#you do not understand I keep thinking about them

[marzipanandminutiae]

this is funny but also I have History thoughts (of course)-

modern readers often don't understand the historical context of what makes the kind of downsizing that seems comical to us today actually pretty unfortunate AND/OR that the person complaining about it is meant to seem ridiculous and that goes over people's heads now (ie Anne Elliot's father and sister literally on the verge of LOSING their HOUSE financially and still renting lodgings in the most fashionable/expensive part of Bath- the point there is that the "hardship" could be so easily avoided by just. not being spendthrift assholes. and Austen's readers would have understood that)

do people really think Jane Austen was writing in or after 1870? like those are such wildly disparate cultural moments that it's like saying "someone has PtSD from the Bee Wars of 1970 in this book by F. Scott Fitzgerald"- not only is it literally impossible, but those periods are so unalike that you wouldn't even think to write that

although I guess someone else said the 1870 part and then OP said Jane Austen separately so maybe those are two different versions of the story

there was a rewrite with a few cursory changes for copyright reasons in 1870. everyone liked Basil better in the original

Writing period dramas in the discord, lads

[pillsatoru]

you didn’t mean to upset him.

“i don’t understand how i can’t bring boys over but you’re free to bring home that girl for a quick fuck. it’s not fair!” you yelled at him.

it’s been hours of the same conversation and he was getting sick of it.

“baby, i didn’t bring that girl over to fuck.”

his hand reached up to his face, sliding off his glasses to set them on the counter that he was leaning against. “i came home with her because we had a project to do in my class, you know this because i mentioned it that morning.”

“she was so clearly into you tho.”

“and what if she was? doesn’t mean i did anything intimate with her. i don’t see how her little crush on me has anything to worry you about.”

“and i don’t know why me bringing a boy over concerns you either.” you shot back.

“watch that tone.” he warned. his previously blue eyes that would bright up a dark room have now darkened enough to match the darkness that was seeping into the kitchen thanks to the rainy weather peeking into through the window.

you could feel tears threatened to spill out of your eyes because of how frustrated you were.

“baby..” he repeated.

“don’t call me that. we’re just roommates.”

now his eyes have completely darkened and a cold atmosphere surrounded him. his face was serious. “just roommates hm?”

he was hurt of course.

“what was your goal when you brought home that boy huh?”

you stayed quiet.

“to make me jealous? to pay me back? we both agreed on not bringing people over for sex. were you jealous of the girl from my class?”

all you could do was nod.

“if i hadn’t made it clear enough, you’re the girl i want. why would i be stupid and put my dick inside some sorority girl.”

his dirty words made you clench your thighs together.

“when i all ive ever wanted to do is to put it in you.”

your cheeks heated up. “satoru..”

“now let me ask this again. are we just roommates?”

of course not. roommates don’t just ride each other like rabbits in heat like the way you’re doing.

your clothes were discarded on the floor, hands shakily rubbing down and up his abs all while he just watched.

he was still leaning back on the counter, taking sight of your pretty tits before moving back to your face.

“please.. m’sorry toru.. ngh m’sorry.” your apologies fell upon deaf ears. this was your punishment.

“yer gonna ride me and im not gonna help for shit.”

and he kept his word. he hasn’t done more than let out a small grunt so far.

it was pissing you off.

“please..” you begged, leaving sloppy but sweet kisses on him. you tried everything. picking up your pace or slowing it down. nothing worked.

not until he saw you begin to sob, hiding into his neck. he immediately softened up.

“shh darling. i forgive you shh don’t cry.” he cooed, hand rubbing up and down your back encouraging you to keep going.

you were wrapped in an embrace all while you continued chasing your orgasm. you both finished at the same time.

“good job baby. good job. don’t you ever think that shit again okay? cmon, let’s head to the bedroom.”

you fell asleep cuddled up next to your roommate boyfriend.

visual !

