#it balances how sour they can get

[capgrass]

man I wish we had strawberry monster in my country

I AM SO SORRY!!! it is the only good artificial strawberry i’ve had i’m going 2 be honest

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

Just ate the most amazing tangerine I've had in A LONG TIME

[blindmagdalena]

You Let Me Complicate You

18+ 4k homelander x f!reader. bickering, post-breakup sex, dubcon/coercion, angst, jealousy, emotional manipulation, implied murder, stalking, boundary smashing, breaking and entering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex. read on AO3. written as a follow-up to the breakup, but can be read as a standalone. gif credit.

Breaking up with Homelander is... complicated. After all, it is a god that loves you.

"What do I taste like?" You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over. "Love," he said at last. "Like you love me." You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you. If that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier.

Homelander is an aberration.

Stronger than a hundred men, faster than a bullet and sharp as a tack all paired with a teaspoon’s depth of emotional maturity. He’s volatile, twisted, broken in ways no amount of therapy could ever hope to duct tape back together. He’s no better off than a dog that bites to kill. No matter how he got to this point, the best thing for him–for the world–would be to put him down by any means necessary.

Too bad you can’t seem to stop fucking him.

It’s late when you hear the front door open with a distinct crack. You’re sprawled out on the couch in the living room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. What comes next is no surprise to you–a shock of primary colors filling the narrow doorway, a handsome face made ghoulish by the haunting light of the television in an otherwise dark room.

“You nailed the door shut,” Homelander says, the inflection of his voice somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Because you broke it,” you throw back, a stale Twizzler balanced between your lips. It had tasted good enough when you started eating it, but now–in his presence–the sweetness of it has turned sour.

“You changed the locks,” he says with a light shrug, cape swaying as he meanders towards you. “My key didn’t work.”

“Your key? Stealing a key to my house does not make it your key,” you say tersely, lifting your foot to press it firmly to his thigh, stopping him in his tracks. 

He glances down, a mirthless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he catches your ankle in his gloved hand, yanking you down the couch so suddenly you lose your Twizzler to the floor with a gasp. It’s one thing to know that Homelander has strength enough to throw cars like frisbees. It’s another to feel it. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you like a jolt, followed swiftly by something hotter low in your naval.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” he begins, dropping your ankle. He lifts his knee and slots it between your legs, his opposite boot on the floor, his hand braced on the back of the couch, pinning you in place.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you cut in dryly, moving to shift up the couch, away from him. He snatches your shoulder, halting you with ease. His thumb strokes your skin idly, goosebumps erupting beneath his touch.

“And I’ve realized that this whole… thing between you and I, this ‘will they, won’t they,’ ” he says, bobbing his head side to side. “It’s getting stale. Don’t you think it’s about time we progressed the plot?” He asks, leaning in close.

You brace your hand against his chest, holding him in place as ineffectually as you did earlier. You both know it’s all a game. It’s all pretense. There had been fondness between you once–love, even–but you’re done with that now. You have to be done with it, or Homelander will swallow you whole. He’s a black pit, a murderer, and his need knows no end. He’ll destroy you and everything you know and love if he thinks it’ll satiate that need.

You’ve lost enough. You can’t afford to lose any more of yourself to him.

“Jesus Christ, you even think in TV script,” you say, pushing on his chest. He leans back, but not by much. It sends a terrible little chill down your spine. “I’m starting to think the only thing that might actually kill you is an original thought.”

His eyes narrow and his bright white teeth flash predatorily in the darkness. “You’re lucky I haven’t broken your neck,” he says, hand slipping from your shoulder to your throat. The sharp press of his thumb into your windpipe steals your breath, makes your thighs tighten on either side of his leg snug between yours. His lips split into an unkind grin. “Or maybe not. You’d probably like that.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit, gripping his wrist with your other hand. Your pulse is starting to throb against the leather of his glove. He moves his thumb from your windpipe to your jaw and turns your head away, leaning in with a deep, pointed inhale along your neck.

“Is that why your hormones are going haywire? Because I disgust you?” He asks, grinding his thigh between your legs in a way that makes you gasp. “Y’know, given how full of it you are, I was sure I’d smell the bullshit on you. But all I smell… is how fucking wet you are.”

He grabs your hip and the memories come to you like muscle memory. How good it feels to be gripped and fucked and loved by someone beyond your comprehension. To feel as if you’ve stopped the world turning and called the sun itself to shine on you alone.

You twist your chin out of his grip and level him with a heated stare. “I hate you,” you hiss, grasping for the knife you know will twist the deepest. 

It works for a second, his smug expression faltering, but only for an instant. His jaw sets, and his lips curl into that same unkind smile. “C’mon, babe,” he coos, the intimate familiarity woven into that pet name making your skin crawl. “We both know that I can always tell when you’re lying.”

He kisses you like he always has. Like you belong to him. In a way, you suppose you always will. There’s nothing you can do to pry your throat from Homelander’s jaws. Nowhere you can run that he won’t eventually find you. Like quicksand, the more you fight, the tighter he clamps down. Truth be told, though, that isn’t the worst of it. The worst of it is that the tighter he grips you, the less you want to fight him.

His tongue slithers into your mouth like a serpent into the garden and you bite down hard. While pliant between your teeth, the flesh doesn’t yield. It never will. He never will. Instead he moans a little chuckle that fades into a rumble against your lips.

“That how it’s gonna be?” He asks, the words rasped into your mouth. “Y’wanna bite and claw? Play hard to get?” He laughs, the sound of it reedy and light, like it’s all a silly little game of make-believe. “I can do that.”

He reeks of his own desperation for what he says to be true. More than anything, he wants to dress up his desires as yours. He wants to believe he’s giving you what you want. That way, he can trick himself into believing you need him.

He bites the middle tip of his glove and tugs it off with his teeth, tossing it aside. His bare thumb brushes your lip, smearing his spit and yours. “I saw you with that fucking loser,” he says, the airiness suddenly gone from his voice.

Your stomach drops. Two days ago you’d been with a man. You’d been so desperate to forget him that night that anyone would have done the job. You stumbled out with some nobody from the bar who’d been good enough for a sloppy makeout session in the back of his truck, but not good enough to bring home. It hadn’t ended well.

How close of an eye is Homelander keeping on you?

“I’d be angry if it hadn’t been so fuckin’ pathetic,” he says through his teeth.

“Liar,” you say tightly. You feel his fury in the tension of his body. He’s pissed that you’d seek this out anywhere else. As if he still has a claim over your body. Your pleasure.

His eyes flash up to yours. He sneers, pushing his thumb between your lips. “I watched you bite his lip until he bled. I watched him slap you,” he says, dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridges of your bottom teeth. The memories come to you as he speaks them, every moment of it made bleary by alcohol. “You wanted it rough, but he couldn’t handle you, could he? Because you’re used to something better. You’re used to a god.”

You sneer right back at him, yanking your head to the side, his thumb slipping from between your lips. “Could you be any more in love with yourself? Go fuck yours-”

“I still had to kill him, of course,” he continues nonchalantly, grinding your thoughts to a screeching halt. He laughs humorlessly. “For kissing you. And, well–for everything else, obviously. Slapping you,” he says, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. The same one the man had struck. “Humping your leg like a fucking dog.”

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, throat tight. Bile burns at the back of it. All you wanted was to get away from this. The blood, the horror of it. Yet no matter what you do to dissuade him, he brings death to your doorstep. “You have everything. You could have anyone. Why are you–”

“Because I want you,” he hisses, words so sharp his sharp teeth snap together. “Because I love you, and that’s what you do when you love someone,” he says. You can feel the accusation building in his words. “You don’t give up on them. And if that means cleaning up every dirty little mistake you make,” he says softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So be it.” 

A cold shiver rolls down your spine. You stare woundedly at him, lips parted, brows pinched together, the misery of it all etched into every line of your face. He stares at you in turn, and after a beat, his own hard expression softens.

“Hey, hey,” he says, the heat of his breath a ghostly kiss on your lips. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing the tip of your nose with his. “I forgive you.”

He kisses you again, more tender now. Your eyes prickle with tears. His gentleness hurts so much more than his violence. It disarms you, carries you to a time when things were simpler between you. Sweeter and warmer. 

Homelander makes the world feel wonderful and dangerous, like standing in the middle of an electric storm. Being loved by him is the feeling of having your ribs cracked open, your heart cradled in his bare hands, possessive and bloody. What had been thrilling grew stifling, a feeling you realize now never truly went away.

He’s inescapable, literally and figuratively. Even when he isn’t inviting himself into your home or lurking in the periphery of your vision, Vought’s hero is plastered on every billboard and screen in the city. You haven't been able to breathe without inhaling the thick miasma of him.

Tears roll down to your temples as you kiss him back, both hands fisted in his soft hair, tugging. He makes a pleased little sound against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip. He’s always kissed like a man possessed–like every brush of your lips is a drop of salvation–but the hunger he’s developed since you tried to leave him is unparalleled. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole.

You bite back a sob, but the hiccuped noise of it catches his attention nonetheless. He breaks from you, looking down at you with a feverish mix of yearning, impatience and something that almost resembles pity, which might be the closest thing he knows to sympathy.

“Hey,” he coos, dusting your jaw with feather light kisses. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s awful,” you choke out.

“What is?”

“Your love.”

“I know,” he says after a prolonged pause. “It’s all I know.”

You look at him, the image of him bleary through your tears. There’s a morose resignation in his ocean-storm eyes, a distance that makes him seem far, far away from you, even as you taste the heat of his breath on your lips.

Focus returns to his gaze, and suddenly he’s present again. “It’s all I know,” he says again, his tone made of wood, stiff and splintering.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lift your palm to his cheek, hovering just shy of touching. He’s pulled to it like a magnet, nuzzling into your palm, eyes closing. His hand slides down the familiar slopes of your body, settling at your hip, where his fingertips sink in like claws, the pressure of them shy. For as vicious as things have gotten between you, he’s never hurt you. A fact he lords over you as if he should be applauded for it.

I love you more than anything. You know that, right? That I would never do anything to hurt you? He’d asked you during that first fight. When everything went wrong. 

You’d only been able to nod then, trapped with a man you didn’t recognize wearing the face of the man you loved.

That’s right. Of course you do. Because if I wanted to hurt you, I would have. It would have been easy, huh?

Despite how desperately you’ve tried to fortify yourself against him, it’s still so easy.

Homelander is an aberration, but so too is he a man, and there was a time when the man was all that you saw. When the monster at the core of him reared its head, bloody and unrepentant, that became all you could see in him. Now, the two are so irrevocably tangled in the sinew of the other, you’re never sure which you’re looking at.

“I miss you,” you confess to the man in him, voice so soft only his ears possibly could have discerned the words. As if you can hide the words from the monster lurking behind if you speak them quietly enough. 

He looks as confused as your own aching heart. “I’m here,” he says, everything in his tone willing you to believe it. He doesn’t understand that you miss who he was before you knew what he was.

A mournful noise swells in your chest, but he kisses you before it can escape. “I’m here,” he says again, the hand at your hip turning into a fist in the fabric of your clothes, tearing them at the seams. “I’ll make you feel better,” he says between presses of his lips, hungry and rushing, like he can outspeed your miserable grief. “Let me make you feel good.”

Sex has always been an avenue of redemption for Homelander. Whether he’s frustrated, anxious, wounded or a combination of them all, he’s sought to remedy it through a good orgasm. He treats you as though the notion should hold true for you: the fight doesn’t count so long as he makes you come.

Yet again, you’re left stricken by him. As you have a dozen times before, all you can do is nod. Deep in your core, you know he’s right. He can make you forget this horrible ache in yourself, the grief and the fear. He can take you away to the dream you’d lived before you met the beast in his shadow. 

Coherent thought turns to water slipping between the cracks of your mind as Homelander’s bare fingers brush your inner thigh. You suck in a sharp breath that leaves you as a shudder and you clutch at his collar, twisting the fabric, unsure if you mean to push him away or pull him closer.

Homelander makes the choice for you, closing the distance and kissing you too gently, too sweetly. You spur him with your teeth, needing it faster, harder. Needing it to hurt just enough to not feel entirely right. He ignores your prompt, focused wholly on tasting you, on sliding his fingers up into the waiting warmth between your thighs. He presses the pad of his middle finger to your clit, deft and familiar.

You sigh, closing your eyes, ready to lose yourself to the feel of something good. He slides serpentine down your body, kissing you through your shirt, nipping at your skin through the fabric for the way it makes you jump. His lips trail down until they pass the hem of your shirt, finding where he’s stripped you. His mouth is unbearably warm, breath hot huffs on your bare skin, goosebumps erupting everywhere.

He mouths at your hip, sucks the skin dark before trailing further down, leaving a constellation with his lips. The scorching wet heat of his tongue feels like a brand on your clit, replacing his hand with his mouth. 

You thread your fingers into his hair, widening the spread of your legs to allow for the way he shoulders under and between them, lifting your lower half. He nuzzles into the nectary sweetness of you, moaning unabashedly for your familiar taste.

What do I taste like? You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. Everything about him fascinated you; did his super smell lend itself to super taste? Could he pick out each note of you, dissect your profile into sections?

He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over.

Love, he said at last. Like you love me.

You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you, if that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier. If he plunges his tongue to the core of you in the hopes he might discover lingering shreds of what the two of you once had.

A moan escapes you. His fingers bite into your thighs, tongue coaxing more. Restraint dissipating, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug, grinding hard against his mouth. He knows the stepping stones of your pleasure as well as you know yourself, knowing just when to suck, when to lick. He’s more relentless than any other man could hope to be, never needing to stop for breath, never succumbing to aching muscles. He maintains a pace that sends you careening so viciously towards release, you give a choking gasp when it hits you, your head thrown back against the couch as euphoric relief rolls through you in waves.

Homelander shrugs out from under your trembling thighs, his mouth slick and shining, eyes predator wide. You’re both panting, silently gauging the other. You’re first to break the standoff, his hunger infectious. You climb onto your knees and grab his shoulders, pushing his back to the couch, straddling him. He keens when you kiss him, an addictive sound that gives you a deceptive sense of power.

He murmurs your name in fervent repetition, dragging his mouth along your skin, inhaling you like a drug. You unbuckle his belt with the ease of experience, unzip his pants and slip your hand inside. Curling your fingers around his cock, you find it already hard and dripping in anticipation.

“Anything you want,” he breathes, the words coming between the prayer-like recitation of your name. “Money, diamonds, anything, I’ll make you a queen,” he says, eyelids fluttering at your touch. He pledges these things like an act of devotion, but you recognize this Faustian bargain for what it is. It will cost you your heart and soul.

“I’ll make you a god,” he moans at a particularly deft twist of your wrist.

Making you come will have to be enough for now.

“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. “The way I like it.”

Like flipping a switch, the dazed pleasure in his eyes sharpens. The corners of his mouth tug, his upper lip twitches, eager tension slipping into his touch as his hands slide up your thighs, grasping your hips. His fingers sink in tight enough to bruise, despite the gentleness of his touch. The immeasurable power lurking within his unassuming frame is a novelty that never wears off, a thrill that shocks you to your core no matter how many times you experience it.

Like a vicious storm, he’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Caught in the eye of his maelstrom, the only thing left for you to do is weather him.

He guides you down onto his cock in one slow, agonizing pull. Even with his spit and your orgasm easing the way, it’s too much all at once. Relishing the aching burn of being split apart by him, you make a noise that gives him pause. You don’t let him stop. You brace your hands on his shoulders and lift off of him almost entirely before sinking back down deeper than you had before, wringing a moan from him in turn.

Homelander’s fingers dig securely into your back as your bodies slot together and find an old, familiar rhythm. By now he knows exactly the angle to take to best pleasure you. You let out a shaky sigh at the warmth that spreads through you, the pressure of your climax building, his heat sinking into you like the light of the sun itself.

