meeting had gone much longer than she thought, it hadn’t felt like she had been there very long but going over the research, the plan, and everything had been so interesting. Joey was a doctor, but she had never seen something like that happen to a body before, she was intrigued how this monster was killing people. 

She tried to not keep glancing at the clock when she realized it was late and she might not make it in time to pick up Caleb. She focused on grabbing another candy from her pocket then spent the rest of the car ride tapping her fingers alongside the door. She couldn’t even focus on what was playing on the radio, she had told Caleb she’d do everything she could to pick him up on time and she was most likely going to fail. She hadn’t even officially had her first day of work, it was just a debrief on her first mission, which was a trial run for her, just something to see if she actually wanted to work with you and Grace. 

Joey was brought out of her thoughts when she felt the car come to a stop. She looked around seeing they were in front of Caleb’s school, the same place you picked her up. “What are you doing?” she couldn’t help but ask. You held up your finger and a second later the school bell rang, signaling the end of day. 

Joey looked down at her lap where she was playing with the wrapper of one of her candies. You had done it again; you got her back home in time to pick up her son. She hadn’t said anything to you, she didn’t even ask you to drop her off at the school, it was just something you did. “Thank you,” she mumbled, before slipping out of the car. You gave her a soft smile, then you were off before the first student was out the door. 

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax

[jeonscatalyst]

About the ham/pink sausage thing I'd love to know if you think bucking up at ur partner(Assuming jkk are couple or have romantic feelings for e/o) like that in front of other ppl can happen btw couples...... friends? Yes. Siblings? Yes. But couples? I wonder......if my partner does that (jk was kinda pissed because they questioned his knowledge of food or wtv that is) in front of other ppl I'd feel disrespectful maybe not by siblings and friends but definitely by my partner. Of course i don't believe any of the members have that kinda nature where they hit someone that's completely false I believe that. Can you imagine you and your partner in their place? Your partner bucking up at you like that in public? You won't feel disrespected? And i know you'll say jk was joking, he joked when he did it second time but the first time was his honest reaction. It irritated him that they didn't belive he was right.

Hi anon,

Short answer to your question is yes, it can happen. I’ve seen so many people give so many takes about the pink sausage/ham moment but I refrained from saying anything about it until I got my thoughts in order. So many times when people judge other’s actions they look at it from a perspective that they are used to or through a particular lens that makes sense to them forgetting that in this big world with over 7 billion people, there are different people, different cultures and ways of life so what might mean one thing to you, might mean something else to a different person.

I don’t understand why that was a big deal to people ( I mean I do kinda but…) because anyone who has watched even one kdrama or knows even a little bit about Koreans in general knows that koreans do that alot when they are mad or irritated. They buck at other people like they are going to hit them with no intention of actually hitting them. Parents do it to kids, siblings do it to each other and even people in seasoned relationships relationships do it as well. Jk wasn’t going to hit Jimin, that’s for sure. It’s just that was a knee jerk reaction at that point and from the reactions of Tae and Jimin, that wasn’t something Jungkook did often because Jimin didn’t seem used to it judging from his reaction.

I understand what you mean about feeling disrespected especially if that is something that happens in public but I doubt some koreans will see it that way mostly because it is something they are used to. Plus, sometimes people could be intentionally or unintentionally disrespectful to their partners, that isn’t news.

While that moment left a bad taste in some people’s mouths, I actually found it cute….not necessarily because Jungkook bucked at Jimin but because when you watch that scene, you notice that Tae was the one who started saying it was ham and he was also the one who kept insisting it was while Jimin only said it once but that one time Jimin said it was the only time Jungkook doubted himself about it. I also found it interesting that even though Tae was the one who repeatedly insisted that it wasn’t pink sausage, we only saw Jk’s emotions towards Jimin and nothing towards Tae. Now, most people whom I like to call shallow or fickle would rejoice at the fact that Tae didn’t react to Tae who was the instigator but reacted to Jimin who only said it once but to anyone who understands human emotions and knows a little bit of something about life, that single moment right there was more than enough to tell whom among the two Jungkook is emotionally closer to.

That moment to me will go down in history as one of the biggest moments that showed just how close and comfortable Jikook are with each other.

Typically, you are more likely to get annoyed at someone you are closer to because you have more expectations of them than the ones you are not as close to. There is also an emotional investment. Being closer to someone usually means you care more about their opinions and actions so when they do something that bothers you, it impacts you more deeply. You generally also feel more comfortable expressing or showing your frustration at someone you feel closest to because your relationship with them feels secure so you are not worried about how you might come off because you both know each other extremely well, while with a friend you are not as close to, you tend to be more forgiving or less affected by their behavior because your emotional investment is lower, and your expectations might not be as high. Anyone who watches that clip would wonder why on earth Jk only expressed his annoyance at Jimin and not Tae who actually started and instigated the whole thing and this is not to say Taekook aren’t close because we know they are but Jikook just have an insanely deeper emotional connection and bond.