[aventurineswife]

Hsr men with quiet loving. (aventurine, Dr ratio, Dan heng, sunday, Jiaoqiu and anaxa)

Like their spouse will linger around them, either wanting attention but not letting them know (or their just staying in the same room minding their own business) and their hubby will just come by and give them a quick peck or hug or just lean against them while not stopping what they were doing (to show that they're not alone and refuse to neglect them of physical touch or even a snack X3c)

-🍮

Every Small Touch a Proof

Tags: Jiaoqiu x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Anaxa x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic, Quiet Intimacy, Mutual Affection, Established Relationship, Gentle Gestures, Slice Of Life, Subtle Romance, Comforting Presence, Mutual Understanding.

The clicking of Aventurine’s watch was nearly drowned out by the low hum of the display screens in his office. Spreadsheets, projections, and half a dozen games of chance were open at once—each spinning at the pace only his mind could keep up with.

You sat on the sofa just a few feet away, a book open on your lap, eyes flicking between the words and the man himself. You didn’t say a thing—he’d been in “full focus” mode for hours—but your quiet presence was intentional. A way to share the space without intruding.

He didn’t glance up. Not at first. Then, with the casual elegance only Aventurine could manage, he finished typing a figure, flicked the pen he’d been toying with onto the desk, and crossed the short distance to you.

Without a word, he leaned down, lips brushing your temple in a passing kiss. A faint smell of cologne lingered as he straightened, the corner of his mouth curling in that barely-there smile.

“Don’t think I don’t notice when you haunt my office, sweetheart,” he said, almost lazily, before heading back to his desk.

You were about to reply when something small landed on your book—a perfectly wrapped truffle, from the stash he pretended he didn’t keep. You looked up just in time to catch him lowering back into his chair, pretending to be absorbed in his next move.

He didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling. And you didn’t need to ask to know the candy was his way of saying: Stay. I like you here.

The soft swish of pages turning filled the archive car of the Astral Express. Dan Heng stood at his desk, reviewing records in neat, steady strokes of ink. You were tucked into the corner bench with your own book, legs drawn up, making no sound other than the occasional shift of your weight.

You weren’t here to bother him—you just liked being where he was.

Minutes passed. Maybe more than an hour. Then, almost without warning, Dan Heng moved away from his desk. The floor was silent beneath his steps until he was right in front of you. He didn’t speak. Didn’t even make you put your book down.

He leaned over slightly, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head, the kind so brief it could almost be missed. And yet, you felt the warmth linger.

When he pulled away, his hand brushed your shoulder—gentle, reassuring—before he returned to his work. He didn’t glance back, but the rhythm of his writing was steadier now.

The touch hadn’t interrupted you, but it told you everything: I see you. I’m glad you’re here.

In the quiet glow of the Astral Express’s observation deck, you sat curled up with your notebook, tracing idle lines into the page. Sunday was by the far window, hands clasped behind his back, halo faintly glinting in the light of distant stars. He seemed miles away in thought, yet you stayed—content just to share the stillness.

You didn’t ask for his attention. You didn’t need to.

A flutter of movement caught your eye—his feathered ear-wings shifting as he glanced over his shoulder. His expression softened almost imperceptibly before he crossed the space between you.

Sunday knelt beside your chair, one hand coming to rest lightly over your knee. His eyes held yours for a heartbeat, quiet and steady, before he leaned in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek.

“Even the quietest presence,” he murmured, voice like a low chord in the air, “changes the shape of solitude.”

He stayed there for a moment longer—close, but unintrusive—then rose and returned to the window, scarf trailing behind him like an afterthought of light.

You went back to your scribbles, heart warmer than the tea beside you. He might retreat into thought, but he would never let you feel unseen.

The study smelled faintly of parchment and metal ink nibs. Ratio was perched at his desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, his pen dancing over papers dense with equations and notes. The rhythm of his writing was sharp and decisive—one you’d grown to recognize as his “fully engaged” state.

You sat on the opposite side of the room, curled up in the corner chair with a datapad, half-reading, half-listening to the soft scratch of his pen. You weren’t after conversation—you just liked being near him.

Without looking up, Ratio set his pen down for a moment, reached across the desk, and slid a small plate toward the edge. On it rested a neatly cut slice of fruit, skin peeled with surgical precision.