You’re used to a god.

You cup his face and kiss him. You bite his lip until you should taste blood. You dig your nails into his skin so hard your knuckles ache. If he notices it, he’s only pleased by it.

“I’d move heaven and hell for you,” he swears between kisses, ripping the shirt from your body. The cool air hits your damp, hot skin like a shock. 

“I don’t want them,” you say, voice catching on one of his sharp and sudden thrusts. He’s close. You can feel it in the tightness of his muscles, in the erratic, merciless way he drives into you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice reedy, tight. He kisses down your chest, scrapes his teeth over the swell of your breasts. “They’re yours. It’s all yours. I’m yours.”

Those words should hit you like a prison sentence, but they don’t.

They make you come.

Homelander holds you tightly as he, too, breaks into pieces, filling you with light and heat. He chokes more promises against your skin, kisses the salt from your skin and licks it greedily from his lips. You spin in place in his arms, dizzy on your own orgasm, riding out the aftershocks with his cock throbbing against the quiver of your cunt.

For a long while there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths and the distant din of the television. The tremors wracking your body gradually fade, and the chill of the open air begins to set in.

Homelander holds you tight as the sweat on your skin cools. He kisses a trail from your neck to your shoulder, nuzzling there before he rests his head down, face tucked into the crook of your neck. You feel wrung dry, eyelids heavy. You card your fingers absently through his hair, body boneless against his. Your eyes ache from crying, but you don’t mind it. Strung out like this, the aches left in the wake of pain and pleasure both feel equally good.

“It’s late,” he says warmly, a smile in his tone. He sounds lovesick, the way you both did once upon a time. Back then, you thought you knew every dark corner of his insatiable heart. “We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you agree, voice frayed. He lifts you gingerly from his lap, adjusting to cradle your naked body to his chest. Despite how Homelander unspools himself before you, you’re always the one left reduced. Bare and vulnerable both physically and emotionally. You slip your arms around his neck as he stands, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I could take you to the tower,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “My bed’s bigger.”

“No,” you say, remembering a door you cannot reach, no matter how many times you grasp for it, and the god’s hands that sent you spinning. He’s already so capable of turning your home into a prison. You’re not sure you’d ever escape his penthouse. “I want mine.”

Perhaps the most terrible fact of all is that Homelander is neither a god nor a monster. 

He is simply a man without limitation.

“Sure,” he says, kissing your cheek. The touch lingers, dripping with his adoration. “Anything you want.”

So long as it includes him.

[lipglossanon]

April Showers

Real Dad!Leon S. Kennedy x real daughter!reader

A Little More Savory tier commission from @ao3-rex1223

Word Count: 2365 (I went over! 🫣)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE, father/daughter incest, nicknames, dirty talk, kissing, shower sex, grinding, nipple play, breeding kink, lactation kink (mentioned), unprotected sex, creampie

Proofread ✍️

The weather app on your phone is nothing but a filthy liar. 

“Sunny with a partly cloudy afternoon, my ass,” you mutter out loud. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” Your dad glances over to you, the downpour soaking his hair until the fringe lay flat on his forehead. 

You keep your eyes firmly above his neck, a Herculean feat since you wouldn’t mind following the water as it drips down his shirt—nearly opaque now and showcasing his mouth-watering pecs. It’s been a stupid, invasive thought that you can’t shake since moving closer to home after graduating. Your dad’s been helping you out around the house, fixing things up, and during one of those times, you accidentally stumbled on him half naked in your bathroom. 

It really wouldn’t have been a big deal; he got covered in some kinda gunk from cleaning the gutters and decided to take a shower before heading back home. Not thinking about it twice, you opened the door to hand him a towel, only to be met with his flexing back muscles and tight ass. He’s been haunting your dreams, whether you wanted him to or not. 

Since then, you’ve been keeping a catalog on what makes him so hot; suffice it to say, the brain rot hasn’t abated in the slightest. 

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh. “How much longer til we make it back to the cabin?”

He glances down at his smart watch, the small face bright in the gloom. “GPS says about another quarter mile.”

Groaning, you tip your head back, raindrops smattering across your face and down your neck. “Who’s bright idea was it to hike today?”

Leon grins, "Believe it was you this time, squirt.”

Trudging forward, you shake your head, “Yuck, you know I hate that nickname.”

“Come on,” your dad needles you, laughing at your sour face. “It’s cute.”

“Uh huh,” you roll your eyes, then gesture to the trail in front of you. “Following your lead here, pops.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand at you and steps out in front. “Make your old man slug it out first. I get it.”

Rolling your eyes again, you give his broad shoulders a light push, meaning it solely as a joke—something you’ve done a thousand times before—however, because of the sudden deluge of water, the trail is nothing but a slippery, muddy mess, and he loses his balance. 

He begins to fall backwards, and you try to catch him, but it’s a moot point; he just has too much weight on you. Both of you crash down onto the ground, Leon sprawled on top of you, leaving you both coated in mud. Wincing, you try to raise up at the same time Leon turns on his side, and you end up pinned underneath his body. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you valiantly stifle the whine in your throat. It’s unfair to have your hot dad pressing you into the ground, pelvis to pelvis, while mud and leaves are seeping into your clothes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughs a little deprecatingly as he finally hoists himself up, stretching a hand out toward you. “Guess we’ll need to clean up in the outdoor shower.”

Heart tripping over itself, you nod, “Sure.”

Turning his back to you, he curses under his breath, “Good thing it’s insulated, huh.”

Head dizzy at the thought of seeing your dad strip down in front of you, you can only cough out a strangled yep. Shooting a look over his shoulder, you smile tightly. 

“Must be a frog in my throat,” you joke weakly. 

It’s enough to make him grin and chuckle. 

“Well, Kermit, let’s get outta here.”

“Does that make you Miss Piggy?”

“Har, har, aren’t you funny?”

“Learned from the best.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, only broken up by the sound of rain and your trampling footsteps. Making it back to the cabin, you follow behind your dad as he walks to the lean-to built onto the side of the building. A shower stall’s setup alongside the house, protected from the elements by the sheltered roof. Glancing at it, it doesn’t seem like a lot, but it's fairly spacious inside with a little shower bench. 

“C’mon,” Leon nods his head at the stall, kicking his boots off and starting to unbutton his jeans. “We’ll both hop in in our undies and get clean in one go. Save time, so we can get started on dinner and warm up.”

You feel faint, blood surging hotly through your veins. “Um, s-sure. Quick and easy, right?”

He chuckles, “That’s the spirit, squirt.”

Arousal dampening a smidge from the silly nickname, it revs back up when he turns his back to you and bends over to take off his jeans and socks. Biting your lip, you press the dough of your thighs together, eyes drinking in his toned form. Once he’s down to his briefs, he steps into the shower stall, holding the door open as he cuts on the water. 

“Hurry it up, sweetheart, haven’t got all day,” he sing songs. 

In no time at all, you stand next to your dad wearing only a sports bra and boy shorts, brain overrun with thoughts of his half naked body. You bite back a gasp when his hand comes up to press between your shoulder blades, ushering you into the shower. He steps in behind you and shuts the door. 

It’s wide but not very deep due to the bench. As you both try to rinse off, you’re rubbing up against your dad in an almost obscene way. You really aren’t doing it on purpose, but he finally grabs you by the hips and stills your movement with a cut off groan. 

“Dad?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles behind you, fingers gripping you tightly as he lets out a breath. “I didn’t—it’s been a while and just—that’s no excuse, ‘m sorry.”

Your heart beats a staccato in your throat, and you rock yourself back, ass brushing against his stiff cock. 

“Oh, dad,” you whimper, and he inhales a sharp breath. “That’s so hot.”

He doesn’t stop you from pressing your ass fully against his chubbed cock, grinding back against him with a moan. His grip shifts, and he guides your hips into a rhythm that makes your toes curl, knowing your dad is getting off to this just as much as you are. 

“Daddy,” you whine, reaching one hand over your head to drape over his shoulder. “Touch me, please.”

His hands move from your hips to drag along your sides until he’s groping your breasts through your flimsy bra.

“Take it off,” he tells you, voice thick with lust. “Show daddy these tits of yours, baby.”

Slick floods the gusset of your panties while you eagerly strip your bra off, dropping it to the shower floor with a splat. His hands immediately grope and squeeze your breasts, fingers tweaking and tugging your hard nipples.

“Daaaad,” you moan, hips rocking back against his while he plays with your tits.

“Hang on,” he mutters, one hand disappearing, and you hear him shift behind you. Glancing down, you see him kick his underwear off to the side, making you whimper.

“There we go,” he sighs, slipping his cock between your thighs. “Mmm, so soft. And..”

He trails off, and you feel him guide his cock up to rub against the outline of your cunt. “So wet, baby. S’this all for me? What a dirty girl.”

He coos the last sentence in your ear and you melt against him, keening low in your throat. “Daddy, please.”

He pulls back and turns you around to face him; your dilated eyes rake down his body, taking in his thick, dripping cock. Leon yanks your panties down, and you step out of them. 

“Pretty pussy,” he groans, fingers skating along your slit, smearing slick along your cunt and his fingers. 

“Dad,” you tilt your head. “Kiss me.”

“Baby,” he rumbles in your ear, and your hands grip onto his biceps, pulling him into a wet kiss. 

He slips his tongue past your parted lips, groaning as he licks into your mouth. You’re so turned on, it feels like your brain is melting from your ears. Leon ruts between your thighs, cock dragging precum all over your pussy lips, parting your slick folds to nudge against your clit. 

“Want it,” you pant, pulling away. “Want your cock.”

“Yeah?” He drops his hand down to grip the base of his dick, guiding the tip until he’s pressing against your hole. “Want daddy to stuff your pretty pussy?”

“Please, please, please,” you chant under your breath, eyes wide as they watch him tease the tip in and out of your fluttering cunt. “Dad, please, I wanna fuck you.”

“God,” he groans, sinking halfway into your snug pussy. “Take it then, sweetheart, since you want it so bad.”

“Yes, yes, oh, fuck,” you moan and whine, hands gripping his shoulders but making sure to keep your nails from scratching him up. No need to give your mom any suspicions. 

Once he’s buried completely in your wet heat, he grabs your thighs and picks you up. Without pulling out, he walks you both back so he can sit down on the bench. Your knees settle on the outside of his thighs, letting you sink down on his cock until the tip kisses your cervix. 

“So deep,” you slur, that pinch of pain making you clamp down on his dick. “Daddy, no one’s ever been this deep.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, hips snapping up, making you squeal as he knocks against the opening to your womb. “This sweet pussy’s never had a dick this big?”

Shaking your head rapidly, you sling water everywhere, “Nooo.”

“Goddamn,” he bites out, pulling you into a spit filled kiss. “Gonna dick down my little girl like she deserves.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble, kissing him between all your little moans and pants. “Give it to me, daddy.”

“Gonna let daddy breed your little pussy, sweetheart? Hmm?” He teases against your lips, warm palm cupping your lower belly. “Put a baby right here if you let me cum in this soft pussy, cream you nice and deep.”

Shuddering, more slick leaks from your cunt, coating his cock, while your nails claw at his back, totally forgetting about not leaving any marks, “Dad, y-you can’t—we shouldn’t, it’s bad.”

“So bad,” he simpers, kissing your neck. “But doesn’t it feel good? C’mon you know you want it. Let daddy stuff your sweet cunt, baby.”

Nodding, you kiss him, sloppily making out underneath the shower spray. His fat tip drags against your g-spot on every thrust, fucking you better than your last boyfriend by far. It really shouldn’t be this good between father and daughter, but now that you know how sweet this forbidden fruit truly is, you never want to stop. 

He pulls away to mouth kisses across your jaw and down your neck, nipping at your pulse point. Drooling, you pant and gasp, knees digging into the tiled bench of the shower as Leon pounds into your clenching heat. 

“Fuck, pussy’s so much better than your moms,” he grunts, fingers digging into your hips. “Like this tight hole’s made for my cock.” 

“Daddy,” you whine, and he groans, biting down on the swell of your breast. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He slows his pace, dragging his cock in and out of your cunt in deep strokes until you’re writhing against him. 

“Want it fast,” you pout. “Please?”

“Don’t like being teased?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss on each of your nipples. “Let daddy play with you a little, sweetheart.”

Clit aching, you rock yourself against him. “But dad—“

“Shhh,” he nips at your stiff nipples, and you whine. “Just let me enjoy it. God, you’re so sexy.”

Pussy fluttering around his cock, you whimper, and he groans in satisfaction. “You like that? Yeah, best little pussy daddy’s ever had.”

He fucks you slow and deep, cock pumping in and out of your pussy while his mouth and tongue tease your nipples. 

“Just think, if you let daddy knock you up, these gorgeous tits will be full of milk.” He bites your nipple roughly, a sharp pleasure that makes your pussy flutter. “Then daddy would have to help milk these fat tits every day.”

You hump down on his cock, thighs burning as you fuck yourself faster and harder against him. “Oh, god, dad, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Fuck,” he groans, moving a hand between your bodies to strum across your senstive bundle of nerves. “Little clit’s so fat and slippery, baby.”

Keening, you thrash against him, arousal building higher and higher until it’s all white noise in your head. “‘M so close.”

“Cum for me, let daddy feel this little cunt squeeze his dick,” he coos. “Be a good girl and cream all over my cock.”

He pinches your clit a little harder, and it’s enough to snap that band wound tight in your lower belly. Your climax hits you hard, pussy squirting slick as your walls clench over and over while you shudder and writhe in his lap.

“Oh fuck,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Squirt’s more than just a nickname, huh?”

Thighs twitching, you slump against him, muscles too weak to keep you up. He wraps his thick arms around you and begins to pound up into your sopping wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum, oh fuck, gonna nut in your hot little pussy, oh, oh, yeah, take it, gonna knock my daughter’s fat pussy up, breed your sweet little cunt,” he babbles against your neck, cock throbbing in your fluttering walls. “Oh, fuuuck.”

He buries himself to the hilt, shooting rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside your puffy cunt, letting your snug pussy milk every drop. He doesn’t pull out when he leans back and takes your chin in hand. Leon tugs you into a soft kiss, the sweetest one that you’ve shared thus far. 

“Let’s go inside and continue this,” he nips your bottom lip. “We’ll worry about the consequences later. Daddy hasn’t had enough.”

He palms your belly, “Gotta make sure it sticks, too.”

A dull throb echoes through your cunt, “Okay, dad.”

[wyvernest]

Oh my god I saw your requests were open and I love eveything you write<33

I See many fics where Miguel is the one who is jealous, but what if the tables turned and the reader is the one who is jealous, maybe she’s a civilian and she feels like he’d be better of with a spider person who understands his work better? I’d love to see him feel sad that his love feels that way can you tell I like pain lol

Thank you so so much<33 wishing you all the best for your exam! I’m sure you’ll do amazing!

shameless

pairing: bf!miguel x f!civilian!reader

warnings: jealousy, fluff, suggestiveness, public display of affection

summary: you're worried that miguel might be better off with a spider-person, but he is eager to reassure you (and everyone else) that you're more than enough

a/n:thank you and i hope you like it! im thinking of making a part 2 with balcony sex above nueva york let me know if yall would want it<3

divider by @cafekitsune

You are aware of the so called disadvantages of him being your boyfriend.

He is handsome, no doubt. But that means a lot more than being able to watch him work around the HQ, swinging your legs and wondering how you landed him.

It means having unfamiliar eyes linger over him more than you'd be able to tolerate. Flirty looks and remarks thrown at him like he's magnetic, regardless of everyone knowing he's with you.

Even walking through the glassy hallways and cloud scratching towers of Spider Society is a stab in the heart. 