Some people think Jungkook was just joking but I think he was truly annoyed and maybe even a little hurt, and his annoyance (though might sound abit silly) probably came from the fact that he expected Jimin to side with him but Jimin didn’t or expected Jimin to trust his judgement more. To so many people it might have just been a silly argument about ham and pink sausage bit to Jungkook, it was probably more and some might to relate or understand his annoyance but that doesn’t mean his feelings about the whole thing shouldn’t be respected.

Jimin’s reaction was also very telling and even though he handled things in a funny and dramatic way, I think Jungkook’s actions shocked him to a certain extent and he probably felt bad about it but he must have understood at some point why Jungkook reacted so intensely. Jimin’s actions also shows how much he knows and is emotionally close to Jungkook because if that were another person, Jimin would have probably cussed them out but he had this extra patience with Jungkook probably because he understood why Jungkook got like that. Compare the way Tae reacted after Jungkook made a statement about him being weak to Jimin’s reaction. One of them was clearly the reaction of a friend (Tae straight up warned Jungkook not to take things far else someone would see blood) but Jimin’s reaction was more….emotional. Jungkook’s reaction in the two cases too were telling. With Tae he was quick to say “yes sir” when Tae called him out but with Jimin, he didn’t look like he was ready to let go of the annoyance yet and even after they finished eating he kept glaring at Jimin till Jimin apologized.

Reminds me of that Live from May 2019 in Newjersey where Jimin and Jin turned off the Live before Jk arrived and Jk was so pissed he went to start his own Live. All Jin had to do to get Jk’s forgiveness was apologize once while Jimin had to follow him to his room apologizing yet Jk still didn’t let him off easy. These are things that could seem very trivial to people but that shows you that Jungkook might just have more expectations when it comes to Jimin while he doesn’t really get that affected by other’s actions. The rainy day story is also a good example that shows how Jimin’s opinions affect Jungkook differently. He has mentioned so many times that he tries to emulate Jimin’s actions so that already says alot about how much he values Jimin’s opinions and how much expectations he generally has when it comes to him so when he feels disappointed, it just triggers a more emotional response. It also gets a little weirder when you remember that Jimin is actually Jungkook’s hyung which means that Jimin could have easily scolded him like Tae did with Jk realizing that he had just been disrespectful to someone older and ready to apologize yet that is not the reaction we got from them at all.

So anon, I can see why you would see things the way you do but you always have to consider context and the context here would be that, different things are acceptable in different cultures or societies and things have different meanings to different people. And yes, if Jimin is Jungkook’s lover he might have felt disrespected sometimes things like that happen in relationships anyway so it’s nothing new imo.

[hellsslibrary]

✧･ﾟ:*NSFW Alphabet with Jack Howl*:･ﾟ✧

DNI : minors.

!!Warnings : sub!bottom!Jack, heats, oral, soft sex, size difference, animal instincts (?), shower sex, handjob, sweat(?), male reader.

Riddle <————«« Jack »»————> Ruggie

Sawanaclaw. Jack Howl.

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He doesn't get particularly tired, he has a lot more exercise than a few rounds of sex, so he's pretty good. Although if you are tired, then he will do everything for you in fact. Water, shower, food, anything else? It will certainly be in your hands.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I do not think that he is one of those who will highlight something in his partner. It's like he loves you completely and doesn't highlight any parts of you, he just doesn't need to. He loves you all without a trace, completely, every part of you.

The same can be said about him. He will not love something more about himself than anything else. Although he is definitely proud of his muscles

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

His sperm is released in large enough quantities, I would say more than average. It is thicker than normal and less transparent than normal human.

As for your sperm, he absolutely does not care where you end up. Although he definitely prefers you to cum inside him because it satisfies his animal instincts a little, especially during his heats.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It finds you hot when you are tired after exercising/sports/etc. Like really, you're out of breath, soaked in sweat, and take off your shirt with a heavy sigh of relief that it's over... And if you also have muscles... Damn... The poor boy will have a boner on the spot, lol.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He is not. He is definitely a virgin. It's just, well, I doubt he's ever been interested in it to the point where he'd go and do it with anyone. Although he knows what he's doing, that's for sure.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Doggystyle lol. What did you expect? Any self-respecting person imagined themselves fucking someone from Sawanaclaw in this position. Although his tail can sometimes get in the way in this pose, as he begins to wag a lot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Yes, he is definitely serious. Like... I'm not even going to discuss it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I don't know, I don't think he takes much care of his hair there, he just cuts it when it gets too long, but he doesn't do anything else. He has a normal pubis with hair, not too much nor too little. And the hair on the carpet is darker than on the drapes, very very darker.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is a romantic but doesn't want to admit it. He's just shy about it though, but his tail always gives him away.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

No, he doesn't do it often. Or maybe not at all after your relationship has moved to an intimate level. Why does he need this if there is your dick? Hands? Mouth? Whatever else? You are much better at keeping him satisfied than he is.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Handjob? I really don't know why. I just like to think that he likes to jerk you off with his strong hands or boobs. Breeding kink. I think I don't have to explain it. Like he's literally a wolf, like a hybrid animal. It is clear that he has something similar. Oh, and of course a kink to the size difference! It doesn't matter which way it works, whether you are above or below it, less or more. It's just nice anyway.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Well... I think he likes sex against the wall. It doesn't matter how. You hold him, you press him or he lean on it. He just likes it when you are in the position of a predator, and he is prey from this point of view.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

In general, the usual degree of excitability, he is excited by things that he likes. Again, you're sweaty and tired, yes. Maybe you wearing tight clothes, he likes to look at your curves.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Of course he wouldn't hurt you, it's a clear no-no for him. Also, he would never share you with anyone in any way.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves to give, of course. He loves to give you pleasure and loves to watch you enjoy the pleasure he gives you.