“You’ve been sitting there far too still,” he said, voice matter-of-fact but softened by the faintest lilt. “Eat. A mind works better when it’s fed… and I’d rather you not fade into the upholstery.”

You took the fruit, amused at the way he went right back to annotating his manuscript, as if that tiny gesture hadn’t just warmed your chest.

Ratio didn’t glance up, but the slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth told you enough: Your presence is not just tolerated—it’s accounted for.

The faint aroma of simmering herbs and broth filled the small preparation room. Jiaoqiu stood at the counter, long fingers working with steady precision as he measured powders into a lacquered bowl. His fox ears twitched occasionally at the faint bubbling from the cauldron in the corner.

You lingered near the low table, folding small squares of paper for his ingredient packets. The work was quiet, companionable—the kind of silence you’d both grown to appreciate.

At one point, Jiaoqiu’s steps approached, soft but sure despite his unseeing eyes. He stopped beside you, fingers brushing lightly along the tabletop until they found your hand. He gave it the gentlest squeeze, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“You’ve been here the whole time,” he murmured with a small smile, tone warm but edged with quiet knowing. “The room feels… less empty because of it.”

Then, without letting go, he guided your hand toward a small dish—a neatly prepared dumpling, still warm. “For you. Don’t let it get cold.”

By the time you looked up, he’d already returned to the counter, resuming his careful work, tail swaying in a slow, content rhythm.

The workshop was scattered with parchment scrolls, alchemical glassware, and fragments of strange mechanisms whose purpose only Anaxa could explain. He stood at a tall workbench, sleeves pushed back, one hand adjusting the delicate gears of some half-completed device.

You sat on a stool nearby, absentmindedly sketching in a notebook, letting the sound of tiny clicks and the occasional scrape of metal fill the air.

Without preamble, Anaxa stepped away from his bench, crossing to you in two long strides. His hand came to rest briefly on your shoulder, the cool edge of his rings catching your skin. He leaned down just enough to press a quick kiss to the crown of your head—a fleeting touch, but deliberate.

“Still here, hm?” His voice carried that wry, almost mischievous lilt he so often used when teasing. “I’d accuse you of spying on my brilliance, but… I suspect you simply like breathing the same air as me.”

He didn’t wait for your rebuttal—just straightened, adjusted the cuff of his glove, and returned to his bench. Yet the faint hum in his throat, almost a tune, told you the interruption had pleased him more than he’d admit.

[inseobts]

After the Flames

law x gn!reader

after losing your first love, ace, you spend two years with the heart pirates. somewhere along the way, you start to fall for law, but what happens if he doesn’t feel the same—or pretends not to?

words count: 4.5k

warning and tags: gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort/hurt, slow burn, adventure, grief, angst

law m.list || anime m.list || ao3 || ko-fi

The battlefield is full of screams and smoke. Your body feels heavy, like it doesn’t belong to you. You can’t move much, and your chest burns with pain.

You whisper, voice breaking, “Ace…”

But Ace is gone.

You can still hear Luffy screaming nearby. His voice is raw, broken. It hurts to listen.

Suddenly, footsteps come closer. A shadow falls over you.

“Still alive.” a calm voice says. You blink and see a man with dark eyes, wearing a spotted hat. He kneels down, checking your wounds. You didn’t even notice when you left the battlefield.

“Don’t… bother,” you mutter weakly “I’ll… be fine.”

He gives you a sharp look “You’re not fine. Neither is Straw Hat.”

“Luffy…” you whisper, trying to sit up. Pain shoots through your body, and you groan.

The man, Law, presses you back down “Stay still. If you move now, you’ll die.”

You glare at him weakly “Then… why save me?”

Law doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he calls out to his crew and orders them around, but your mind is too void to hear it.

You don’t understand why, but you can’t resist. Darkness pulls you in.

When you wake again, everything smells like medicine and metal. The room is small, moving like waves are carrying it. You realize you’re still on that ship.

A familiar voice makes you turn your head “Y/N… you’re awake.”