Noticing all the single spider-women look him up and down, eyelids heavy with the seconds that passed as they unabashedly stared at his physique; his broad back, the bulky arms and toned thighs, at the way the muscles underneath his suit rippled with every heavy step he took, not letting his weight drop lazily on each foot but rather walking with the energetic strength of a man with insane stamina.

You couldn't stop a venomous surge of anxiety mixed with the most sour amount of jealousy from dripping into your nerves as you met their gazes, seeing how beautiful and charismatic they all were.

How agile and gracious they were, swinging by just to blow Miguel a fleeting kiss.

And you certainly couldn't stop wondering if he'd be better off with one of them. One of his kind. One that would be able to swing alongside him, to practise with him, to accompany him.

One that would understand him better than perhaps you ever could.

You know he loves you, or else you wouldn't be together. But the idea that he maybe even once looked at all the women lining up for him and thought they'd be interesting to try is gutting you out.

And he starts noticing it.

Of course.

He isn't oblivious to how you straightened your back or curled your arms around his when another spider woman passed you with flirty looks or remarks. How you'd shut down and become awfully quiet when you two would get home following one of these encounters.

He couldn't bear to see you unhappy. Some of the times he even felt the sharp sting of guilt poking into his heart, knowing that he was the reason others were upsetting you.

More so, your bond.

You are heading towards his lab at HQ, walking beside him, heart pounding intermittently with anxiety and bubbling anger. Eyes darting around you swiftly, like those of a feral feline making sure no other animal is preparing to jump her and snatch her food from her.

Suddenly, two flowy silhouettes shoot mile long webs far up into a tunnel bridge, only to drop down and swing right past you and Miguel. 

Purring out a simultaneous "¡Hola, Miguel! Looking good today!", reaching their hands down to him while boasting perfect balance with their webs tied to their ankles, they disappear into the distanced skyscrapers of Nueva York, with echoing giddy laughters.

Miguel doesn't move his head in their direction, already way too familiar with such interactions, and already too interested in hearing only one particular ¡Hola, Miguel! - yours.

Only your focus isn't on him. Your mind is running wild with how talented they seemed to be, how flexible and enticing. Already imagining him, playfully swinging with them, his force and precision perfectly matching their grace and melodic rhythm.

A dance you could never participate in.

What you also fail to see is the frown on his face as he turns to you, intrigued and finally ready to catch you off guard.

"¿Qué pasó, amor?" (What happened, love?) He leaned into you, dragging you by your arm to stop you behind a glass pillar. 

You're hauled out of your reverie, eyes widening in panic as you think of something less pathetic and embarrassing to say than the truth.

"Hm? Nothing, I just think they're nice to look at." You motion with your head the direction the two women swung in, clarifying. "Everytime you bring me here, it's all so … breathtaking." You internally wince at the excuse, pulling the best poker face you could muster.

He takes a deep breath, annoyed but patient.

"You know you can tell me anything." He assures you, voice low and whispered so as not to embarrass you in front of the spiders passing by. He is aware that the place isn't the most fitting for the conversation, but any other time he'd tried to coax it out of you, you dismissed it with a "It's nothing. I'm just feeling off today."

Truth be told, he had his suspicions. He is by no means unacquainted with the ways of women, and without a single condescending bone in his body when it came to you, he wants you to spit it out so you could talk about it. So he could untangle the knots in your heart, the doubts about him and your relationship.

"I know." You reply shortly, something in you dying to snap out and tell him everything, but instead, you shut it down at the last moment and decided to leave it at that.

"Then why don't you?" He looms over you, unintentionally, but you start to feel utterly cornered. Your heart is drumming out of your chest, and you are more than certain he can at least hear it. His face reveals his disappointment, however hopeful and attentive he wants to seem.

And just like that, your fronts break down.

"I'm - Don't get me wrong," you trail off, not looking him in the eye. You feel his warm breath fan over your forehead, getting dizzy from the sudden proximity. "I love this place. All the work you put into it.." Your eyes meet his for a fleeting second. "But sometimes it reminds me of how different I am.", You pause, waiting for a response. When he doesn't interrupt, you continue, "How I don't fit in,... here, beside you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He looks almost pissed, as if you had told him he doesn't fit in. As if he was the one that didn't fit you.

"I mean I'm not … them. I'm not a spider."

"I'm aware of that." he retorts, ironically. "When did that stop me from loving you?". His tone is scolding. He is trying to maintain an unaffected demeanor so you would keep talking, but inside, his heart cracks at your words.

Your face heats up, surprised.

"It's not that." You have to actively stop yourself from leaning into his body and hiding into the warmth of his embrace, so that maybe all the jealousy and worry will wash away. But he deserves an explanation, now that you've admitted your feelings. "They know a side of you that I can only imagine. How it feels to be…like you."

His face softens, full of love and pity.

"I'm the odd one out here." You spit out, frustrated with his silence. "I can't give you everything they can!"

"I don't want what they have." He answers quickly, sincerely. You find it hard to believe, even though he's never lied to you.

To you, he's perfect. He deserves everything. Everything he could get.

And you're not enough.

"Escúchame." (Listen to me) He leans closer into you, his breath hot on your face. "Estoy enamorado de ti." (I'm in love with you.) "I only need you to be happy." 

You finally meet his gaze, full of consideration and fondness. You pray to whatever god hears you that he means it, because you're too far gone in your love for him to go back now.

"What will it take for you to just relax and stop being jealous, hm?" He whispers, smugly and amused. It's clear that he's flattered with your sentiments and possessiveness, but wants to nonetheless fix your issues.

You feel yourself getting immersed into the scent of him, his body heat radiating onto yours. You don't quite know the answer yourself. He grabs your waist right above your hips, sending shivers up your spine. Pulling you closer to him, he moves his head to your ear.

"What if I kissed you right here, right now? Let everyone know that I love you, and only you."

Miguel was very clearly overjoyed with the excuse to show you some public affection, especially if it meant having you so flustered and pliant beneath him.

"Would that make you feel better? Knowing they'll be the jealous ones now?"

You nod, more or less consciously, lifting yourself up on your tiptoes almost reflexively.

His warm and eager hands on your waist strengthen their grip, lifting you further up against his body as your feet lose contact with the ground, your chest meeting his. His lips are soft and tender against yours, dancing in a slow, passionate kiss. With your eyes still closed, you hear a few gasps near you in the hall; some happily amused, some offended.

But you don't care. All you care about right now is how he's tilting your head to the side with one of his palms at the back of your neck, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss. 

You continue to make out without a care in the world, just for the whole Spider Society to receive a much needed reminder that Miguel O'Hara is taken. 

His hands knead the supple flesh of your lower back, making your hum softly into his mouth, your own arms curling around his neck in a vicious hold.

When you least expect it, you feel one hand descend swiftly, leaving you no time to react as he grabs at your ass hard, so hard you jolt up against him, eyes snapping open in shock.

Without moving his hand, he presses his nose to your pulse point, exhales sultry on the sensitive skin.

"I have another idea."

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ ⌇ SHARING IS CARING. featuring s. kong + t. fushiguro.

↻ shiu gives toji an offer too good to refuse.

tags : voyeurism, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, cowgirl, mentions of threesomes, slut shaming // wc. 0.7k

author’s note : there isn’t enough shiu content out there ‘m afraid, and it HURTS MEE considering i love him from infinity 2 infinity. toji and shiu are the BADDEST 2man out there and i for one would not mind gettin backshots from both ;p as always, notes n reblogs are much appreciated !! (and thank you for 300 followers!)

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

for TOJI FUSHIGURO, finding work is hard. he can’t exactly just stroll into the next place that’s hiring and hand in his cv like every other person, because unlike every other person, toji’s cv would be filled to the brim with the names of all the people he’s killed.

toji fushiguro is an assassin, and it would be a lie to say that sometimes he doesn’t hate his fucking job.

“you got anything for me?” he sits on his beaten up couch, chopsticks in hand and horse races on the television as he slurps up the last of his cup ramen. “c’mon, boss. there’s gotta be somethin’. everybody wants somebody dead these days.”

“i’m afraid not.” his boss, or more, his contractor, SHIU sighs on the other end of the line. “i told you i’d call if i had anything. work’s tight for me too.”

the line goes silent, and although shiu hasn’t quite hung up yet, toji throws back his head and groans. how hard is it for an assassin to find somebody to kill these days? the whole gig isn’t particularly helpful, either. he gets paid in lump amounts with no idea when his next job is coming through, and at times like this, toji does in fact consider paying a visit to the job centre.

just as he’s about to thank shiu for jack shit and hang up, a muffled whine on the other line drags him out of his thoughts.

“you got your girl there with you, boss?”

“i’m at home. ‘course she’s here with me.”

toji smiles. “hi there, lil’lady. whatcha up to?”

on the other end of the line, you bury your head into shiu’s neck, face flushed as you halt all movement on his lap. “nothin’.”

“don’t sound like nothin’ to me, doll. he treatin’ you good?” toji hears shiu laugh quietly through the phone.

“she doesn’t answer to you, idiot. and for the record, i’m givin’ her everything she needs and more, isn’t that right, baby?” he grinds his hips upwards and you gasp at the feeling of his tip nudging your sweet spot. “tell him how good ‘m treatin’ you.”

by this point, toji’s muted the races and put down his chopsticks, switching his phone to loudspeaker and balancing it on his shoulder so he can hear every sweet sound you’re making. his cock is out of his sweats in no time, precum staining his shirt as his tip presses up onto his abdomen.

“ ‘s g-good,” you hiccup, tears in your eyes as shiu rests a hand on your ass and starts to move you back and forth on his length. “so good, ‘n so big.”

“mm, bet that’s right, angel,” toji drawls, hand occupied with fisting his cock in time with the faint shlicking sounds echoing through his speaker. “how ‘bout next time, you get two cocks instead of one?”

“don’t get too ahead of yourself, zenin. she’s my bitch.” shiu’s tone is sour as he bucks his hips upwards, causing you to whine out.

“yeah, but I bet that slut would take it if we gave it to her.” toji grins, hand quickening when he hears you groan on the other end of the line. “sounds like she’d like that. ‘n i already told you, it’s fushiguro.”

“same difference.” it sounds like shiu’s struggling to maintain an even tone when he feels you clench down on him hard, teeth gritting as your nails dig into the fabric of his suit. “but i agree, it seems like she likes your idea. next time, instead of paying you a lump sum, i’ll let you fuck her instead.”

toji smiles, head tilting backwards as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. “nuh-uh, i still want my money.” his thumb flicks over the slit on his tip, swiping up the precum and spreading it along his pulsing length. “but i’ll take you up on your offer. cant want to try out her sweet cunt.”

on the other end of the line, you squeal, walls clamping down on shiu as you reach your climax. a loud slap resounds through toji’s phone and he grunts, ropes of white painting his knuckles as he finishes in his palm.

“she came too early. only started fuckin’ her since the time you called.”

“sounds like you haven’t been treating your bitch too well, boss, otherwise she wouldn't have been so desperate.” toji smiles, looking at the mess on his hands and shirt. “call me when you have another job. can’t wait to get my sweet reward.”

and with that, he hangs up.

PREVIOUS : DRESS UP DOLL ft. satoru gojo NEXT : FWB ft. aki hayakawa

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[cooneyscross]

Better Keep Your Mouth Shut

Kyra x Sunny -> part one

summary: You've managed to keep your relationship a secret but can a drunk Kyra keep her mouth shut?

Kyra had only joined Arsenal a week ago but already people thought it was strange how close the two of you were with each other.

They all thought it was weird how you already seemed to have hundreds of little inside jokes that you would always be giggling about at training, and how you'd been out for coffee almost every day.

When people questioned it you'd both play it off saying that you'd clicked and wanted to get to know each other better. But in reality you were making up for lost time when you didn't have to chance to do this.

The girls would complain that they couldn't be friends with Kyra because you hogged her and you'd grin and claim it because you were the best person in the world and you couldn't blame her for wanting to be your friend.

Steph, who seemed to be the most suspicious, had even gone as far as trapping you in the changing rooms. Her eyes had been sharp, filled with a mixture of suspicion and concern as if she could tell what was going on. 'Why is Kyra always clinging to you?' Steph had demanded and it was the first time you'd struggled to smoothly answer.

'I've just been looking after her... making sure she settled in ok,' You stammered, trying to keep your tone casual, Steph was like Kyra's mum and you didn't want her to get mad. 'It can be really scary making this big of a move, you should know that.'

Steph's eyes stayed trained on your for a minute longer before she shrugged, either believing you or giving up trying. 'Caitlin must be right, Kyra's obviously going to make friends with the biggest pest on the team.'

Even though you were happy to finally be able to spend time with your girlfriend, not over facetime with an annoying time difference, you didn't want to stop her from being able to make friendships with the other girls on the team.

Overall the two of you had done a pretty good job at keeping it undercover, only once had the secret almost slipped.

Kyra didn't mean to she just hadn't been thinking about it when her and Alessia were leaving the cafe they had just had lunch in together.

'I need to pick up some chocolate for dinner tonight. It’s Sunny’s favorite.' The blonde had said as they walked along the street.

Kyra’s eyes lit up, smiling softly as she remembered all the times you'd begged her to get chocolate. 'Oh, that's a great idea she's obsessed with the marvelous creations you should grab that. Also get some Sour Patch Kids too. She always craves sour stuff after chocolate.'

Alessia raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Kyra confused as to why the Aussie knew so much about a girl who she'd only met a week ago. 'That's pretty specific... has she always been like that?'

Kyra nodded enthusiastically, her mood lifting as she gets to talk about you. 'Yeah, always telling me how she needs that sour kick to balance out the sweetness. She'll give me the silent treatment if I don't let her eat them. Funny how she’s got such specific cravings, right?'

Alessia’s suspicion grew with every word. 'So you’ve been hanging out with Sunny a lot then?'

Only then did Kyra realise the mistake she'd made, the way she was talking about you made it seem like you'd known each other for ages which you had, but nobody else was meant to know that. She mentally cursed at herself for not realising sooner. 'Yeah, a bit. But she's always going on about how she loves that combination. I guess it just stuck with me.”

As they entered the store, Alessia couldn’t help but wonder how Kyra knew so much about Sunny’s preferences in such a short time. The details seemed too precise for a friendship that was only a week old, leaving Alessia increasingly intrigued and wary.

Currently you were all at a team gathering and Viv and Beth's house, the whole team catching up before the start of the season. You'd told yourself you wouldn't drink tonight, knowing when you do you normally ended up doing something stupid. However you broke that promise the minute Katie had teased you and called you a chicken.

So that's how you ended up leaning heavily on the kitchen island an empty shot glass in your hand, matching ones scattered on the table. A smug grin plastered to your face as you watched Katie struggle to down her drink.

'Who's the chicken now.' You laugh making chicken noises and only stopping when she whacks you in the arm making you wince.

'Piss off McCabe,' you huff rubbing your arm even though it didn't even hurt that bad. You just liked to make a scene out of things. 'You're such a sore loser, I can't believe you thought you could beat me in a drinking game I never loose.' You smirk at her even as she flips you off before you decide you don't want to deal with a drunk and angry Katie, instead going to find Vic.

'Hellooooo.' You smile stretching out the word as you wrap an arm around your best friend, sitting down next to her on the couch as she talks to Leah and Lia.

When sees you she rolls her eyes lightly, 'I thought you said you weren't gonna drink tonight.' You grin sheepishly.

'What do you mean, I haven't.' You lie causing her to roll her eyes again but you know she's not seriously annoyed as a small, amused smile plays at her lips.

'Well when your throwing up tonight, don't expect me to hold your hair back for you.' She teases moving her body so her legs are resting on you and you groan trying to push them off but failing.