But he definitely loves when you give. Definitely, also, prefers a blowjob than anything else.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

A fan of something tender and loving, of course. He doesn't want to admit it though, hehe. But when he's in heat, he wants you to fuck him fast so you can be rough with him.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, not a fan of this kind of activity. Although he doesn't mind since he has something in his head (you'll find out later in W). But still, he would prefer a long sex, rather than an act where you will fuck, as if in the last minutes of life.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Well... He... Yes? I guess yes. He's experimental and willing to try just about anything, within reason, if you want it or he wants it. And he is also willing to take some risks and try, although the risks are more difficult to explain, I think he is quite cautious.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He lasts a very long time! In the end, he goes in for sports, and every athlete should have endurance training (CrossFit, my love :b ). So... 7-15? Yes, somewhere in this segment.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Well, I doubt he'll have toys since he'd be embarrassed to buy them, which is funny. But he is absolutely not against them, almost everything that you want, he is ready to try.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

He's not a fan of teasing. If he starts teasing you, then most likely his animal instincts will take over and he will immediately stop doing it and get down to business. This also applies to teasing on your part. He just might lose some control over himself.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Fairly quiet 3-4/10. Although still a pleasant, deep, low voice. But it is unlikely to ever become too high and loud. Quiet moans, sighs, maybe whining. No more.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

Well... He loves sex in the shower. The way water runs down your naked body while you fuck him/suck him off/finger him/etc gets him too turned on for no apparent reason. His hands instinctively grab at least something and in the end he breaks one of the shelves.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Very muscular, sculpted body! A few training scars, well, because he's a wolf after all. The penis is slightly larger than average, maybe 6-7 inches / 15-17 cm. But it is quite thick in girth due to its knot.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It is variable. When he's not in heat it's low, he doesn't want to do it too much, he's not some kind of nymphomaniac after all. He thinks it's too sensual to practice too often. But if he's in heat... I suggest you take a deep breath in and out, buddy.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fell asleep afterwards)

If the action was at night, then he will fall asleep almost immediately. Although, if it was in the daytime, he would not fall asleep. But if you want to take a nap with him for a while or just lie around, then he will gladly please you with this.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hello, I see that questions about relationships and courtship are open :D If it's okay with you, could I have Jamil and Leona, please?Number 5, 12, 16 and 28 ;)Thank you in advance!! You have a great blog! <3

Leona Kingscholar:

5. ♥ Do they wait to be intimate until after marriage or break all the social rules?

Leona breaks rules because he can, or pushes the very limits just to see how far he can go before it all falls apart. All eyes aren’t on him, at least most aren’t, aside from his nosy family members and those in the guard who may not trust his ambition. He knows how to pull the wool over Fareena’s eyes for the most part, though his sister-in-law is a different case. He’s not a patient man but he’s not pushy either; if he only wanted a night or two of fun he would’ve never committed to begin with, so you can take that to heart if you doubt his feelings.

12. ♥ Do they seek to find a partner purely to further the bloodline and name, is it for true love, or is it for pleasure alone?

Leona laughed at the thought of furthering his bloodline. Subject his child to 2nd place by default their entire life? Yeah, right. It’s a thought that drifts with time as he can’t help but want an heir himself, he refers to it as his natural kingly want even without being a king, but you think he just wants to raise a fighter willing to look out for the ‘little guy’ too just in case Cheka doesn’t do a good enough job. There is something to be said about the kinds of people he’d choose to date, ones that would be suitable for family life if they wanted it. Dating is mostly left to his own whims and he doesn’t do it often, if at all, as getting to know new people was a hassle and he hated wasting his own time.

16. ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Napping. Yes, yes, very stereotypical for the lazy lion but he didn’t trust just anyone to join him. Sleeping soundly around another person was like exposing your belly in a room full of predators; you wouldn’t do it if you felt like you’d be torn to shreds. He’s placing his trust in you to keep him safe and warm while he slumbers. He doesn’t reveal his expectations of you being his pillow until it’s far too late for you to run.

28. ♥ Do they understand their partners/person they are courtings feelings without them having to say anything?