It’s Luffy. His eyes are red and tired, but he tries to smile.

“…Luffy.” you whisper, throat tight.

He nods, but you can see how broken he feels “Ace is gone.” His voice cracks, and you can’t stop the tears that come.

Neither of you speaks for a long time. The silence is heavy.

The door opens and Law steps inside “Good. You’re both conscious.”

Luffy frowns “Why did you save us?”

Law crosses his arms “Because I felt like it. Don’t think too hard about it.”

You look at him, confused “You… saved us for no reason?”

His lips twitch “Maybe I just didn’t want to watch two idiots throw their lives away.”

Days later, you overhear Luffy speaking with Rayleigh. His voice is stronger now.

“I need to get stronger. I’ll train with you” Luffy says.

Your chest tightens “Luffy… you’re leaving?”

He looks at you with sad eyes “I have to. I can’t lose anyone else. Not again.”

You try to stay brave, but your voice shakes “I… understand.”

Rayleigh puts a hand on his shoulder, and soon, they’re gone.

You stand alone on the deck, wind cold against your skin.

A voice speaks behind you “So Strawhat chose his path.”

You turn. Law leans against the railing, watching you with unreadable eyes.

“…Yes.” you whisper.

He studies you quietly, then says, “What about you?”

“What?”

“You’re weak. Grief is eating you alive. If you stay like this, you’ll die. But…” He tilts his head, eyes sharp “If you want, I’ll give you a place on my ship. I’ll make you stronger. Strong enough that no one can take from you again.”

Your eyes widen “You would… do that for me?”

Law shrugs “It benefits me too. A strong ally is always useful. So… what’s your answer?”

You take a deep breath. Your heart still aches, but something inside you whispers that maybe this is the chance you need.

“…I’ll go with you.”

Law smirks, faint but real this time “Good. Don’t regret it.”

The submarine/ship rocks gently, but it feels strange, almost unreal. You sit on a bench, staring at the water, remembering Ace’s smile, his laughter, the way he always made everything brighter.

Law comes up behind you, his hands in his pockets “You’re not dead, so that’s good. But you look like hell.”

You don’t turn.

“I feel like hell.” Your voice is quiet “I keep thinking… Ace should be here. He should’ve… saved us.”

Law sighs, leaning against the railing “There’s nothing I can do about him now. But I can make sure you don’t die too.”

“I don’t care if I die,” you whisper “It hurts too much… without him.”

He looks at you for a long moment “Then prove me wrong.”

“…What?”

“Train. Get stronger. Stay alive. Not for me, not for anyone, but for yourself. Otherwise, all this grief… it’ll kill you.”

You look down at your hands “I can’t forget him. I… I never will.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Law says simply “But I can’t help you survive if you don't want it for yourself to start with.”

A few days pass. The crew moves quietly around you. You can barely eat. Pain lingers everywhere, not just your wounds but your heart.

Law calls you to the training room “Come on. Sitting here crying isn’t going to help you.”

You shake your head “I’m not ready.”

“Then you’ll die the first time someone stronger than you shows up.”

You glare at him, but you follow anyway. You hate that he’s right.

The training is brutal. Law doesn’t go easy “Again!” he orders “Faster! Stronger!”

You collapse on the floor “I… can’t!”

He crouches next to you, tone sharp “I don’t care if you think you can’t. Do it. Push yourself. Your grief won’t help Ace anymore. You have to keep living.”

You close your eyes, remembering Ace’s face “I… I’m trying…” you whisper.

Law nods, standing “Then that’s all I can ask for right now.”

Later, you sit on the deck alone, the wind cold on your skin. You whisper to yourself, “I’ll never forget you, Ace. Never…”

Law appears beside you “You talk to him a lot.”

“…He was important to me.” you say softly.

“I can see that.” he says, voice low “Don’t let anyone take your life away while you mourn. That includes me.”

You glance at him, unsure why he says that. He just watches the horizon quietly, then turns and walks away.

And you realize… this ship, this man, they aren’t a replacement. But maybe… they can help you survive.