'that's not true, you always hold my hair.' You tell her knowing that she may act annoyed but she's always there for you at the end of the night just like you are for her. She shakes her head and you move your face closer to hers 'admit it, you love me.' She laughs, gently pushing your head away from hers before the two of you join in with Leah and Lia's conversation.

You don't realise that as this happens Kyra is watching you from the corner of the room, where she is talking to Katie and Caitlin. Her attention far from the conversation as she gets sick of Katie complaining that you must've cheated.

Instead she's watching you with Vic, your arms wrapped around the Dutch's body and her legs casually resting on your lap. When you lean your face closer to hers she can't help but feel a pang of jealousy in her heart seeing you like that with someone else.

She knows her thoughts are irrational, you and Vic are just bestfriends, she's like this with Charli as well so she shouldn't be jealous but she is. She blames the alcohol for making her feel this way.

When your head rests on Vic's shoulder she leaves the room wanting to find someone else to talk to bored of Katie's complaining. She didn't expect to find Stina, Frida, Steph and Beth all laughing loudly as Kim stood in the middle of the room singing loudly to a song Kyra couldn't recognize.

When the other four notice her presence they all grin at her. 'You're next Kyra.' Steph laughs loudly handing Kyra a hairbrush and pushing her to where Kim used to be standing. She then plays a song and it takes a minute for her to realise what it is but when she does she let's out a little laugh before singing loudly.

Normally she wouldn't be this comfortable performing in front of people she hardly knew, but the alcohol surging through her veins seemed to have given her a surge of confidence.

Meanwhile, you're still stuck on the couch with Vic. Her legs on top of you stopping you from leaving. Your interrupted from the conversation by Alessia's loud voice in your ear.

'Sunny, you've got to see this!' She screams, pulling you up causing Vic's legs to fall to the ground a small whine escaping her lips.

'Hey! I was comfy.' She complains but her cries are unheard as Alessia is already dragging you through the crowded room. She was pulling you up the hallway and only when you got closer could you hear Taylor Swift's voice breaking the quietness.

It was only as you reached the door that you could hear another voice screaming loudly along with the song. the off-key wails you immediately recognized as Kyra's, and you immediately understood why Alessia wanted you to see the scene in front of you.

Kyra was completely wasted with a hairbrush in one hand and a glass of some alcoholic liquid in the other. The hairbrush was being used as a microphone with Kyra screaming the lyrics of You Belong with Me. Steph and Beth were dancing along together and Frida was laughing from the couch her phone trained on Kyra as she filmed the madness.

'Why can't you see-e-ee you belong with me!'

'Sunny please stop her, she's been playing this song on repeat like four times.' You laugh at the pained look on Stina's face as she speaks.

'Kyra! what the fuck are you doing.' You shout getting the Aussie's attention. When she sees you her whole face lights up and she runs over to hug you.

'Why were you being so cuddly with Vic.' She pouts, dropping the hairbrush onto the ground. You were always like that with Vic, and Kyra knew you only meant it in a friendly manner so you frowned.

'When.'

'Just then, on the couch.' She whined squeezing you a little bit.

You had no idea why she was so upset, you were just sitting together.

'Kyra Lilee Cooney-Cross, you've got to be fucking with me! You can't seriously be jealous of Vic!' You push her away lightly remembering where you were and that nobody knew about you and Kyra. She pouted as you looked around the room checking to see if anyone was watching you, which thankfully they weren't all caught up in their own stuff.

'it's not funny.' she puffed, crossing her arms like a 4 year old. By now Steph and Beth had changed the song and were both now in their own little world dancing away as everyone else watched their performance.

'Alright, I'm sorry.' You roll you eyes at her pettiness forgetting how dramatic Kyra could get when she'd have something to drink. 'I'll order a uber and we can get going when it arrives.' You offer and she huffs one more time before strolling off.

You laugh lightly at the girl watching her walk away from you walking into the door and swearing at it before going out of sight. You pull out your phone and open up the Uber app but are interrupted before you can order one.

Leah grabs your arm pulling you into the middle of the circle with her. 'C'mon little gooner,' she grins at you, using the nickname she had for you one that she started calling you when you first joined the senior team resulting in you calling her big gooner. 'It's our turn for karaoke.'

Someone chucks you the hairbrush which you catch with ease as the music starts blasting through the speaker and you instantly recognize the tune of 'The Angel' and you laugh. 'Manu, was this your idea?' You look towards the Austrian and roll your eyes playfully before you start singing the lyrics along with Leah. People laughing as you try to hit the notes but fail drastically.

When it gets to the chorus the whole room starts singing along.

'North London forever, whatever the weather.' Leah wraps an arm around your shoulder.

'These streets are our own.' You smile despite how awfully out of tune everyone is 'and my heart will leave you never, my blood will forever run through the stone.'

Eventually the song ends and every breaks into a round of applause you and Leah laughing as you take a bow.

'Who's next?' Beth shouts and when no one puts their hands up Beth stands up and grabs the hairbrush from your hand picking a song of her own.

You squeeze next to Caitlin on the small armchair she's sitting on, flicking her in the shoulder knowing she's was extra irritable when she'd had a drink.

'Fuck off, I'm not in the mood for it tonight.' She groans pushing you away, but its no use and the arm rests block you from going anywhere so you're still stuck pressed up against her side, 'Katie's been talking my ear off all night, and I was trying to get a break from it now but of course you had to ruin it.' She sighs and you grin at her reaction.

'Speaking of katie, where is she?' realising you hadn't seen katie since you beat her in that drinking game.

'Her and Kyra are in the kitchen, their both pissed.'

You frown to yourself, remembering you told Kyra you'd call and Uber but you'd not been able to when Leah had distracted you. You get off the chair and walk into the kitchen.

'I still can't believe you have a girlfriend, that you've never told us about before.' Alessia says, looking shocked at the news.

'She's so pretttyyyy.' Kyra was drunkenly rambling on to a slightly less drunk Alessia. 'L-like she's perfect. And it's not fair that she doesn't think I'm perfect.' The aussie whined sadly.

An equally intoxicated Katie frowned dramatically, 'well then she fucking stupid.' she decided through a hiccup.

Kyra gasped as it was the most offensive thing she'd even heard. 'Don't say that.' she pouted with a heated glare towards Katie.

'it's true.' Katie sniffed, waving her hand in the air mindlessly and accidentally slapping Kyra on the face.

Kyra let out a shriek as though Katie had full on punched her and lifted her hand, slapping the Irish back with no strength, it was more of a pat on the cheek.

Katie gasped loudly leaning over to hit Kyra back and seeming to forget she was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter resulting in her falling off and landing on the floor.

And that's how you found them, a red faced and frowning Katie lying on the floor as though she had been shot, a giggling Kyra rocking from side to side where she was perched on the counter and a tired Alessia who still had a vague look of shock on her face as she was still thinking about the news Kyra had just broke.

'Normally I'm the one who has to be looked after on nights out.' You mumble, amused at the sight before you.

Katie pushed herself off of the floor so fast you were worried she'd injure herself but she didn't even notice, instead her face lit up making you confused before she yells out; 'Foordy!'

Caitlin groans from behind you and you realised she must've followed you, the aussie barely has time to prepare herself before Katie launches herself into her arms.

You grinned at them, shooting Caitlin a teasing smile as Katie snuggles herself into the crook of her neck and even let out a hum of complete content.

You only look away from the amusing yet adorable scene when you hear Kyra whisper to Alessia who had her eyes shut and was resting her head on Kyra's shoulder now. You were unsure if she was sleeping or trying to but you prayed it was the former as Kyra loudly whispered 'She's so pretty.'

Alessia just mumbles before a quiet snore escapes her lips and you allow yourself to go and sit next to Kyra.

'Talking about me love?' You question cheekily, this time speaking in an actual whisper so no one else can hear.

'Yeah.' Kyra whispered back, to out of her normal mindset to tease you or be cocky, instead she sounded so sincere that your heart fluttered a little bit. Her big eyes staring up at you hopelessly as you smiled tenderly.

'Well thank you.' You smiled softly, giving her a little squeeze not wanting to do anything more knowing that if Caitlin sees she's likely to remember as she's not as shit faced as Katie is.

'It's ok, it's the truth.' Kyra sleepily smiled back at you, her eyes drooping as she leans on your shoulder, Alessia groaning from the sudden movement rubbing her eyes as she moves into a sitting position.

It takes her a while to adjust, seeming as though she must've forgotten where she was after falling asleep. When she sees you her eyes light up a little bit a grin falling on her face 'Sunny you're here.' Her words are still slurred showing that she hasn't sobered up yet, 'did Kyra tell you the big news, she has a girlfriend!'

The smile falls off your face, and you feel your hands start to sweat as nerves take over. 'really?' You manage to say weakly, you weren't prepared for everyone to know 'did she say who it was?' You ask praying that even drunk Kyra would be smart enough to not tell them.

'No.' You feel your heartbeat ease but the smile on the strikers face falters, clearly disappointed that Kyra hadn't revealed who, before she beams again 'but she kept going on about how caring and funny she was, I wish I had someone to love me like that.' The blonde sighs looking into the distance as you smiled fondly at the other girl who's head rested on your shoulder.

'So pretty.' Kyra mumbles half asleep and your smile grows before Alessia looks back at her a coos.

'Oh Sunny, you've got to help me find out who she is.' She says excitedly, and you nod weakly trying to act as if you had no clue who it could be. After seeing your reaction Alessia squeals hopping off the table, 'I've got to tell the others the big news.'

'Maybe it can just be our little secret for now.' You suggest not wanting everyone to know as they'd all pester Kyra non-stop and she was never good under pressure.

'I guess, but Katie knows as well.' You sigh bringing a hand up to your face knowing that Katie wouldn't be able to keep her big mouth shut, all you could do was hope that she'd be to drunk to remember this in the morning.

Once Alessia's left the room, you're alone with only Kyra.

'Baby it's time to go, the Ubers here.' You gently shake her causing her to groan and hug you tighter burying her face in your chest. 'You can stay at my place tonight, we can just tell Steph that you crashed on the couch.' You tempt her and a small smile forms on her face.

'Cuddles?'

'Of course.' After hearing your response she quickly hops up and grabs your hand, helping you off the counter and pulling you to walk beside her and out of the house. 'Shouldn't we say goodbye?'

'It will be fine, they probably won't even notice we're gone. Now stop trying to stop me from spending time with my girlfriend.' She whines and you laugh kissing her on the nose to quiet her complaints.

'Better?' You joke rubbing her back before sliding your arm around her waist.

'I think I'm going to need more than that.' She says a mischievous glint in her eyes. You place a small kiss on her lip, intending for it to only be a quick peck but she senses your plan and wraps her arms tightly around you stopping you from moving as she deepens the kiss.

'Kyra.' You mumble between her lips, 'someones going to see us if we keep going.' after a bit of wiggling around you finally are free of her grasp.

You gasps, acting hurt as she places her hand to heart 'my own girlfriend doesn't love me.' she exclaims dramatically and you laugh.

'You're hearts on the other side silly.' You state moving her hand to the correct position as she goes red.

'I knew that, just testing you.' she lies a grin on her face as she does.

By now your out on the street waiting in the cold for your Uber, noticing your shivering Kyra wraps an arm around you pulling you closer trying to warm you up with some of her body heat.

'I love you Ky.' You say softly, the sound of your voice the only noise in the peaceful night sky.

'Love you more.'

'Don't think that's possible.'

She doesn't have the chance to retaliate as your Uber pulls up and you both hop into the back of the car, hands still intertwined as you do so. You quickly tell the driver your address as they begin the drive home.

You and Kyra sit in a comfortable silence both staring out the window and it's only when you look to your left that you realise the sad expression on Kyra's face.

'What's wrong my love?' You ask squeezing her hand as she turns around to face you.

'It’s nothing,' she mumbles, her voice barely audible. But when you give her a stern look, she exhales heavily, her frustration palpable. 'Fine. Tonight, I kept watching Caitlin, Katie, Viv, and Beth—seeing them so effortlessly happy together. It made me ache because I want that too. I want to be able to be with you like that. I want to show you off and kiss you without having to sneak around. I want to hold your hand in public, cuddle with you on the couch, call you ‘baby’ and ‘my love’ without the constant fear of hiding. I’m tired of pretending we’re just friends when all I want is to be able to be your girlfriend.'

You weren't expecting those words to fall out of her mouth and when you do it makes your heart sting a little. What she was saying was true, you felt that way to but you were too scared of all the bad things that could happen if you did tell everyone.

'Oh baby.' You look into her brown eyes which are slightly moist and you can feel her pain, 'I'm sorry for making you feel this way, I didn't know it was upsetting you but if you want we can tell the others. It's up to you.'

She looks torn, trying to decide how to respond. She opens her mouth before shutting it then opening it again, 'that would be nice, but maybe we can wait a little longer. We'll see what it's like after the season starts.' She suggests and you nod, yawning loudly as a sudden rush of exhaustion enters your body.

'Let's get home and rest we can talk about this tomorrow.' You tell her, eyelids becoming to heavy to keep open much longer. The relief you feel when you feel the car stop and see your familiar apartment building just outside the window is welcomed and you rush to quickly pay the driver before getting out of the car.

Once you get into your apartment you and Kyra both make a beeline for the bedroom, equally as ready as the other for a good sleep. You chuck her a pair of pajamas she left last time she'd stayed the night which she puts on whilst you do the same.

Your quickly in bed her head resting on your chest as you play with her hair causing a sigh to fall from her mouth.

'Goodnight love.' She whispers into the darkness.

'Night baby.'

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main Part 5

Masterpost

“We have to stop for snacks!” 

“We are not stopping for snacks.”

They started this conversation two whole minutes ago.

“We have to stop for snacks! It is a quintessential part of the road trip experience. This is our first road trip. Do you really want to deprive your family of the full experience?”

Apparently, the Waynes have never been on a full road trip, usually flying places instead, so Dick is insisting we make this a whole experience. Danny is willing to bet car games will be played at some point.

“It’s a long drive, we’re not stopping unless necessary.”

Danny wonders how long the discussion can last as it reaches the four minute mark. 

“ But-”

Tim taps Dick on the shoulder to shut him up. “I have to go to the bathroom.” He deadpans at Bruce. 

Bruce looks at him in the rearview mirror, looks back at the road, looks back at Tim. Bruce sighs.

“Everybody is going to the bathroom. We can get some snacks, and then we are not stopping for at least four hours.” 

Dick cheers, and Danny chuckles at Tim’s smirk. They’ve only been on the road for forty-five minutes, by all rights no one should have to go to the bathroom yet, but Danny was enjoying the family banter in the car.

The first forty-two minutes of the drive was mostly just everyone settling in, Dick in the front as navigator, though it didn’t seem like Bruce needed directions. Danny had asked and he’d never been to Illinois before, but they’re probably still in familiar territory, he might need a map later. Danny is in the back seat, sitting behind Bruce, Tim is sitting behind Dick. Dick and Tim both brought backpacks with them for the drive, Tim has at least two tablets in his. Danny knows they put a bunch of stuff in the trunk as well,  overnight bags and other assorted items, he thinks he saw a pillow. Danny knows somebody went to pack something for him/Jason when they get there, but doesn’t know who. He doesn’t have any entertainment, because he doesn’t have anything except Jason’s phone on him. 

They pull into a gas station, Bruce is determined to get the most out of this stop. Bruce pumps the gas as Danny, Dick, and Tim head inside. They do all go to the bathroom, and Bruce comes in to use the restroom as they raid the snack aisles. Tim has three canned coffees in his hands.

“You know if you drink all of those we’ll have to stop again.” Danny points out. “ Plus it’s late, can you not sleep in cars?”