Leona is as sharp as a carnivore’s claw. Many things could be said about him but his intelligence was rarely in question. He might not always verbally confirm things, but the longer you’re together the more familiar he is with you. Conscious or unconscious, he noticed the way you move or hold yourself, the way you speak and the specific words you pick whether you’re coddling someone or in an argument. He’s aware when you divert from your norm, whether its due to anger or sadness or embarrassment. It’s like chess, a game he’s quite good at, and you’re always stunned when he finally calls you out when he asks for the ‘why’ behind your changes.  

Jamil Viper:

5. ♥ Do they wait to be intimate until after marriage or break all the social rules?

Jamil doesn’t have any strong feelings one way or the other, but you do notice he’s the type to take it slow. He’s not embarrassed by physical affection per se but the closer you get, the more you feel him tense. He’s worried about getting too attached too fast, and while the sanctity of marriage isnt the first thing on his mind, there are some interactions you have that are so domestic Jamil can’t help but daydream about what married life might consist of with you.

12. ♥ Do they seek to find a partner purely to further the bloodline and name, is it for true love, or is it for pleasure alone?

Jamil isn’t entirely game to have children, for a variety of reasons that include not wanting them to be in servitude from birth. He has doubts, feeling guilty if a family is something you had always wanted, but he had never really seen that for himself. But he also can’t say he’s seen romance for himself either, or that anyone would want to date him despite his loyalty being sworn to another, so there’s a chance for change and he might be willing to reconsider a childless future.

16. ♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

Sightseeing. This only applied when you were out of the country, likely at the whim of Kalim going on his royal duties, but Jamil is given enough ‘personal time’ when he’s surrounded by the royal guards of other families. He liked to drag you around with him to places of interest, from the markets to the ruins that seem to line every city; his eyes always glow when he’s left to adventure on his own with no obligations to reassure the safety of who he’s with, though he is wary about going anywhere dangerous when you’re tagging along with him.

28. ♥ Do they understand their partners/person they are courtings feelings without them having to say anything?

Wires can get crossed from time to time, but Jamil isn’t stupid. He knows how to read people to an extent and he can be hyperaware of his surroundings due to his job, so he noticed plenty about you. Some little habits, the way you acted when you were happy or upset or contemplating existence, he just never knew how to use that to his advantage. Learning how to use the information you present him is more the issue he’s presented with but never doubt that Jamil will figure it out for the sake of keeping you as his.

[snipersfucker]

Hello :)

I saw that you were taking Mirage request and I wanted to ask if you can do Mirage x a fem reader were Mirage has a crush on the reader and has the habit of holding her like she is a cat and also maybe a confession? :D *the picture is a example XD*

this is so cute oh my

Mirage was a good friend.

Ever since Noah introduced him to you, he's been nothing but kind. Always finding time to talk to you and see you, even though he had his Autobot duties, always making sure you were either laughing or smiling, never allowing you to feel down when you were around him.

It's always been like that. And the idea that these little, innocent touches of his metal skin on yours, his optics that stayed on your face just a bit longer than anybody else's, the sweet, teasing nicknames he'd use when talking to you, would be anything other than Mirage being a good, caring friend has never really crossed your mind.

A robot fancying a human? That sounded absolutely insane.

But not to him. Oh, not once has he thought of his feelings towards you as not possible, strange, inappropriate. He'd rather describe anyone not being completely head-over-heels for you as such. It was just so easy for him to fall for you, it came naturally.

At the same time, as much as he'd love to just be around you all the time, hold you like the most precious treasure that you were, and call you his, he'd rather fight Scourge again than risk ruining your friendship because you didn't reciprocate his crush. And as self-confident as he might sound, he was quite unsure of whether you felt the same or was just being friendly.

So he didn't tell you anything. He stayed silent, bottling everything up, just trying to enjoy his moments with you, occasionally allowing himself to do something more, to get a bit closer to you than he normally would. Something that'd be more intimate than just sitting next to you, something that'd let him actually feel you.

And, God, he felt bad. He did feel bad for his touches not being completely innocent, even though he couldn't even imagine disrespecting you by crossing any of your boundaries. He just needed something more.

So there he was, standing in front of you, his servos on his hips as he looked down at you with his signature smirk.

"You seen these muscles?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't going to flex his strength just now, lazily motioning to his upper half with a digit, "I could lift seven trucks with one hand," he added, his tone not changing its colour.

He might've been exaggerating but it was for comedic purposes only so he could do that.

When you asked him how many pounds he'd be able to lift, you weren't exactly expecting an honest answer. Mirage both liked to act all tough and strong, but you also knew that he's never really checked how much weight he could actually pick up. So the conversation just turned into a playful banter as per usual.

"I weight eight trucks," you said with a straight face. These words left your mouth not because you were trying to sound like an insecure attention-seeker, but because you wanted to tease him. And it was best done by doubting his abilities and deflating his huge ego. "Don't think you can handle that."

It was childish and you were well aware of it but you enjoyed it too much to stop. It's always been like that and you hoped it'd never be any different.

"Oh, you should see the things I've handled..." he trailed off, the look on his face indicating that the stuff he was referring to was at least impressive. He knew you weren't serious, and you were aware of his actual strength.