The sea breeze feels different now. Stronger. Sharper. Months have passed, but the ache in your chest never leaves. You know it won’t.

You stand on deck, holding your weapon, one Law helped you choose. It feels heavy, but not impossible.

“Your stance is sloppy” Law says behind you.

You groan “You always say that.”

“That’s because it’s always true.” He steps closer, adjusting your arms “Keep your balance. Or the first real fight will knock you down.”

You roll your eyes “You’re really bad at compliments, you know that?”

Law smirks faintly “I don’t give compliments. I give facts.”

Later, the crew gathers around. Bepo looks excited “Captain! The island is close. Are we really going on land this time?”

“Yeah.” Law answers. His eyes flick to you “And Y/N is coming too.”

Your stomach twists “Me? I’m… not ready.”

“You’ve been training for months. You’re coming.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

Shachi grins “Don’t worry, we’ll watch your back.”

Penguin nods “Yeah. You’re one of us now.”

Their words make your chest warm, even if guilt follows right after. You whisper to yourself, Ace… I hope you’d be okay with this.

The island is busy, full of voices and market stalls, but it’s not safe, Law warns you quickly.

“Keep close. Marines are hunting here.”

You nod, gripping your weapon tighter.

Then an ambush. Marines surround you. Your heart races, panic hitting hard.

“I can’t…” you whisper. Your hands shake. Memories of Ace’s last fight burn in your head.

“Y/N!” Law’s voice cuts sharp “Focus. You’re not him. You’re you. Fight.”

A Marine charges at you. Your body moves almost on instinct, swing, block, dodge. You’re clumsy, but alive.

Bepo cheers “You did it!”

Breathing hard, you stare at your hands. You can’t believe it.

Law’s eyes are calm but sharp “Not bad. But don’t let your mind wander next time. The dead don’t need you to follow them.”

You look away, voice low “I miss you Ace...”

Law doesn’t argue. He just says, “Missing him and dying for him are two different things. Choose the first.”

For the first time in months, you feel like maybe you can.

The ship rocks quietly in the night. Everyone else is asleep, but you sit alone on deck, staring at the stars. Ace always loved nights like this.

You whisper, “I wish you were here.”

A voice answers behind you “Talking to him again?”

You turn. Law is there, carrying two cups. He sets one in front of you “Tea. Don’t complain.”

You blink, surprised “You… made this?”

“Bepo did. I just brought it.”

You almost laugh, almost cry “Figures.” You sip anyway. Warmth spreads through you.

Law leans against the railing, silent for a while. Then, softly, he says, “You’re not the only one with ghosts.”

You look at him, startled. He never talks about himself “What do you mean?”

His eyes are on the sea, far away “I had a family. A home. Someone… who saved me. They’re all gone. I thought the pain would kill me, but… it didn’t.”

You swallow hard “So… how do you live with it?”

Law’s jaw tightens “You don’t ‘fix’ it. You carry it. Forever. But you learn to walk with it instead of letting it drag you under.”

His words hit something deep inside you. Your chest aches, but in a different way “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not.” His gaze finally meets yours, steady and sharp “The void Ace left in you? Nothing and no one will fill it. Not me, not Straw Hat, not anyone. But that doesn’t mean you have to waste away.”

You don’t realize tears are falling until he looks away politely, giving you space.

“Why tell me this?” you whisper.

“Because you needed to hear it. And because…” He hesitates “I know what it’s like to drown in the past.”

Something in your heart shifts. You don’t want it to, you don’t want to betray Ace, but for the first time in months, you feel a hand pulling you out of the darkness.

You whisper, almost to yourself, “You’re breaking me apart, Trafalgar Law.”

He smirks faintly “Good. You can rebuild stronger.”

The night is quiet again, but your chest feels different. Heavy with grief… and something else you can’t name yet.

More months pass. Training, missions, laughter with the Heart Pirates, all becomes your new rhythm.

Bepo drags you into card games at night. Shachi and Penguin argue loudly about dumb things, making you laugh despite yourself. For the first time since Ace’s death, you don’t feel completely empty when you wake up.

But sometimes, the guilt creeps back.