“Can’t sleep at all usually. We’ll see, but I have some stuff to work on anyway.” Tim points to the drink displays. “Anything you’d like?” 

Danny knows that they don’t mind paying for him, at this point it has been debated multiple times, and he knows he won’t make the whole trip without any snacks. He grabs a Monster and a Gatorade for the road. They meet Dick in the chip aisle. It looks like he’s already grabbed one of every candy, and he’s well on the way to one of every chip.

“Hey, what do you like Danny?” Danny stares at all the food precariously balanced in his arms.

“If you’re sharing, I think we’re good.” 

Dick and Tim laugh.

“We will be sharing most of this. I got all of our favorites, but everyone has something that they’re not willing to share as well. Why don’t you pick out something that’s just for you.”

Tim has grabbed sour gummy worms and is making his way to the checkout counter where Bruce is waiting with a very resigned look on his face. Danny grabs a bag of beef jerky and walks with Dick to the checkout. The look on Bruce’s face when Dick walks up with his arms full is hilarious and Danny actually snorts at Bruce’s ‘I can’t control these children’ apologetic look he gives the cashier as Dick dumps his haul onto the counter.

They pile back into their seats, the seat between Tim and Danny now stuffed with all the snacks. There is not one empty cup holder left in the car. They spend the next short stretch getting resettled, opening up their first snacks and drinks. Tim Pulls out a tablet, but doesn’t start working on anything, too busy texting someone. Danny considers pulling out his phone, remembers it’s not his, and then decides not to. He wouldn’t know the password anyway, maybe he can ask if his brother’s know what it would be.

They’d just about hit the first hour mark on their 12-hour trip when Dick turns around in his chair to face the backseat. Danny sees him slip his phone away.

“Hey, Danny, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Tim has put his phone down.

“Well, I’m still in highschool. Should graduate soon, hopefully.” Danny starts tapping his fingers on his thighs. He hopes he can graduate. “You know I have a sister in college. I have another sister, she’s a traveler, she doesn’t do school.” 

“Do you like school?” Dick prompts.

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I’m not great at it. I like learning, but it’s not a great school and there’s only so much learning you can do from inside a locker.” 

“You fit in a locker?” Tim asks.

Danny looks at himself, quickly realizing that they have no idea what he looks like as he sees Jason’s bulky frame. He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with a hand.

“Ha, yeah. I’m more…. Tim to Damian size? I think I’m around your height.” He said in Tims direction. “Maybe an inch or two shorter, but I have no muscle mass, so It’s a bit of a squeeze but I fit well enough. Never get stuck. Tucker got stuck once.” 

Dick frowns. “Do a lot of people end up in lockers at your school?” 

“Sure. Me, Tucker, Mikey… Maybe Wes if he ever really pisses someone off. But he’s more likely to annoy me than Dash, and I’m not going to shove him in a locker.”

Tim nods sagely, like he understands high school. Dick is frowning like he doesn’t. 

“Dash a sports guy?” Tim asks.

Danny nods. “Football quarterback and basketball.”

“Geek or nerd?” 

“Personally, nerd probably.” Danny thinks about it. “But there’s not much opportunity to explore engineering and space in high school, so I’m mostly average. Tucker is a big geek, he’s great with computers. Does most of the coding for my more technological fixes when I’m working on my parent’s stuff.”

“You work with your parents a lot?” Dick’s phone chimes, but he ignores it.

“Not with them so much as on their stuff. They create it, they come up with a lot of cool stuff. I reverse-engineered a lot of it once it’s done.” 

“You said a lot of it was weapons?” Tim’s phone dings. “Damian says not to ignore his text.” 

“Oh!” Dick grabs for his phone.

“Some. They built other stuff as well, but they specialize in weapons and defenses against ghosts.” 

Dick immediately turns back to look at him. “Ghosts?” 

Danny could hear the doubt in his voice. He sighs. “Yeah, they’re ecto-biologists. Amity has a big ghost problem, that’s why we live there, they wanted to study them.” Danny has a slight shiver, but suppresses it. “They develop a lot of technology using ectoplasm-” Danny shudders for real this time. His squeezes his eyes closed, feeling a deep roiling in his gut that is vaguely nauseating, and a fire in his brain that is making his blood feel like it's burning. This is strange. His brain goes on overdrive, thinking about his parents, the blob ghosts he has had to free from their basement, the threats they make, them shooting at him. Danny recognises the churning in his body as ectoplasm riling up a core. His core.

But he’s not in his body, he shouldn’t have… Jason has died too. Danny opens his eyes and they’re glowing.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: How protective are they of their S/O?

Characters: Dorm Leaders (for now).

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland.

A/N: I did one of these for my fire emblem blog…and probably will do for a few other fandoms on this one. I really had to get that Malleus brainrot out of my head omg this was just what i needed.

Riddle Rosehearts

6/10

Very rarely does someone describe Riddle as ‘calm’. The words are not synonymous and do not belong in the same sentence. Then again, not many ever imagined that he would take on a partner either.

More so - that someone would be willing to be his partner. With all the mandatory gatherings, expectations, unprompted lecturing, overbearing perfectionism - yes. Riddle is a ball of anxiety that touches everyone and every thing. Being his s/o is welcoming that for a daily basis (perhaps life)

He is shockingly anything but these things when he is truly in love. Riddle trusts his partner to handle themselves, and believes a hardened shell is good for navigating the world. He will not baby his partner, because he does not want to be smothered in turn.

You will walk along side him. Head held high with the figment of a crown balanced atop it. A Ruler, not a subject - and he will smile on you with pride.

However, this does not make him heartless. He is not protective of you in a physical or social sense…but boy does he get jealous. In the worst ways as well. Riddle is too prideful to get defensive in public so for most acute cases it manifests underneath his skin. He lets the irritation of other students’ flirting fester until he becomes passive aggressive. Heartslabyul students experience war flashbacks to before his ‘change of heart,’ as he goes sour for days, weeks…possibly even a month if his spouse does not reassure him. He cannot handle being ignored or anyone openly making advances on you with him near. It’s disrespectful both towards you and him (do they NOT see him? He is perfectly visible and WILL collar someone).

On one final note. He also has a low tolerance for verbal slander or vulgar talking. Sexual. If you haven’t picked up on it already. If he so much as hears a slither of a suggestive comment…he will kill someone. It’s one thing to hear someone call your partner beautiful. Riddle knows you are. People would be blind not to notice…but that kind of talk? The thought that someone would envision his partner in such a way and dare to speak of it? The disrespect on your name? They’re dead. Expelled. Gone. Kicked out of the dorm if they’re one of his even though no Heartslabyul member would dare speak of you that way.

"Excuse me? Just what is it that you think you are doing? Such lechery is cause for lifetime punishment! Have you no shame?! I would report this to the headmaster but I am often told to be more selfish. Perhaps now is a good time to start. What should be your punishment, hm?"

Leona KingScholar

8/10

Leona is not going to admit it. He really won’t. He’ll push and tell you to leave him be nearly every day…but the moment you start to walk he’s right on your heels.

At some point your bedroom at Ramshackle became his from the frequency of him sleeping over. He took over your dresser, booted Grimm to the armchair, and even brought over his bedsheets/pillows.

Pah. “They’re better quality than these rags,” my ass. He just wants his scent on you and what better way to make it happen then to sleep in his sheets.

Is it alright for the head of another dorm to never be around? Unlikely. However, no one has complained about their bossy senior being missing so all is well.

Like Riddle, Leona recognizes your strength. You handle more stress on the daily than he is willing to put up with. However, no one f*cks with you when he is present. Not unless they want to be pummeled. It takes a mighty ego for someone to think that they can get away with insulting Leona’s s/o right in front of him. Let alone threaten you.

Even jokingly. The only people allowed to do that are those he trusts. He knows that a slap on the wrist from Ruggie or your heartslabyul pups won’t do damage - but someone else? Leona has a newfound hatred for people like Floyd since they drag you into trouble. One misplaced step in your direction and Leona’s snaking his tail around your waist and partially shielding you.

Low-key he has anxiety about you going missing. If you do not show up for lunch in the garden (which is routine) then he gets irritable, and if you are going out late at night then he either tries to convince you to stay home or tags along begrudgingly. Even on your walks with Malleus. No, especially on your walks with Malleus.

Which leads us to the final protective criteria. Jealousy. Have you seen the movie Lilo and Stitch? Do you know the scene where Lilo is showing stitch the drawing of his “good vs.bad” and his badness levels were super high? Leona. Leona with his jealousy.

He will act cocky all he wants with the whole “everyone knows you’re with me shtick,” but he is one possessive mf. If he so much as sees one wandering eye? Doom. Not “i will pummel you,” doom but “i am going to ruin your reputation” doom because Leona calls it out instantly. No perverts on his watch and ESPECIALLY no flirts. The only person who gets to make Leona’s s/o blush is him. No cap.

"Oi! Where do you think you're looking? Yeah, you. The dazer. I'll give you something to gawk at - huh? Fine, but if they so much as step near then I am not backing down,"

Azul Ashengrotto

6/10

Two words. Floyd. Jade. Enough said.

The relationship between Azul and the twins is hella overused, but for good reason. These two are literally his right and left hand.

Azul is a worry wart. This number would break the scale if the tweel brothers did not exist. You can’t blame him for his anxieties either. You are the ONE thing that Azul cannot control. If he could, Azul would draft the perfect contract where you would live in a safe bubble with just him. Except that’s wrong, and you would not be happy.

He doesn’t want to control you. He wants you to be happy but he simply cannot help the anxiety. Out of all the dorm leaders, he has the most enemies. He also has experience with abandonment, bullying, and overall has low self confidence. All this feeds into his protectiveness because you are the one constant in his life that he wants to keep safe.

Introducing the twins. The buffer. His in-between on being an overbearing partner and normalcy. He doesn’t even have to ask them for help, because Jade and Floyd love you too. They keep an eye out when Azul can’t, and it brings comfort. Sadly you’re wrapped up in more scuffles than Azul finds comfortable…and he can’t stop you. He tried. You’re just too nosy…but wherever you go you are supported. He freaks the heck out if you ever come to him bruised, or if the grapevine carries bad news, but he knows that if the twins aren’t spooked then you’re all good.

He worries about you leaving him willingly. Either you wake up and decide that he isn’t your match, that you won’t want to join him after graduation, or you might even decide to leave Twisted Wonderland all together. Azul is happy that Crowley is a lazy liar because it means that you have no way to leave. It’s selfish…but he can’t help it. You have to understand that for Azul? There is no one else. Only you. He is not the type to love twice, this is a one and done deal.

Which is precisely why he is easily jealous as well. Not to the extent of causing an altercation, but he can and will assert dominance. He may feel unworthy but when did that ever stop Azul? ‘Fake it until you make it’ as they say, and Azul will make whatever soul who dared to step in his territory feel like smeared shit underneath his shoe.

"Ah! Angelfish~ I missed you dearly. I hope your wrist is feeling better from that spill in poison making - how do I know about that? Oh the walls have ears, y'know. Can I get you something to drink?"

Kamil Al’ Asim

2/10

Head empty. Brain go brrrrrrrr

Just kidding. Kalim's head is full of thoughts. Some about class, others about his siblings, friends, maybe tomorrow's lunch - and you. He thinks a lot about you. Your smile, your laugh, when he'll see you next and if you'll call him soon. His heart is too full of positive thoughts to worry.

It's really that simple. Kalim is too optimistic to be protective. The idea of you cheating on him hasn't crossed his mind once. If someone flirts with you? Well, so long as your cool with it then heck yeah. He agrees. He supports it because you deserve to be praised.

Which...actually ends up chasing people off anyways. Someone calls you gorgeous? Comments on your clothes or maybe compliments you on your performance during the last exam? You bet Kalim is right there egging them on. He is the poster boy of the golden-retriever supportive boyfriend. Spewing his speech about how you're amazing and that he is so lucky to have you. It gets embarrassing but it does the job. By the time he's done your pursuer either got annoyed and gave up...or recognized that it would be impossible to match Kalim's love. Only an idiot would break up with someone who adores the very ground they walk on, and you are no idiot.

Tell him to stop and he won't because (1) he loves seeing you flustered. It's like a reward and (2) he refuses to let his love go unknown. In other words, everyone knows that you are taken. There is not a single soul at Night Raven College that hasn't heard about Kalim's simpery for the prefect.

Another unconscious checkmark. Money is power, and Kalim's family has a lot of if. They've funded more events at NRC than Crowley has the will to remember. No one. And I mean NO ONE. Would even tinker with hurting you. It's funny how the moment you start to date Kalim, the hole in Ramshackle's living room gets fixed by the next day. Y'know, the one that's been weathered for months and letting all the heat out. The heat from the fireplace because Ramshackle never got proper thermal vents installed. All the broken locks in your dorm were changed, and there was a lovely fruit-basket sitting outside on the porch. Compliments of the NRC staff <3

Let's not forget about the uhh...extra support from Jamil. I know. I know. Jamil caring for Kalim's s/o is a given. He'd do it even if he wasn't asked. The fact is that Kalim requests for Jamil to help you. Kalm has the fortunate luxury of most things being handled on his behalf. He has no reason to worry because there are instilled factors put in place to prevent the emotion from being supported.

Yet, he is of mind to recognize that being with him has costs. He knows that you can handle your own, but what about threats you don't expect? The money grubby kiss-asses and subtle dangers like poison. He's not stupid. You're new to Twisted Wonderland and there is so much about this world that you don't know. He wants to help you personally, but knows that it would do more harm than good. So he confides in Jamil, and then never speaks of it again.

"I'm sure that they will be alright but can you keep an eye just in case? Don't let them know or they might feel scared!...really? Thank goodness! I am meeting them soon so byebye for now. Remember to keep this a secret, Jamil! Hehe~"

Vil Schoenheit

2/10

He's a narcissist

This one is a bit short, and for good reason. Vil's ego.

Vil needs to be perfect. Has to. He truly is the fairest and will be perceived as no less. The voice in his head may occasionally speak otherwise but it never takes hold over his control. You will never see it present itself. He would sooner die.

If there is a soul in Twisted Wonderland who is brave enough to move in on his s/o, then he commends them. It takes courage to willingly offer yourself up as an example to the masses.

He's imagined it. Some pour student attempting to flirt awkwardly and in the most boorish way. Be it a single rose on your desk with a letter of love declaration, or a witty one-liner they pulled out from a book? How dull. The only emotions that the figment evicts are disgust and pity. The former on your behalf for being subjected to such mediocrity, and the latter on behalf of the student. It's bad enough for them to be rejected by you, but now they must be shamed by Vil. He is a merciful man, but allow one to make the mistake of chasing what's his and others will soon follow. As is the way of this competitive world.

He does not scorn any for being attracted to you. How could he? After all, it takes a marvel to woo someone like himself. It's natural for others to notice your sparkle.

They may look, but not touch. A privilege he gives that is not to be betrayed.

Like Kalim, he has no consistent reason to worry. He is so confident in his ability to smite anyone and anything that it is the biggest deterrent to all with ill intent.

On occasion there may be instances of social media backlash, or invasions of privacy. These irk him somewhat, but he knows that they will pass. So long as you are not distressed, then he does not mind them.

"Oh dear, just ignore them. In a week or two you'll be yesterday's news and they will find some other poor soul to torture....hmm. If it bothers you so much, then I will shield you as we walk. Come. The paparazzi loves this face anyways,"

Idia Shroud

8/10

I have said it before and I will say it again. Idia's largest tie to his dorm is his attitude. *cough* His temper. He is highly competitive despite his self-deprecating nature. His ego is unmatched. He is also snarky, and if pushed can talk someone down harsher than Crewel.