His tone was funny. As if he was trying to appear at least a bit humble but failing tremendously. With his chin higher, optical ridges slightly raised, a confident smile on his face plate, he looked like a typical show-off, almost typical Mirage.

The sight made you snicker quietly under your nose.

You didn't know the direction the conversation was going in but he did. He knew what he wanted to do and he knew it was one of the rare occasions in which he was be able to allow himself to do something more, just like he'd craved for a long time.

His reaction to your small laugh was immediate. Even though you weren't making fun of him, he could pretend that it offended him. That you provoked him to prove you otherwise, that he could, in fact, lift you up with ease. So he lowered himself just enough for his servos to meet your body, wrapped them gently around your waist and picked you up. Just like a person holding a cat.

Now that your eyes were on the level of his optics, although not close enough for your warm breath to hit his face plate, you could see his confident smirk in its full glory.

"Show-off," you muttered under your breath with a small smile, even though you knew he could hear you, his audio receptors picking up on most sounds in a very big radius.

She's so soft. She's so soft...

"Oh, yeah," he scoffed, shaking his head in amusement, not letting you see how much he wanted to just keep you between his servos forever. "It's okay, dude, you can just say that you wanted me to hold you, I won't judge," he added, his tone light, casual, projecting. He shrugged with nonchalance on his face as if it was actually the truth and he wouldn't be mad at you if you wanted him to touch you like that.

Projecting.

And he called you dude. He called you dude because sweetheart felt too intimate at the moment, too heartfelt, as if he was scared that the position you two were in and that nickname rolling off his glossa towards your ears would make you realise he likes you. And he didn't want that.

"I feel like a damn cat, M..." you muttered again, placing your hands on his in a poor attempt to push them away for your body. But your smile betrayed you.

His spark almost exploded when he felt your warm hands on his metal ones.

"I'll let you sell me if you meow right now."

He had to say something, otherwise you'd notice the hearts in his optics that appeared when he was staring at you.

His words made you giggle and shake your head in amusement. "I'd sell you without you even realising it," you decided to respond with something more sassy, a smirk and a raised eyebrow only adding to the whole effect.

"You'd get rid of that pretty face?" He tilted his helm slightly, attempting to sound offended and hurt by your statement.

You shook your head in amusement again, letting out a soft sigh.

Mirage gasped dramatically, his face again showing pretend hurt. "You don't think I'm pretty?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

He loved every second of it.

You looked up at him, turning your lips into a thin line, as if you didn't have enough courage to tell him that you, in fact, didn't find him pretty, even though you did.

"You..." he gasped again, and if he wasn't holding you in his hands, he would put his servo on his spark just to add another dramatic effect. Then, a brilliant idea crossed his mind, "Air jail."

He turned his head to the side as much as he could to still be able to see you in his peripheral vision, straightening his arms fully so that you were as far from him as possible but still touching him.

"Mirage," you said his names as a warning. He knew you wanted him to place you on the floor again but air jail was definitely a real thing in his world.

"You deserve it," he said, his tone mean but not actually sounding like he meant it.

She's so cute. So cute...

"Mirage," you repeated his name sternly, although still playfully enough for him to know that you wanted this to continue, and his spark sped up.

"Tell me I'm pretty."

He sounded like a little toddler throwing a fit which nearly made you giggle but you decided to play along.

"...No."

So warm, so warm...

He scoffed at the word. Dramatically. Just to let you know you didn't actually hurt his feelings.

"You asked for it," he said nonchalantly, fake offence still lingering somewhere in his tone.

He felt smart. So smart for making something up just so he could hold you for a little longer, hoping you wouldn't mind if he did it playfully some time in the future again.

A few moments passed. The only thing he could focus on was your skin against his. The silence normally wouldn't bother him much but this time he felt as if you could practically hear his thoughts about yourself.

"Okay, Jesus. You're pretty," you muttered, rolling your eyes. The slight curl of your lips betrayed you again.

He was not expecting you to actually say that. His helm turned in your direction way faster than he wanted. He thanked Primus his optics didn't get as wide as they probably would've if he hadn't stopped them in time.

He knew you said it only because you wanted him to put you down on the ground. But the warmth that spread all over his metal body felt nicer than it probably should.

"Somebody's gotta crush on me..." he cooed teasingly just to cover up his own sudden nervousness.

You rolled your eyes again with a smirk.

"Floor, M."

Her voice is so soft...

He obliged. Of course he obliged, you told him exactly what he wanted to hear, you looked so pretty in his hands, you felt so warm...

You were standing on the ground again, hands on your hips as you looked up at his satisfied face plate. Cocky as always.

...And so that little thing that he came up with on spot became a part of your daily playful banters. You'd say something he didn't like, you'd end up in air jail.

You didn't mind, really, and found it rather amusing than any other thing. And this time was no different.

A few weeks after the invention of air jail, he did it again for the tenth time.

"You know I'm not putting you down till you say it, man."

Again, any other pet name sounded too intimate and it has not changed since the first time he had you in this position.