On one quiet night, you and Law sit across from each other, a map spread between you. He explains a route, but you’re distracted by the scar on his hand.

You ask softly, “Does it hurt?”

He glances at you “What, this? No. Pain’s just another memory.”

“…You talk like someone twice your age.”

“I’ve lived enough for two lives.”

Your chest tightens. The way he says it, calm, unflinching, it chips at the walls you’ve built around yourself.

You look away quickly, mumbling, “You’re impossible.”

Law smirks faintly “I get that a lot.”

The crew bonds with you more as months pass. Shachi grins one day after a spar “You’re getting better! You almost hit me this time.”

“Almost?” you groan.

“Almost is still progress.” Bepo says with a smile.

Even Law admits, “You’re improving. Don’t let it go to your head.”

You roll your eyes, but secretly his words warm you more than you’d like.

One night, you wake from another nightmare, Ace’s face, his last moments. You stagger onto the deck for air.

Law is already there, leaning against the railing, moonlight on his face.

He glances at you “Dreams again?”

You nod, unable to speak.

He doesn’t push. Instead, he says, “I still have these dreams, too.”

Something breaks in you. He never shares much, but when he does, it’s like he’s peeling away your armor without even trying.

You whisper, “Sometimes I feel like… you’re the only one who really sees me now.”

Law doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are on the stars. Finally, he says, “Maybe because I know what it’s like.”

Your heart aches. And you hate it, because part of you realizes you’re falling, slowly, painfully, for him.

But you grip the railing tight and whisper to yourself, No. I can’t. I loved Ace. I still love him.

Law glances at you, but says nothing. Maybe he already knows.

Months. Missions. Training. Quiet nights.

And always, Law.

He doesn’t say much, but he’s there. Correcting your stance in battle. Handing you a cup of tea when he notices your hands shaking. Standing beside you on deck when nightmares won’t let you sleep.

Little things that dig into you more than you want them to.

One evening, you’re patching up a small cut on your arm. Law walks in without knocking.

“You’re doing it wrong.” he says flatly.

You glare at him “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

He takes the bandage from your hand anyway “You’ll infect it if you keep fumbling.”

You open your mouth to argue, but when his fingers brush your skin, your breath stutters. You quickly look away, praying he didn’t notice.

He finishes wrapping the wound neatly “There. Try not to stab yourself next time.”

You mutter, “Thanks… I guess.”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile “You’re welcome.”

Your heart betrays you with a flutter. You hate it. You love it. You hate that you love it.

Another time, after a tough spar, you collapse onto the floor, panting.

“Pathetic.” Law says, arms crossed.

You throw him a glare “Screw you, Captain.”

He raises an eyebrow “Careful. That’s insubordination.”

Shachi and Penguin laugh from the corner “Ooooh, Y/N’s gonna get punished~”

You roll your eyes “You guys are worse than him.”

But when Law offers a hand to pull you up, you hesitate. The calluses on his palm are rough, steady, real. For a moment, you imagine never letting go.

You quickly snatch your hand back once you’re standing “I… can walk on my own.”

Law gives you a long, unreadable look. But he doesn’t push.

That night, lying in your bunk, you whisper into the dark, Ace… I still love you. I always will. So why… why does he keep breaking through?

The guilt twists deep, but the feeling won’t go away.

You’re falling. Slowly. Quietly. Against your will.

And you refuse to admit it, at least not yet.

Two years. Almost.

It feels unreal.

When you look back, the person you were when Ace died feels like a ghost. You’re stronger now ,your body, your mind, your will. The Heart Pirates laugh when you joke, trust you in battle, and never treat you like dead weight anymore.

But the truth is, what changed you most wasn’t just the training. It was him.

Law.

One night, the crew celebrates a successful raid. Shachi and Penguin are drunk and loud. Bepo dances with a sailor from town. You laugh until your stomach hurts.

Then you notice Law isn’t here.

You find him on the deck, sitting alone, staring at the horizon. His hat sits beside him for once, his hair messy from the sea wind.

You hesitate before sitting down next to him “You always disappear when things get fun.”