He also has too much time on his hands. Schoolwork is a chore that ticks maybe a few hours out of his day. He barely leaves his room, and even more rarely leaves his dorm. For the most part your relationship relies on you coming to him. That's okay. You knew this going in and have accepted it. He is also grateful for how accommodating you've been with his situation and in reassuring him. Yes sometimes he can be an asshole and get greedy. You always put him in his place though, and somehow your relationship dynamic is balanced just right. Not perfect, but not unhealthy.

Comfortable. Secure. Idia is happy. Do you have any idea how hard that is to achieve? He is well aware. He sits around during his free time with it nagging him. Just waiting for the day you grow tired or he lets you down. Some things can't be undone. He's hurt Ortho at times despite loving him more than anything. He'll hurt you and he's scared that when it inevitably happens that you'll leave him.

Idia protects you from himself. From his want to hog your attention and let his greed for your attention take over. When you first started dating, he half-wanted to get you your own tablet to attend school with. Move you into Ignihyde and lock you away with him. Where you would only see him, spend time with him, eat your meals with him, play games with him, save your kindness for only him, and be safe. No more getting into normie messes like magic duels and fighting beasts. No more working towards finding a portal that will take you away...

Almost. He knew that would hurt you. Somehow he matured enough to know that and restrain himself. What the heck did you do to him?

This doesn't mean you're entirely free though. He's still frightened. People scare him and it's bad enough that he has to worry over Ortho. Now you?

He watches you go around campus through the security cameras, and very rarely are you spotted without his tablet floating nearby. His attendance has been better in the classes you're in, and he hates that his teachers have noticed. His reputation has improved, since he's forced to at least say a greeting to the people you hang around once in a while.

Jealousy fuels the flame. He holds back as much as he can, but Idia has never loved like this before. His social awkwardness completely takes the backseat if someone he deems a threat is nearby. If someone flirts with you he has no filter in the moment, and likely beats himself up for it later on. This happens often due to your popularity...ugh. Damn you normies and your small talk.

He's bound to witness one of the many skirmishes you get thrown into. Crowley treats you like a walking campus security...and he is not happy. Not at all. I stated above that he very rarely leaves his room. More so his dorm. Even he has limits and won't sit back just to hear yelling through his earmuffs. The first time it happens? Well, he's bolting. After? Lets just say he had some special security measures installed in his tablet....

"Are you sure you don't want to come over? I got this new game for us to play and I bet I can beat you at it....ugh. Fine. Whatever. Just text me when you're walking home - No! I'm not watching you! Just shut up and do it please!"

Malleus Draconia

10/10

…must I explain?

Do you have any idea what happened when the name 'Tsunotaro,' fell from your lips? Do you?

No. It didn't just make him laugh his little cute fufufufu~ in his head. It flipped a switch.

He fell in love. Right then and there. He might not have known it yet but it's the truth. No one had ever dared to call him something so silly or look at him with pure joy. The smug twinkle in your eye as you declared it proudly.

He was yours, and you were his. You were to the only person in all of Twisted Wonderland that could ask him to jump, and in turn he would ask "how high".

In that moment, Malleus Draconia would kill for you. He would die for you. Loving you would soon become as easy as breathing. In a way, it already was. He simply underestimated at the time how deep his affection for you would root itself in his heart. He mistook it for soft adoration, but it was merely the calm before the storm. That instant was the catalyst to a lifetime of love, and also a lifetime of sorrow.

Being a dragon has nothing to do with it. Bonds with this man run deep. Family is the most important thing, and you are his love. There is no puppy love dating. None of that shit. Only courting because you WILL be his betrothed and you WILL become his spouse. This man is in love and he will accept no other. That is simply his personality. His emotions are pure and heavy. Raw. Fragile. Honest.

He will keep you safe. He has seen you fearful. Seen your strength as you transverse new world. At first it intrigued him as he watched from the sidelines, but now he wishes to travel back and steal you away. Take you to safety and prevent all those horrible events from happening, even though they were necessary for your friends to grow. Nothing is worth you being hurt. He would sooner let the school burn than see another scar on your body or mind.

The day he came to terms with his affections (which did not take long) he swore, never again. Even prior to courting you, never. Your friendship was irreplaceable. The only thing allowed to take you from him would be your own mortality....and even that would soon become a stretch, he's working on it.

View Malleus like a warm blanket. Comforting, not suffocating. A calming presence that wraps around you and fills your body with warmth on the coldest days. You would never dream to leave him. He ensures it. He is not a perfect man, but he is one that will love you like no other on the planet. Many vow that their love is eternal on their wedding day. This is not always upheld.

Malleus is a man of his word. You will see it deep in his emerald eyes the moment he declares his love. Nothing will ever bring you harm. No one will ever offer what he can provide. Not a being in existence will be able to match the affection this man holds. His love truly is eternal.

"You are my deepest treasure. Do you realize what this means?...Haha. No, I will not force you to join me in gargoyle studies. Not unless you wish it...It means that I am yours, and in turn you are now mine. No one will dare harm you unless they wish to become my enemy,"

Bonus: PLATONIC! Bestie Grimm

10x10^10

Little man, big heart.

Heart says to protect the henchman

So protect the henchman he shall do

No googoo eyes are allowed. He will attack ferociously

He will challenge all threats, and then drag you to run away if someone actually tries to fight him

Little man leaves you his spare tuna if you look sad. Be grateful!

He just wants you to like it here, okay? Otherwise you'll drop out and he'll lose his enrollment! Don't think too much on it

Will defend your honor to the very end. Only the great Grimm can make fun of his henchman! All others will feel the power of his flames

....please patch him up if he returns home injured. Deuce tried but the bandages are never tied right

"What happened? Well wouldn't you like to know! Hmph. Nothing more than a few lower lackeys trying to tussle with the Great Grimm...Did I win? Of course I won! What kind of talk is that....sheesh. Last time I defend your name. Hmph. Nothing! I said nothing!"

[cybershock24601]

My most unhinged and for the drama post canon Rookanis scenario is where Rook accidentally gets pregnant post the first night she and Luccanis spend together because they're both virgins, Rook's not on any contraceptive, and the final battle is happening pretty much right after so remembering to take the fantasy morning after pill kinda gets lost in the shuffle and it basically results in Lucanis speedrunning ditching the Crows to become the Ultimate Househusband.

The way I typically imagine post canon Rookanis going down is Rook moving in with Lucanis and her relationship with Caterina slowly worsening over months and years because while Caterina probably starts pretty neutral on Rook, she just does not vibe with Rook's personality and considering she's a paranoid old woman, does not like the influence this outsider has on her grandson or the sort of support Rook has unintentionally built up amongst the Crows during the whole, let's kill these evil elven gods fiasco. Sure Caterina named Lucanis First Talon but its pretty clear a lot of the power is supposed to remain in her guiding hand and Rook is an unknown and chaotic variable fucking with her plans.

Rook on the other hand goes in ready to do her best to build a good relationship with Caterina for Lucanis' sake but starts souring on Caterina the more she learns about Lucanis and Illario's childhoods and is like, no wonder shit went so sideways, which combined with Caterina's increasingly passive aggressive behavior, Rook is only being civil because she is not willing to cause more problems in Lucanis' already fucked up family but its not like Rook is taking Caterina's jabs without getting in a few of her own.

On top of that, despite Caterina's personal dislike of Rook, she's also pushing for Lucanis and Rook to marry and start pumping out great grandbabies to repopulate House Dellamorte. While Rook is more then willing to marry Lucanis, the more Rook learns about how Caterina raised Lucanis and Illario and just about the Crows in general, she starts getting a lot of reservations about raising any child of hers in such a fucked up environment. Meanwhile Lucanis is aggressively Not Thinking About It because while he can justify the treatment he received growing up, thinking about raising his children the way he was would probably break his brain a little because its a little hard to ignore how fucked up and traumatic your own childhood is when you have to confront how much that would fuck up and traumatize someone else.

So instead of these issues growing worse and worse over the years until they completely bubble over, Rook and Lucanis have to pretty immediately confront the realities of raising a family in the Crows and by the time the kid is 6 months old Rook has enough of a grasp of what this kids future will look like in the Crows and Lucanis has had to confront continuing the cycle of abuse he was born into and they just mutually come to the decision that they need to GTFO now.

Also maybe throw in a rival Talon trying to smother this future First Talon before they have chance to grow for a little extra drama and to force Lucanis to confront the same choice Caterina did on whether the seat of First Talon is worth sacrificing his family and the answer is obviously a resounding No.

And this is all without accounting for Spite and how he would react to Rook being pregnant because I'm sure that's probably an insane concept for a spirit or how Spite would deal with this new tiny person that's half-Lucanis and half-Rook. Not to mention whatever inevitable over dramatic reaction Illario has to becoming an uncle while trying to patch up his relationship with Lucanis after the whole 'attempting to have Lucanis killed to take the position of First Talon' thing. Lots of room for comedy here to balance out how fucked up the rest of this story is.

Anyways all this ends with Lucanis and Rook traveling around for a few years to keep the Crows off their tail because I doubt Lucanis would be able to easily leave without some reprisal before they eventually quietly settle down in the Necropolis. Which serves as great security because I like the idea of magical semi sentient locations and I don't think the Necropolis would let any Crow assassins reach its Crypt Baby or Crypt Grandbaby

[guardianofnightmares]

Sunrise

Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.

To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.

A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.

----------

Alright, fellas, next entry to the @blitzbee-week event is finally here)). The prompt of the second day was "Sunrise" and I decided to go more figuratively with it rather then depicting a literal "appearance of the sky" at a particular part of a day. As you can guess by a provided description, Bee basically becomes a "leading star" for a brooding Blitzwing, who, as it seems, is not that thrilled by discovery of his partner.

Just as a previous entry to a mentioned event, this picture is dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". Here's a [link] for the series "folder" which also includes an existing teaser (future prologue) for a story if anyone wants to give it a try. Again, can not thank you enough for all the support you've shown for it so far, I will try my best to come up with updates soon enough.

As it usually goes with such works of mine, I will provide the full snippet of one of chapters, which a depicted scene is taken from, under a cut line for anyone wishing to read more about the scene. Hope you'll enjoy it)

To the surprise of many comrades he’d worked with, the Triplechanger proved to be the most patient mech on a team when it came to long lasting missions. Usually he didn’t find it difficult to lay low and wait for orders to come, even if it meant to stay idle for several solar cycles. It was a useful trait of character which Decepticon rightfully prided himself of. 

Yet, even a seemingly boundless patience had its limits. 

“Can you see anything of use out there?” Blitzwing finally asked his unfortunate “partner in crime”.

A brightly colored mech slipped on the spot upon hearing Con’s voice but managed to regain his balance. 

“Not yet, Blitzwing, give me a klik!” A minibot shouted over his shoulder, holding on the steel bar for dear life. “Climbing is not as easy as I’m surely making it look in your optics.”

If Bumblebee planed to cheer up a Warframe with such a comment, he failed miserably, for it only seemed to sour up an already bad mood of a tall mech. 

To a Decepticon, it felt like forever since the minibot began his ascend up a steep scarp of a crumbled wall. One would think that, thanks to his light frame, he’d manage to reach the top level in no time. But even this uneven terrain, made of torn sheets of metal and broken cables, proved to be a challenge to an agile Autobot. 

The damned energy chain, which linked limbs of both mechs to each other, clearly was the greatest obstacle for Bumblebee, barely giving him a chance to move as far away from a somber mech as possible. Not to mention that a Decepticon was forced to stand on one pede in order to accommodate his companion’s slow conquest of new heights. 

Admittedly, a Triplechanger considered an option of tearing the bug’s pede he’s bound to off. But that type of cuffs always latched onto anything in their vicinity (while being activated). Meaning, the chances of getting tied to a nearby wall, as a result of said actions, reached more than 90%. 

Tearing his own pede off was not part of a Warframe’s plans. 

“If you haven’t noticed it yet, Bumblebee Prime, we don’t have plenty of time left to hide in these tunnels,” A “former” convict grumbled in response while surveying his surroundings for an up-tenth time. He didn’t notice how a Bot winced at the mention of his new title.

Minibot knew he deserved that snide remark. But it did not make him feel better about his recent promotion to an Elite Guard. Or about a decision to become one for that matter. The decision which led to a situation where an Autobot and a Decepticon got lost under an Iacon city. 

They had to hide in maintenance tunnels from the times prior to a Great War. Tunnels built by Decepticons for Autobots’ use, and left by them to slowly rot in an utter disrepair after the said War was officially ended. Sealed off since the banishment of Warframes from Cybertron, eventually the structure turned into an urban myth not many of currently living mechs remember or even know about.

An old complex Blitzwing and Bumblbee were currently navigating in was once part of the major supportive structure. Meant to protect veins and tubes once full of energon, that section was made of sturdy materials which stoically passed the test of time. 

The Decepticon would’ve lied if he’d said he’s not pleasantly surprised by that discovery. 

But it did not bright up his mood by much - they still needed to find a way to the surface level of a planet. 

“Foolish of me to expect a scout with no field experience to do a Warframe’s job,” the mech muttered under his breath, words bitter on his glossa. “Perhaps I should have been the one to search for an exit after all”.

Blitzwing had no intent for the last sentence to be heard by his peer, but an aforementioned scout, apparently, had nicely tuned audials. 

Figures. 

“And to risk exposing your Decepticon signature to raging authorities? No, thanks!” Bumblebee chirped after successfully reaching for a rod sticking out of a long abandoned structure. “It was already enough of me putting everything at risk by making stupid decisions - I don’t want to see you following my lead.”

Somehow the fact that a minibot admitted his mistakes helped to somewhat cool Blitzwing down. He said nothing in return but did glance at him once prior returning to surveying desolated surroundings. 

Bumbler’s changed since the promotion to the ranks of an Elite Guard. He seemed to act more mature, even if he’s still naive about most things happening around him. For strangers it’d be an unexpected change of character for such an optimistic and energetic Bot as Bumblebee. But Blitzwing was no random outsider, whether he liked to be on closer terms with a current companion of his or not. 

Death of a teammate has effected the minibot on a much deeper level then he’d ever admit to anybody, even to himself. Yet, despite how horrible it might’ve sounded, the Decepticon thought that that was an important lesson every soldier had to live through. And as a mech, who’s witnessed deaths of many of his comrades throughout the Great War, he had to agree that Bumbler was holding up pretty well for someone so inexperienced in mentioned matters. 

Even Blitzwing, who did not know Prowl as well as a yellow Bot did, felt the loss of a mech effecting him as well to a certain degree. No matter how secluded and cold the cyber-ninja seemed to be, he always had a special aura around him, the one that made people feel at ease in his presence. Though how he could so freely speak to a Con about importance of life and probability of peace among Cybertronians remained a mystery to him to that solar cycle.  

What was that thing black and golden Autobot’s talking about during the last conversation of theirs? 

“To have Faith not in Primus, not in The Allspark, but in each other”?

What exactly made him see it being possible back then and, especially, at a current stage of the reignited conflict between factions? Triplechanger had no answer to that question either. He didn’t view how the world should work the same way Prowl did. Could not fully comprehend the intricacies of a philosophy of an Autobot, but, at least, did not lack the courage to make it very clear during a mentioned discussion of theirs.

Blitzwing didn’t have Faith in anyone anymore, and he surely wouldn't in a foreseen future. 

For who could remain being supportive of their unhelpful, unwanted partn-… Autobot, while being lost in Allspark forsaken place with no means of escape?

…

“… -es! I see the gap in a wall!.. Blitzwing, I actually see it!”

The joyful voice tore Triplechanger from a deep melancholy state he slipped into while looking down a dark tunnel to his left. He raised his ruby optics, their faint glow barely lighting sharp features of his blue faceplates.

“Right where you’ve predicted it to be,” The Autobot added after turning around in order to face his unfortunate companion, unintentionally giving him quite a peculiar view of his small form.