You were aware what you had to do, but it didn't stop you from being a disobeying little shit, denying him the things he wanted to hear from you.

"Airazor wouldn't date you."

He knew she wouldn't, he knew he didn't even want her to, but it was another excuse for him to hold you in his hands.

"Wrong."

"Ask her."

"I can't hear you."

"Ask her if she'd date your annoying ass."

He gasped, shaking his helm in disapproval as he looked at you with fake disappointment.

"Damn..." he pretended to feel hurt by your words, a sad expression on his face plate.

You frowned, at first with confusion at his sudden change of demeanor, and then with worry. You were worried that you actually said too much, that you said something wrong.

And noticing the look on your face, Mirage's immediately lightened up, showing him that he was joking as per usual.

"I hate you," you said as soon as you noticed he wasn't actually affected my your words.

"Nah. You love me," he said nonchalantly, shrugging, acting as if it was actually true.

"Nope." You shook your head. "I'm afraid it's one-sided,' you added with fake pity, acting like it was him who loved you without you reciprocating it.

And even though you were absolutely joking, he panicked.

Could you possibly know about his feelings? Has he been too obvious? What was it? Was he supposed to play along? Or was it the right time to tell you that he fell for you so hard he couldn't bear the thought of not being around you for more than a minute?

"I love you," he blurted out and cussed himself out in his mind for doing it in such a... disappointing way.

It wasn't him. He knew it wasn't him. Old Mirage would have never confessed his feeling like that. He would have never even feel anything so strong towards another being, the idea of confessing it too distant that it would never even cross his mind.

You changed him.

It felt strange. It felt strange to say these three words to you, he stopped feeling like himself for a few moments.

Strange but at the same time... good. He could sense the relief washing over his body as the confession left his mouth but the weight of the fear of rejection was still suffocating.

He wanted to repeat it. The three words threatened to roll off his glossa again but he swallowed them, noticing the way you reacted to them the first time.

"M..." you trailed off, too stunned to say anything else.

He wished your voice was less soft. Less careful.

"Yep," he said awkwardly, putting you down on the floor immediately. He nodded to himself. "Shouldn't have said that."

He was close to cussing himself out in front of you but he wanted to both do it in his helm and then later when you'd be gone.

Gone from his life forever...

"Nope, I actually meant it," he corrected himself, not really knowing what to say, feeling extremely out of place, acting more awkwardly than ever. "Friend."

He called you a friend just to save himself but he was fully aware it might've been too late for that.

"I love you as a friend, dude," he added again, making a finger-gun with one of his servos and pointing it at you.

It was getting worse and worse with every passing second.

He looked at you, standing without any movements, searching for any positive reaction on your face.

"Mirage..."

You used his name which meant you were most likely about to tell him that you were sorry, and that you didn't feel the same, and that you didn't want to have him in your—

"I love you."

His spark stopped.

He kept staring at you but then finally managed to get the courage to ask, just to make sure, "As a friend?" His voice was sceptical, as if he was expecting a negative answer. Which he obviously was.

You took a deep breath in and gave him a soft look.

"Not as a friend, got it," he interpreted your non-verbal response, nodding to himself a couple of times, breaking eye contact to look at the garage wall in front of him to collect himself. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, "Well, unfortunately I love you as a friend, so..." he trailed off with an unserious look on his face plate, his funny self finally making a comeback.

You scoffed, crossing your arms on your chest and shaking your head in both disbelief and amusent.

The audacity this man had...

"Alright, fine," he groaned, pretending not to like what was about to leave his mouth, "I love you as maybe just a bit more than a friend."

"Mirage..." you warned him for the third time today.

"I love you as a lot more than a friend," he corrected himself, not wanting to push it too much.

The eye contact was back.

"You're makin' me wanna giggle right now," he said randomly, as if it was a normal thing to say after confessing his undying love to a woman.

You snorted.

"The giggles are getting stronger. I can't hold 'em back," he said in a slightly warning tone, the seriousness in it making your smile grown bigger.

You both stared at each other just for mere second before you both erupted with laughter.

He did giggle.

"I love you, man," he repeated when you both calmed down after a few moments, "And I will stop calling you man. Someday. Promise," he added when he realised he didn't use sweetheart this time either.

"Yeah, of course." You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as you both looked into each other's eyes with warmth. "I love you, too."

And he smiled, finally feeling at home.

A/N: i used an insecure attention seeker instead of a pick-me even though i hate both but i couldn't really describe it differently lmao also, emotions give me an ick so it may be a bit cringey but we roll. and it's so bad (im just saying that so yall could give me compliments) cuz i haven't written anything in a while..... and the ending made me nearly throw up.....

[l-in-the-light]

Thanks for your answer 😊🙏 Another question that came to my mind when I read your post about Law liking boys: what do you think about the LawxRobin scenes where he tells her about his "D" (and that he trusts her) and the one after wano victory where they go to underground together?