He doesn’t look at you “Someone has to keep an eye on the ship.”

You snort “You just don’t like people.”

He smirks faintly “…Maybe.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy like it used to be. It’s calm. Comfortable.

You whisper, “When I first came here, I thought I’d never stop hurting.”

Law finally looks at you. His gaze is steady, sharp, but softer than you’ve ever seen “And now?”

“I still hurt,” you admit, “But I can… breathe. Thanks to you… and the crew.”

For a moment, you think he might say something. But instead, he leans back, staring at the stars.

“…Don’t thank me. You did the work. You survived.”

His words should feel cold, but they don’t. They make you want to cry.

Later that night, you lie awake in your bunk.

Your heart is restless, torn in two.

Ace… I still love you. I always will. But… Law…

You press your hand to your chest, trembling.

He makes me feel alive again. He makes me want to live.

You bury your face into the pillow, whispering to yourself, “I can’t. I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

The truth is too heavy. The guilt is too sharp. But the feelings… they’re there. And they’re only growing.

One afternoon, you’re sparring with Bepo. You dodge, but stumble, almost hitting the ground, until a hand grabs your wrist.

Law.

He steadies you, grip strong.

“Clumsy.” he mutters.

Your cheeks burn “I was distracted.”

“Then stop getting distracted.” His tone is sharp, but his eyes soften for just a second before he lets go.

Shachi whispers loudly to Penguin, “If he stares at them any harder, he’s gonna drill holes.”

Penguin smirks “Nah. He’s gonna combust first.”

Bepo tilts his head “Do you think they know they like each other?”

The three snicker while you glare at them, face hot. Law pretends not to hear, but the tips of his ears turn red.

Another night, after dinner, you sit with a book you’re barely reading. Law is nearby, scribbling notes in his journal.

The silence is comfortable, but heavy.

You steal a glance at him. The way his hair falls into his face. The faint scar on his jaw. The way he frowns slightly when concentrating.

Your chest tightens, and you quickly look away.

At the same moment, Law glances at you. He catches the way your shoulders tense, the way you bite your lip when lost in thought.

He looks back at his journal, forcing his pen to move, but his hand shakes slightly.

Shachi strolls by, grinning “Wow, you two sure look busy not looking at each other.”

You throw a pillow at him. Law scowls “Shut up.”

As weeks pass, the tension only grows.

When you fight, he’s always at your side. When you’re tired, he wordlessly passes you water. When you can’t sleep, you find him awake, pretending it’s coincidence.

Neither of you admits anything. Not to each other. Not even to yourselves.

But the crew knows. Of course they know, and they’re just waiting for the moment when the two of you finally break.

The last week feels wrong.

At first, you can’t name it, but then you notice the pattern.

When Law hands you a book, or a drink, or a weapon, your fingers brush his and he yanks his hand away like your touch burns. Almost rude. Almost cold.

When you sit next to him during meals, he eats quickly and leaves, muttering something about “work”.

When you find him on deck to talk, he listens for only a moment before someone passes by, Shachi, Penguin, Bepo, and suddenly he remembers something urgent he has to tell them. He leaves you standing there, lips pressed tight.

It’s so unlike him. Law isn’t warm, but he’s steady. Reliable. Now he feels… unstable.

You lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, heart aching. He’s pushing me away. But why?

And yet, no matter how much it hurts, the truth inside you is louder.

I love him.

You whisper it into the dark, the same way you once whispered Ace’s name. It feels like a betrayal, and at the same time, like breathing after being underwater for too long.

Ace, I’ll always love you. Always. But… this heart won’t stop beating for him.

By the fourth night, you’ve made your decision. You can’t leave without saying it.

The final evening arrives. The crew celebrates below deck, loud voices, laughter, drinks. Shachi and Penguin argue over a card game. Bepo dances with two crewmates, tail swishing happily.

You laugh with them, but your chest is tight. Every second feels like a countdown.

Finally, when no one is paying attention, you slip away.

The night air is cool. On deck, you see him: Law, leaning on the railing, hat low over his eyes. As if he was waiting for this moment, yet you know he wasn’t.