Faint beam of artificial light from a surface danced off yellow armor of an Autobot, giving it a color of a newborn star. Bumblebee graced the Decepticon with a broad smile, its warmth making the hostile gloom around his facial features to dissipate.

To Blitzwing a minibot reminded a stray ray of hope which arrived to safe lost souls from a long dead and forgotten world.

A true rising sun in the realm of darkness.

...

Blitzwing huffed in mild annoyance at himself and his artistic side of a processor - it was not the right moment for poetic comparisons. Hope and Faith had no place in a situation he was stuck in, only cold calculations. He and Bumbler had to get out of that place, no matter the cost. And the sooner they’d get rid of an energy chain, the better.

[childrenofcain-if]

D fighting that Cornell player for us 👁️🫦👁️ I need them to fight for us more, I need their knucles bloody and torn so I can kiss them better 💋

A scenario for this, dear Author?

you liked walking with D like this. their strides, usually slow and lazy, matched yours naturally, and their occasional teasing comments—softened by a warm laugh—made the cold bite of the evening feel less obvious. the faint scent of whiskey clung to them and they seemed to have a spring in their step.

“you good?” they asked, glancing at you.

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “that was pretty fun.”

they grinned, bumping their shoulder against yours. “see? i told you it’d be better than staying in.”

the black dog had been crowded, the drinks a little too watered down, but it didn’t matter. it wasn’t about the drinks. it was about the way D’s shoulder brushed against yours at the bar, how they’d leaned in close to hear you better over the music. it was the way their hand lingered either on your arms and back as you weaved through the throng of students.

the night was nearly perfect, which made what happened next feel like the universe had overcorrected.

it was a group of students—four of them, maybe a little older than you, their laughter laced with too much liquor and too little sense. they were from yale, too. you recognized a couple of faces in the dim light but didn’t know their names.

D ignored them, at least at first.

“aw, look at them,” one of them jeered, his voice dripping with something sour. “did someone finally put a leash on you, diaconu?”

you felt the tension coil in D immediately. their shoulders tightened, their hands clenched into fists. you grabbed their arm instinctively, trying to keep them moving.

“just ignore them,” you hissed warningly. “they’re drunk idiots.”

D didn’t respond, but they kept walking. for a moment, you thought that was the end of it.

but the next comment shattered that fragile hope.

“what’s the deal with you two, anyway?” another one of them slurred. “you screwing, or are they just too much of a loser to get anyone else?”

D stopped so abruptly you almost collided with them.

“D,” you said sharply, your voice low and urgent, “don’t. they’re not worth it.”

but they weren’t listening.

D spun on their heel, their eyes blazing as they closed the distance between them and the group. “what the fuck did you just say, shithead?”

the guy laughed, hiccupping a little as his friends egged him on. “i said—”

the punch landed squarely on his jaw before he could finish, the sickening crack reverberating in the stillness of the evening air like a goddamn firework.

the guy staggered back, clutching his jaw, his eyes wide with the slow shock of pain. it might’ve ended there, but his friends surged forward like a wave, all elbows and fury, and suddenly it wasn’t a single punch—it was a maelstrom of fists.

D didn’t hesitate. their movements were quick, precise, as if some dormant, feral instinct had taken over. they ducked a wild swing from the second guy, pivoting with a speed that left the drunk assailant off-balance. D’s fist collided with his ribs, and you could almost hear the breath being forced out of his lungs, a guttural wheeze that cut through the din.

but there were too many of them. four was too many, even for D, and you could see the tide turning. the third guy lunged, his arm catching D around the middle, dragging them lopsidedly. for a moment, D faltered, their body twisting under the weight of the sudden tackle, and then another pair of fists swung toward their face.

“no!” you shouted, the word ripped from your throat, but it didn’t do anything. it was swallowed by the scuffle, lost in the heavy breaths and the dull thud of fists meeting flesh.

you ran forward, panic hammering in your chest, and grabbed at the closest arm you could reach, desperate to pull them off D. but the guy was drunker than you, angrier than you, and he twisted with a surprising speed. his elbow shot out, and you barely registered the movement before it connected with your cheek.

pain exploded across your face—a sharp, electric jolt that made you fall back, clutching your cheek as the world tilted. you felt your eyes water while your vision started to swim, not so much from crying as it was from the sheer force of the blow.

something seemed to completely snap inside D when they saw you fall.

their face, already bruised and bloodied, twisted into something unrecognizable—pure, incandescent rage. it wasn’t the playful, teasing D you knew; it was something vengeful, a darker version of them you’d never seen before.

“i’ll fucking kill you all!” they roared, their voice a guttural snarl that echoed off the buildings.

they threw themself at the guy who’d hit you, their fists flying in a blur of movement. one punch landed squarely on his nose, and you saw blood spray, staining his white t-shirt red. the guy staggered, his hands flying to his face, but D didn’t stop.

the others tried to intervene, but D moved like a storm, wild and relentless. they ducked under a clumsy swing, landing a blow to the side of one guy’s head that sent him reeling. another lunged at them from behind, but D twisted sharply, their elbow connecting with their collarbone with enough force to make it crack.

blood and spit flew, the wet sounds of impact making you wince. one of the guys screamed, but it was cut short as D’s fist connected with his throat, and another’s head snapped back as they landed a brutal uppercut. a few teeth now glinted on the pavement, stark and white against the dark.

it wasn’t clean or choreographed; it was a tangle of bodies and fists and snarled curses. blood splattered onto the pavement, dark and slick, and you weren’t sure how much of it was D’s.

their knuckles were raw and split, but they didn’t seem to notice. or maybe they didn’t care. every time one of the guys landed a blow—a glancing punch to D’s side, a scrape across their cheek—they retaliated tenfold. their movements were driven by emotions beyond anger now, primal protectiveness bleeding over.

the fight seemed to last forever and no time at all. the guys were stumbling now, their earlier bravado drained, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated. one of them was already retreating, limping down the street with a hand pressed to his side.

and then the others followed, their faces pale and bruised, casting nervous glances over their shoulders as they fled. the last one hesitated, his face twisted in defiance, but a single step forward from D sent him scrambling after his friends.

silence fell, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the sound of D’s labored breathing. they were standing in the middle of the street, their chest heaving, blood dripping from their split lip onto the pavement.

you couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. all you could do was stare at them, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack your ribs.

they turned to you then, and the fury in their eyes softened, replaced by something you couldn’t quite name. concern. fear. relief.

“are you okay?” they asked, their voice rough and trembling.

you nodded, though your cheek throbbed and your heart was still racing. “i’m fine. but you—”

and all you could think, absurdly, was that they looked way worse than you.

“god, D,” you muttered, grabbing their arm. “we need to get you cleaned up.”

they tried to wave you off with a lopsided grin. “i’ll be alright, they’ll heal.”

“yeah no, you’re not letting the wounds stay like that on my watch,” you snapped, dragging them toward the nearest pharmacy.

***

D’s POV

D’s knuckles burned like hellfire, every movement of their fingers sending sharp needles of pain up their arm, but they didn’t care. it was all worth it.

they memory of that guy’s elbow slamming into your cheek replayed in their head like a film reel, grainy and ugly, until the anger swelled up again, hot and alive under their skin. they had never been the type to hold back—not when it came to you, and not when it came to anyone stupid enough to think they could hurt you.

but now, sitting on this damn bench outside a pharmacy, D was starting to regret not dodging more. their entire face felt like it had been dragged through gravel, and their lip was cracked so badly that blood kept pooling in the corner of their mouth no matter how many times they wiped it away.

you were fussing over them like a mother hen with an edge of impatience, snapping at them when they flinched or tried to shrug you off. it should have annoyed them—normally it would have—but it didn’t. it didn’t because it was you.

“stop squirming,” you said sharply, pressing a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol against the raw mess of their knuckles. the sting was immediate, searing, and D hissed through their teeth.

“jesus, you trying to finish me off?” they muttered, leaning back against the bench.

“stop being such a baby,” you shot back, not even looking up. “you can take a hundred punches, but alcohol’s too much for you?”

D pouted. “i told you it’ll heal fine on its own.”

that earned them a glare, one that should have been threatening but was softened by the way your brow furrowed in concentration. D didn’t say anything else, just watched you as you worked—watched the way your hands moved with gentleness, as well as a slight tremble of worry for them.

they liked your hands very much, they’d decided. fine-boned and nimble, like a pianist of some sort. they belonged upon ivory keys, not atop their calloused hands and knuckles.

“stay still,” you muttered, and D obeyed, for once. it wasn’t the alcohol or the bruises that had them quiet, though. it was you. it was the way you leaned in, so close that they could see the faintest flicker of concern in your eyes, even as you grumbled about scars and consequences.

“this’ll definitely leave a mark,” you said, mostly to yourself, as you began wrapping their knuckles in bandages.

“good,” D said, the word slipping out before they could think about it. you looked up, startled, and they added, “makes me look tougher, y’know?”

you rolled your eyes so hard they thought they might get stuck like that in the back of your head. “or stupider.”

“i’ll call them my battle scars,” they said smugly, even as you tugged the bandage tighter than necessary.

you huffed but didn’t reply, just kept working, your movements brisk but careful. and then you did something that completely shattered D’s composure: you kissed their knuckles.

it was barely a touch, just the softest brush of your lips against the bandages, but it felt like a seismic event. D froze, their entire body going still as their brain scrambled to make sense of what had just happened.

“what the hell was that for?” they asked, their voice quieter than they meant it to be.

you didn’t look at them. your cheeks felt hot, and you mumbled something about “speedy recovery” before returning to their other hand. D just stared at you, their heart doing something inconvenient and unexplainable in their chest.

the world felt small suddenly. just the two of you on this bench, the distant hum of cars, the faint glow of the pharmacy sign overhead. it was stupid. it was nothing.

no, it was everything.

when you finished wrapping their hands, you moved on to their face, dabbing at the split in their lip with a tenderness that made D feel like they might unravel. you didn’t say anything, and neither did they, but the silence between you wasn’t empty.

it was full of everything they couldn’t bring themself to say.

you frowned as you inspected the bruise forming on their cheek, your fingers hovering for a moment before pulling back. D watched you, their gaze tracing the lines of your face, the pair of your full lips, the starry depth of your eyes, the slight furrow in your brow.

“you’re quiet,” you said finally, breaking the spell.

D shrugged, and then winced because that hurt too. “thinking.”

“about what?”

“you.”

the word hung in the air, heavier than it had any right to be. you looked up, surprised, and D felt like they were standing on the edge of something, toes hanging over the precipice.

you opened your mouth to say something, but D beat you to it. they reached out, their hand brushing against the small bruise on your cheek. their fingers were clumsy and bandaged, but the touch was featherlight, barely there.

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to pull away, but D didn’t let you.

“it’s not nothing,” they said, their voice low and steady.

they grabbed a bandaid from the kit you’d brought, peeling it open with their teeth before gently pressing it against your cheek. you gave them a look that was half amusement, half exasperation, but you didn’t argue.

“that was unnecessary,” you mumbled.

D leaned in, their lips brushing against the bandaid. it was soft and quick, but enough to stop you mid-sentence.

when they pulled away, they had a small smile playing on their lips as they echoed your previous words. “for your speedy recovery, dragă.”

[wonupatootie]

SVT Social Media AU Fic Recsᡣ𐭩 Part III

쉬는 날인데 넌 뭐해 생각 있음 나와 놀래~

Main Recs Masterlist

➣Part I // Part II // Part III

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

Choi Seungcheol

“The Way Back” by @suhnshinehaos

Gn!reader || rapper x actor, angst, fluff, some humour || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･fans reminisce on your relationship with seungcheol

Kwon Soonyoung

“Let Me Hear You Say” by @cherrycheolliesc

Fem!reader || YouTuber au, friends to enemies to lovers, comedy, angst, fluff || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･after not seeing each other for years, Yn is ecstatic when she finds out all of her friends will finally be in the same place at one time. but unfortunately an unwanted situation turns a 12 year friendship into hateful relationship between yn and soonyoung. as things grow sour between them, their group gets tired of it and tries to fix things.

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“The Roomie” by @zo-byeol

Fem!reader || roommates au, fluff || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･kwon soonyoung and his friends need a roommate. (y/n) just got evicted. It sounds simple enough, but really, is anything ever simple?

Jeon Wonwoo

“To My Youth” by @viastro

Fem!reader || love alarm inspired au, slice of life, fluff, humour, angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･in a world where everyone finds out who loves them within a 10 meter radius through the app love alarm, confessing your feelings without the use of the app is no longer considered normal. however, you refuse to download it in hopes that you’ll be able to fall in love without being dependent on love alarm.

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“Back To You” by @seventeensmaus

Fem!reader || brother's best friend, fluff, humour, angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･y/n and mingyu are twins. they are pretty much inseparable along with their childhood friend seungcheol. the three live together in an apartment. y/n has never met mingyu’s friends. that is until one day she finally does and sees someone from her past.

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“Clueless” by @hanniedream

Coworker au, fluff || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Wonwoo and you are were both oblivious idiots.

Lee Seokmin

“Sunshine and Sunflowers” by @shuastruck

Fem!reader || college au, sort of childhood friends to lovers, fluff, humour, angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when you entered college, the last thing you expected was to see your childhood friend lee seokmin in a sea of unknown faces. but just as you had expected, he didn't even remember you in the slightest. you didn't blame him; he had moved away in first grade and how many people remembered their best friend from kindergarten? but that didn't stop you from falling for his cute smile and sweet personality, so now you were stuck in love with a boy who barely knew your existence.

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“We Have Chemistry” by @seungcy

Fem!reader || college au, slice of life, fluff || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Being a biology major was difficult enough along with juggling an internship at a hospital. So how about adding some cute guys to your internship to spice it up a bit? Can you balance it out?

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“What Is Love?” by @cupidhaos

High school au, cupid au, past life au, fantasy, fluff, angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seokmin never expected to fall in love with a human - especially one that was supposed to be with somebody else

Chwe Hansol

“Two Minus One” by @twogyuu

Fem!reader || uni/recent college grads au, strangers to lovers, fluff, crack || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･What’s a better way to find love in the modern day than through dating apps? Eight months after his breakup with his long-time girlfriend, Vernon is finally ready for the dating scene once more - or so he thought. Finding the new game of love more challenging than he remembered, he reaches out to you, Chan’s best friend and legendary wing woman, for help.

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“Lie Again” by @escapewriter

Fem!reader || idol au, soulmate au, fluff, humour, slight angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･a world in which various types of the soulmate system apply, you just so happen to have one that is completely stupid; being able to hear what your soulmate thinks of. however, when your soulmate hums a certain tune, you cant seem to get it out of your head.

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“花樣年華 : HYYH : Golden Years” by @sw1mmingfoolz

Fem!reader || college au, eventual roommates, angst, fluff, slowburn || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when vernon and y/n realise their partners are cheating with each other, they strike up an unlikely friendship trying to figure out how it all began.

Unspecified Endgame

“Feverish Lips” by @sunlightwoo

College au, mafia au, fluff, angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you’d think that because it’s the first semester of the year, it’d be like the beginning of a roller coaster when its slowly becoming climatic and stressful. however, once you’re at the top of the point you have two choices: scream your lungs or quickly hang onto your life support. sadly in your case, you can either suck it up and get through it, or get involved in its loops in tangles with trouble that is bound to be met within every corner that you turn to.

⤷“Louder Than Bombs” (Part 2 of feverish lips)

College au, mafia au, fluff, angst || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the past semester of your senior year was hectic after the winter ball, its events making it harder for you to get back into your old routine. a rollercoaster that you finally managed to get off of for a blink of an eye, when suddenly you’re strapped on once more. you think to yourself that maybe you’ll make it to graduation in May; maybe alive. 