You're welcome! Also a warning, this is another post replying to multiple asks at once :D

Law x Robin, huh. Sure, let's elaborate on it, but just so you know, my view on them differs greatly from how fandom tends to see their Wano interactions. I spent a lot of time analyzing it in my head (way more than any sane person would) so my initial reaction of "awww so cute he trusts Robin" kinda faded to almost nothing now haha. Just like I stated in that post, I think it was mostly about business. He wanted to know what the D. stands for so he approached the person who was the most likely to know some more information. Sadly, he didn't really gain any new knowledge. As much as I love that scene because it feels like Law is trusting Robin there, I think we shouldn't overestimate it in general. He basically offered a trade (I tell you my hidden name, you tell me something back in exchange - favour for a favour! It's his usual MO with strangers) and I doubt he would do that without any good reason for it. That scene has a different vibe from the one in which he shares about Corazon to Luffy, he's actually opening up and he doesn't expect anything back for it (you can argue he does that so Luffy understands fighting Doflamingo is personal for Law and to leave it up to him, but it's still just for that - so that Luffy understands. It's not a trade). With Robin he seems rather guarded when comparing the two scenes together.

I have my suspicions about their talk there. Law is using veeeery vague words when he claims he shares the info "because he trusts Robin". What he actually says is just this: "omae dakara hanashita" which means literally "I told you because it's you" and you can interpret it any way you like, Robin took it a sign of trust and thanked him, but it's so vague it can also mean something like "I tell this ONLY to you" and that smells of a hidden reason to me. But of course it fits Law's withdrawn personality to not say the words like "trust" straightforwardly, right? But in his scene with Luffy he is kinda openly emotional in contrast - he literally tells him Corazon was the person he loved who gave him his life and that he is deeply indebted to him. Law didn't use many words, but all those words carried emotional weight, unlike the vague phrase he used with Robin. But anyway it wouldn't make sense to say my conspiracy theory here without explaining loose links from Water 7. Also I'm like 50-50 on that and I really think fandom wouldn't want to get spoiled this way in case I'm right.

Their randezvous in the secret chamber doesn't strike me as romantic honestly (I know people love it just because Robin and Law are alone together and oh just few inches from each other, and interpret what Robin says as teasing, but I need more than that for romantic vibes, sorry :D). It basically starts with Robin accusing Law of being a hyena (at least that's how he subjectively felt about that! and she didn't deny) and he gets back at her for it when he shambled only himself to that window (he even keeps his sour face on when she's complaining it's unfair, he doesn't even want to tell her it's a payback haha). Yes, he's that petty. Don't you like it in him? I certainly do, he's so hilarious.

Anyway, the whole scene is just them sharing business together, and it's slightly hinted that Law was kinda eavesdropping on them before he actually joined in, that's why Robin's reaction might have been that strong and a bit hostile. Robin prides herself in being sensitive to people around and their intentions, picking up on the slightest hints other people don't (like she said in Water 7, it's her survival's instinct), but she couldn't sense Law so ofc that would rub her the wrong way. Anime especially did a great job at showing it, with Law appearing out of nowhere exactly when Robin is gonna go down the hidden stairs. A timing a bit too perfect, eh? I wouldn't call Law a hyena (he had perfectly rational reason to be there!), but he sure was so damn sneaky and smooth about it.

Anyway, I guess my point is: those two are very guarded people, both dislike to show a moment of weakness because they know it can result in deadly situation. And they're also both very business-oriented. If there was any scene between Robin and Law that showed them as closer to each other, it would be all the way back in Dressrosa.

Just look at the mutual respect they show each other here! Law isn't acting freaked out by Robin's powers (because why would he, right? His powers are also quite peculiar. But I bet that earned him extra sympathy points here. How many times Robin heard it as a child that she's a monster just because she has devil fruit's powers) but also immediately worries about Robin and Usopp's safety instead of his own. Then he sits down to talk with Robin, just so they're more or less on eye-level, that's really considerate of him, especially in such a tense/crisis situation. And at the end of their talk Robin tosses him a "good luck" (in Japanese apparently it's a different phrase, one you say before a battle), and Law says "same to you" which is the closest he ever gets to say something even slightly akin to a greeting in the whole series. Soon afterwards Robin notices the ground shaking and worries for Law, because she knows it's a sign that he's in a tough fight. This is a huge step for Robin to worry about someone she actually suspected of betraying Luffy in Punk Hazard. She was always guarded whenever Law so much as appeared on screen.

This is also a great scene between them. Robin can't understand Law's dedication to Luffy, she clearly thought Law is indeed seeing their cooperation as only business-style alliance, they share a common goal, Law shouldn't feel like he owes anything to Luffy, and so she tries to appeal to Law's sense of reason here. She does it because she's concerned about him, she reacts really strongly to see him defeated (he definitely has her respect for his strength and skills to manage crisis!), and even more concerned when she notices his severed arm. She tries to make him think straight so he takes care of himself firstmost, but it's not for herself that she's saying it: it's for Luffy. I think Robin realized in Punk Hazard already that Luffy is really attached to Law, so of couse she wouldn't want to see Luffy sad if Law loses his life here, especially not after Luffy entrusted Law to her. She must be really taken aback with Law's final answer. I wonder what she might be thinking about Luffy's importance to Law now, because I would say she kinda caught a wind or at least a hint that Law cares more deeply than it seems at first glance.