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“Here Comes The Sun” by @seokgyuu

Fem!reader || college au, slice of life, angst, comedy, fluff || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･what's supposed to be just another year of fun and games at one of south korea's top universities turns into a rollercoaster of emotions for you. stuck between best friends and former crushes, you try to find love, friends and most importantly yourself.

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“A Poem A Day” by @wooahaeproductions

Gn!reader || modern day cyrano!, fluff, romance, angst, comedy || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･When Mingyu literally falls head over heels for someone, he has no idea what to do. What happens when he gets help (and a little meddling) from his friends? it definitely won’t be boring, that’s for sure.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; "Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!" (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Um,” he says. “I don’t know that one, I think. What was it on?” 

Lynn shrugs. Billy thinks–well, at least Lynn told him about something he liked, so he can at least try to find it, he figures. 

It takes him a slightly embarrassing amount of time to figure out Lynn is talking about literally the “no signal” screen with all the static, but in his defense he totally forgot that was even a thing and also, like, that is definitely not a show or anything. Though also Lynn didn’t actually call it a show, and either way Lynn wouldn’t know it wasn’t a show, probably, so . . . yeah, whoops. 

Billy definitely should’ve figured that one out a couple minutes sooner, but at least he figured it out. He doesn’t get why Lynn wants to watch static, but since most dads have to sit through, like, Barney and Paw Patrol, he figures he’s getting off lucky. He hasn’t watched TV in a while, no, but he definitely remembers how much Paw Patrol sucked. 

Ugh.

Lynn definitely likes the static either way, so it doesn’t really matter as long as he’s happy, Billy figures. Or, um–well, maybe not happy, really, ��cuz he’s not sure he’s actually seen Lynn all that happy yet, but at least, like, content? Or like . . . mostly content? 

. . . semi-content? 

Billy really, really hopes Lynn at least isn’t unhappy to have gotten stuck with him. Which–like, if he does change his mind about staying, obviously they can figure something else out for him, but Billy just . . . 

He really wants this to work out, and he really wants to take good care of Lynn, and just–like–

He really wants this to work out. He’d just–he’d feel really bad, if he couldn’t take care of Lynn right. That’s all. 

Well–no. It’s a lot more things than just that. 

The three of them eat in front of, uh, “No Signal”, and it tastes–really good, actually. Like–really good. It’s maybe that it’s been a little while since anybody cooked for him, at least kinda, but Billy feels . . . he feels sort of weird about how good it all tastes, and kind of keeps his eyes on his food for most of it. The static isn’t really something he wants to watch anyway, and he doesn’t wanna make Lynn feel like he’s getting stared at or anything. 

It’s really, really good, though. 

“This is so good, Lynn!” he says enthusiastically, beaming over at him, and Lynn–stiffens, briefly, and then stares blankly at him. Billy resists the urge to wince. Okay, uh . . . yeah. Maybe that was a little too much, or too loud or something. “Um–sorry, just–” 

“It’s fine,” Lynn says stiffly, then tenses a little and looks down at his plate. Billy kinda hates that his own kid thinks interrupting him is gonna get him in, like, trouble, but he knows that’s just because Cadmus sucks. So it’s like–it’s something Lynn’s gonna need a minute to learn, probably, but yeah. Just one more thing, he figures. 

“I really like it,” he says, scooping up another bite of the salmon and pretending to be oblivious to Lynn’s reaction to that. He thinks sometimes that’s just better to do with simple stuff, instead of making somebody feel like everybody thinks they’re messing up all the time. “I kinda thought the, um–glaze? I thought the stuff in the glaze sounded kinda weird to put together, honestly, but it’s really good.” 

“. . . it’s balanced,” Lynn says, not lifting his eyes off his plate. His shoulders relax a little bit, though, so Billy thinks he probably did the right thing. Or at least a right thing, since he guesses there’s probably more than one “right” thing to–anyway. Not really the point. 

“‘Balanced’?” he asks curiously. “Like it’s healthier, you mean? Like a balanced diet thing?” 

“Um . . . no,” Lynn says. “It’s–brown sugar is sweet. Mustard’s–sour. Tangy. So it’s not too much of one or the other.” 

“Oh!” Billy realizes in delight. “That’s so smart, Lynn! I wouldn’t’ve even thought about that.” 

“. . .you don’t need to eat,” Lynn says, glancing guardedly at him. Billy shrugs. 

“Yeah, but still,” he says. “I do, like–like to, when I can.” 

“. . . you like to eat?” Lynn asks hesitantly. Billy doesn’t let himself get weird and complicated or think too much about it and just nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. “And this tastes awesome. We should make a copy of the recipe to make again, if you and Tawky like it too.” 

Lynn stares blankly at him while Tawky nods approvingly. 

“You care if I like it,” Lynn says, less like a question and more like a weird, confusing little realization. Billy . . . well. He knows how that feels, so just smiles encouragingly at him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, you need more food than us anyway, so actually it’s more important that you like it. Also, um, you’re my kid, so I want you to like it more than I wanna like it myself anyway.” 

“. . . why,” Lynn says, which is a question, but doesn’t really sound all that different. They should maybe do a little talking practice when he’s feeling up to it, Billy notes to himself. Like, for intonation and stuff. 

“You’re my kid,” he repeats reasonably. “Plus I already know what foods I like, and you still gotta figure out your favorites and stuff.” 

“‘Favorites’,” Lynn repeats, and then, slower–“Because I’m your kid?”

“Yeah,” Billy agrees. Lynn does not look any less blank, which–right, Lynn really doesn’t know how this stuff works. Or–how it’s supposed to, anyway. “Um, because I’m taking care of you, yeah? Like–people who are taking care of you are supposed to care what you like and what your favorites are and all.” 

Lynn looks blankly at him for another moment, then slants his eyes towards the TV. 

“Is that why you put on No Signal?” he asks.

[godhandler]

Different JJK characters understand ‘love’ differently. 

For Gojo Satoru, love must be terrible, like the memory of choking on food as a kid, or getting trapped by seaweed when you went swimming. Something that breaks through his supernatural divinity and crushes him straight onto the ground. People would not have hesitated using love or loved ones to hurt him all his life. There’s a reason he’s kept himself single, childless, relatively unattached (except for the whole thing with Geto, and you know how that went). Love makes him mortal. Makes him vulnerable. Weak. Every cell of his body resists it and yet he can’t stop craving for it. 

As Geto pointed out, you cannot separate Gojo Satoru (the human) from The Strongest (the divine). Can you genuinely love divinity? Will divinity even love you back? But if you say that you love the human Gojo Satoru, you’re still ignoring or rejecting the divine half of him, so you’re not actually loving him ‘as he is’. If you love someone you can’t fillet him open like a fish and pick and choose whichever parts you love. You have to love him whole. 

Can anyone even have that much love to cover his infinite vastness? Can Gojo be loved wholly? 

On some level, Gojo must himself believe that he is incapable of being truly loved or loving. Infinity on all the time. Just not made for it, he thinks. If simply being understood is an impossible task for him, how could he ask to be loved?

Suppressed appetite, his stomach should ache hungry. Starving. To be loved and cherished and cared for, the way he sees other people are. Sour grapes. Love is terrible. 

He can make do just fine without love, and he does. But goddamn if it doesn’t have him shaking and puking on the floor. 

Unlike him, Geto Suguru is constantly surrounded by love. Not just any love however, Geto begets ‘overwhelming, blinding love’. Loving Geto brings tragedy.

He was loved in his time as a jujutsu sorcerer, and those same people still chose to look the other way and loved him even after the horrific crimes he committed. Gojo, Nanami, Shoko, even Yaga– they loved him and their love kept him alive for an extra decade after his defection. People died because he was loved.  

Until his death he was loved by Gojo and Shoko, so much that they could not part with his corpse. Gojo was sealed, Nanami died, hundreds killed, all because he was loved. 

All his cult followers. The ragtag family he’d collected loved him and risked their lives to help his friends even when he was no longer alive. His daughters (who he taught to kill) died trying to revive him. Because he was loved. 

And even in the afterlife, he went back to a carefree time when he was loved. 

Adored, loved, cherished– could Geto even understand what it is like to not be any of those? How much of the same love does Geto give back? Not necessarily that he was loved more than he gave love back. It’s just that, other than Gojo, he’s always on the heavier end of the scale, the one with more power in the love-balance. Because when it came to it, he chose himself (and his perceived duty to the world) over love. And he continued to do that till the end, and he was still so loved.

As if he’s the hero of the tale, he’s the one with the spotlight on, he was made to be loved. It must feel so natural to fall in love with Geto, so natural for him to receive it. Like poisoned milk when you’re thirsty, it soothes you, fills your heart before taking away a chunk of it. His love is tainted. 

Noritoshi Kamo loves to the point of self-harm. He’s hollow inside– all his motivations to live on are wholly external, to bring his mother into the clan, to honour his position as a clan elder, to protect Maki in the fight against Naoya, to protect his family from the Shinjuku incident. He takes these things as his duties/responsibilities and does them to the best of his ability. 

He takes love to be a duty/responsibility and acts as is proper. He’s the traditional man of the house, the provider and the caretaker for his loved ones. You wouldn’t even realise how easily you’ve relaxed to being taken care of, how you glance at him for his approval before you buy something, how subtly dominant, in a non-sexual way, is his presence. 

Duties/responsibilities are tiring heavy pressures on him to perform, so he performs all through love. He won't complain because he doesn’t expect anything else. He takes what he gets and knows to stay content about it. He acts so perfect that even he doesn’t know where the act ends and he begins. It’s not that he doesn’t want to openly be himself, he just has no idea what that even looks like. 

Perhaps someday he’ll receive a love that will let him relax, be taken care of, be vulnerable, and not perform anymore. I sure hope he does. 

But it’s worrying that the second he has no further duty/responsibility, (eg. when they’re losing to Naoya), he doesn’t hesitate to commit suicide for the sake of others. As if he himself has no reason to keep on living. If he depends that much on his duties/responsibilities to be his reason to live, how much of that intensity would be projected into his love? How very heavy must be the burden of his love?

He has high standards for himself, his love too. It’s up to you if you can match it. 

Something about it would rub you the wrong way. And yet you’ll never leave because you know that despite everything, his love runs deep and solid as iron underground. Perfect on the surface, turbulent underneath but so very true at its core. 

[demonpiratehuntress]

anxious

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - you're very anxious and prone to panic attacks, and your boyfriend seems to forget that after a bad mission.

warnings - a little bit of angst, mean and kind of toxic Ace, hurt/comfort, panic attack triggers (or at least they are for my anxiety, idk about you guys but a warning anyway), implied but not confirmed cheating (Ace)

You were just trying to be thoughtful.

You hadn't known his mission had gone so sour.

It was a harmless surprise, and you hadn't known that he felt so strongly about it.

"SURPRISE!"

His expression went from anger, to shock, and back to anger in the span of ten seconds as he realised what was happening. One look at the decorations and the cake confirmed it.

"(Name), what is this?" Ace's hard gaze turned on you.

You shrunk back a little ,not used to being on the receiving end of that look, "You never celebrate your birthday, so I wanted-"

"There's a reason I don't!" He raised his voice, making you flinch.

"I-I'm sorry-" You started, panic flooding your body. "I didn't-"

"Think? No, you didn't," he cut you off harshly. "If you were thinking, you would have asked me first!" Small flames flickered on several parts of his body as he stepped closer, glaring menacingly.

At the first sign of your body trembling, Marco stepped between the two of you, "Ace, stop."

You felt humiliated. The rest of the crew had seen everything, and your face burned with embarrassment. You shook slightly, the panic growing until you became unsteady and stumbled, catching yourself on the wall.

You turned and fled, hot tears streaming down your face.

You barely made it into the room before you couldn't take it anymore, your entire frame shaking so violently you couldn't keep your balance. You fell to your hands and knees, unable to breathe as you sobbed.

Someone came in behind you, and you made out a figure trying to help you up, but you couldn't tell who it was before you passed out.

-

You woke up in your bed, but with an empty spot beside you. You frowned deeply - Ace hadn't slept here with you last night. He was never that upset with you, he always craved your touch regardless.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You felt horrible, not just emotionally but physically too. Still, you got up to get ready.

Your first action was to find Marco, because if Ace hadn't come back last night then it must have been the doctor who put you in your bed. Which you were grateful for, but embarrassed about.

"(Name)! How are you feeling?" He offered you a warm smile when you eventually found him.

"Better," you admitted, "But..."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not you who needs to apologise," you sighed. "But anyway, thank you for helping me last night. Have you seen Ace?" The moment you saw Marco's expression, your anxiety returned. "What?"

"(Name)..." He sighed. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Why?" But even as you asked, unease gnawed at you slowly and made you uncertain you wanted to know the answer.

Before Marco could answer, someone's shout from outside made you freeze up.

"Ace, there you are! Finally made it back from the bar? With all those pretty women that were surrounding you, we feared the worst!"

It was a harmless joke to the crewmate who'd spoken, but those words crushed whatever hope you were holding onto that you could talk to Ace about what happened.

Marco quickly went to close the door, "You can stay here if you'd prefer not to see him." He eyed your trembling hands, then added, "I think it would be best if I go talk to him."

All you could do was nod, before you had to force yourself to sit down. The anxiety you felt increased tenfold, making your head spin. The dizziness worsened, to the point that you felt as if you were going to faint again. You tried breathing in and out deeply, but that failed and the tears came before you could stop them.

How could one small issue, that could have been talked through rationally, cause this much hurt?

When you eventually ran out of tears and stopped shaking, you decided you'd had enough. Ignoring Marco's suggestion to stay there, you left his room and left the ship, going onto the island it was docked at.

Acting as if you didn't hear the confused calls and shouts of your concerned crewmates behind you.

A hand closed around your wrist before you could get too far, and without thinking you swivelled around and punched your assailant square in the nose.

Ace let go and stumbled back, a surprised and pained grunt leaving his lips as he covered his sore appendage, "I deserve that."

"What do you want?" You asked emotionlessly, arms crossed.

"To apologise," he looked up at you, guilt clear in his eyes. Hurt and panic joined it when he reached for you again but you flinched away from him. A first.

"For insulting me or for going to be with other girls on your birthday?" You snapped, crossing your arms.

His guilt worsened, "I...both."

"This is the worst apology I've ever heard."

"Look, I'm sorry," he pleaded, "I'm really, really sorry. You didn't make me upset, you never do. I was just...the mission went bad, and I barely got out of there and I was just so frustrated that I couldn't see or think straight. And I ended up hurting the person I love the most because of it." He stepped closer slowly, shoulders sagging in relief when you didn't move away. "I know it's not an excuse, and I feel so, so horrible for being the cause of a panic attack...But please let me make it up to you, I want to celebrate my birthday with you. You're the reason I want to celebrate it now. Please..."

The sincerity of his words and the pain in his eyes were enough to convince you that he was truly sorry. You sighed, finally letting your guard back down and taking his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I forgive you, just...don't do it again. If you do I will throw you into the ocean."

His eyes lit up and he engulfed you in the tightest of hugs, "Deal!"

He sucked up to you hard the following few days, doing anything and everything you asked. He knew the crew took advantage of that and asked you to tell him to do certain things, but he never protested because he knew he had a lot to make up for.

He brought you breakfast in bed, forcing himself to wake up earlier than he would usually just to get you food for when you woke up. He made the bed and cleaned the room, organised your clothes and attended to you every need.

Because the thing about Ace is that he cares deeply, and loves even deeper. If he hurts someone he loves more than anything, he doesn't forgive himself easily and he grovels, hard. Even if you've already forgiven him.

But that's what you loved most about him, his passion for and commitment to the ones he loves.