Honestly every single one of their interactions in Dressrosa is much more meaningful than anything they shared in Wano, where both of them are just honestly clamming up again. I mean, there is no battle going on anymore (they had conversations in Wano before the plan was set into motion and after the battle has ended), and fighting together tends to bring people momentarily closer. But we shouldn't forget that in daily circumenstances Robin will still keep her guard up and so will Law, because trust in an ally in a battle is different than being emotionally open to a friend. They're both smart and they're not gonna pretend that just because Luffy calls Law his friend, that for Robin alliance means friendship as well. This also stays in line with what I believe is quite realistic when two very traumatized people having issues to open up actually meet and interact. Law might know about Ohara from the newspapers desciribing Enies Lobby incident, but I doubt Robin knows about Flevance or would know to connect Law to it in any way (fics often make her almost clairvoyant how she figures him out, but nah, that's just wishful thinking). That shared traumatic experience could bring them closer, but I think for now it's mostly one-sided, because Robin has no way to know.

Damn, I had a lot to say about all of that, haha. I hope you had fun reading about their interactions from a different angle!

Personally, I think Law x Luffy dynamics work better overall.

Law x Robin:

two very traumatized people

both don't open up and keep their guards around strangers

none can cheer the other because they both have pretty gloom personalities

they like cute things

share same or similar sense of humour (though Robin's more morbid)

both very serious

both good listeners and observant

both independant

both like to tease/stress Usopp (they could form a "tormenting Usopp fanclub", they tease him out of affection ofc)

both like their peace and quiet but also to watch other people cause chaos from afar (unless someone provokes Law)

both cling to cheerful people, both remember their mentor's smile

Etc. I think they would be great best buddies in the longer run and understand each other on a special level.

Law x Luffy:

both like to cheer up people (Luffy's the ultimate person to cheer anyone up. And it brings this side of Law to the light of the day too)

both are reckless little shits liking to cause chaos and beat people up for hurting people dear to them, both don't know when to give up

friendship is a serious matter and so is trust for both of them

one constantly smiles outwardly, the other inwardly

they both know the pain of losing their most important person

one is a younger sibling, the other the older sibling personality type

they understand each other without words

take each other seriously (and almost no one takes Luffy seriously)

both are stubborn mules with competetive side

overdedicated to protect others and not care enough about their own wellbeing in the process

remind each other of people they once loved the most and which they lost

In the longer run those two will cover up for the other's weakness and could literally turn the world upside down together while laughing/smirking.

Summing it up, Robin and Law are similar souls, going side by side. Luffy and Law instead have each other's backs, complementing each other. I feel like it's really a matter of preference and I sway towards Luffy x Law, their interactions are just so fun. But I do enjoy Law x Robin, just more as a friendship. Tbh both work as friendships the best and I tend to prefer them this way. I just think the friendship Law and Luffy have going on is something extraordinary on a whole different level. They're behaving with each other in ways they don't really share with others.

I think it would. But it doesn't have to be his biological family for him to be happy, you know. Whether his partner is a woman or a man, whether his own kid or more like picked up and adopted, it would make him happy just the same. He has already his adopted family in his Hearts Pirates and Wolf. He definitely is already part of Strawhats adopted family as well. And who knows to how many other "found families" he can belong from now on! He deserves a family, he actually deserves more than one that he can call his own.

There is lately one scenario I'm especially fond of actually. If Law becomes a Strawhat officially and Bonney will be also adopted in the crew as a sort of "next generation", he would totally act like a father/older sibling towards her. Sure, he would still act annoyed, worry all the time, but deep down he would love every second of it. He could finally be a brother to a kid that reminds him of Lammy. Life denied him that before so it would mean so much for his healing progress if he could reclaim it. I think as a father he would still act a lot like an older sibling actually. The same way Cora-san is also hard to classify, was he an older sibling, a father figure, a younger sibling, a bit of each combined? Anyway, I'm sure Law would try to live up to his caretaker and return the favour to someone else.

No matter how it would happen, yes, having his family, found or biological, would make him happy. I truly believe it's that one thing in his life he truly wants. Of course, once he has one, he would be worrying and afraid of losing them. Perhaps in that case Strawhats would be his best choice; they're very strong people capable of taking care of themselves, so he could perhaps learn to believe in them, that they wouldn't kill themselves off the moment he takes his eyes off of them. He would still worry a lot and protect them, but at least maybe he wouldn't self-explode in the process. He probably still will.

Indeed it has been asked before :) but no worries, I will link you to the answer so you can read all upon that: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/760279386040795136 Enjoy! Sadly I don't have any new thoughts regarding that, otherwise I would add some now :3 Maybe just one: it doesn't matter if it's friendship, romantic relationship, the progress would be similar in this case, or at least I believe that.