Your voice shakes “Law… can I talk to you?”

He glances at you, unreadable “What is it?”

You stop a few feet away, fists clenched to stop the trembling “I need to say this before I go. If I don’t, I’ll regret it forever.”

His eyes sharpen slightly, but he doesn’t move “Go on.”

You inhale sharply, heart pounding “I… have feelings for you.”

The words hang in the air, heavier than cannons.

For the first time, Law looks stunned. His lips part. His eyes widen, raw and unguarded.

“…I… I wasn’t expecting that.” he says finally, his voice lower than usual.

You wait. The seconds stretch, unbearable “So… what do you feel?”

Silence.

His gaze shifts away. His jaw tightens. His fingers twitch against the railing, as if fighting words he refuses to say.

But nothing comes.

He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t say anything.

The rejection slices deeper than any wound you’ve ever taken.

You force a laugh, but it’s cracked and weak “Forget it. Just… forget I said anything. It’s okay, I didn’t want to make things embarrassing. I just to had say it, I… didn’t want to regret not saying it… again.”

Your throat burns as you turn, walking quickly before he can see the tears. You don’t look back. You can’t.

Behind you, Law stays frozen, staring at the sea, a storm raging in his eyes.

The morning is too quiet.

The crew stirs slowly, some hungover, some yawning, but your bunk is empty.

Bepo is the first to notice “Y/N?”

He checks the kitchen, the deck, and the training room. His voice grows sharper, panicked “Y/N! Where are you?!”

Law looks up from his notes, frowning “What’s going on?”

“I can’t find Y/N anywhere!” Bepo says, his tail puffed, ears flat “They’re nowhere on the ship!”

Law’s stomach twists, but before he can answer, another crewmate rushes in “Captain!”

“What is it?” Law snaps.

The man looks uneasy “Did you… send someone out on a mission? Urgently?”

Law narrows his eyes “No. Why?”

The crewmate swallows “Because… a boat is missing.”

The words hit harder than cannon fire, and for once, Law’s calm mask cracks.

“Y/N…” he whispers, voice heavy.

And for the first time in a long time, Trafalgar Law has no plan.

The crew gathers on deck, tense. Bepo paces back and forth, ears flat “Why would they just… leave? Without a word?”

Shachi frowns “Doesn’t make sense. Y/N never did stuff like this.”

Penguin mutters, “Yeah… they’re not the type to ditch us.”

Law stands at the railing, arms crossed, staring at the empty sea. His expression is stone. Too calm.

But inside, his pulse pounds. His chest feels tight. He tries to think logically: Where would you go? What would you do? His mind races faster than his body will show.

He remembers last night. Your eyes when you confessed. Your voice breaking when he stayed silent. The way you walked away from him, shoulders trembling.

He presses his fingers hard against the railing until his knuckles ache.

I screwed up.

“Captain,” Bepo says suddenly, his voice small, “Do you… know why Y/N left?”

The crew turns to him, eyes sharp, waiting.

Law doesn’t look back “No.”

It’s a lie, and it tastes like poison.

Penguin narrows his eyes “You’re hiding something.”

Shachi crosses his arms “Yeah. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. If you don’t know why they left, then I’m a Sea King’s uncle.”

Law’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t respond.

The silence says more than words ever could.

Bepo growls softly, tail twitching “If they don’t come back… I’ll never forgive you.”

That one cuts deep.

Later, alone in his quarters, Law drops the mask. His hands tremble as he stares at the empty map on his desk.

Why didn’t I say it? Why couldn’t I just…

He closes his eyes, remembering your voice. I have feelings for you.

He whispers into the silence, “I feel the same.”

But you’re not here to hear it.

The next day, the Heart Pirates set sail. Law orders it like his voice is steady, but the crew notices the sharpness in his tone, the way his eyes scan the horizon more than the map.

They don’t say it, but they know: the Captain is looking for you.

And Law knows he missed his chance and that he basically pushed you away.

Now all he can do is hope he can find you before the sea takes you somewhere he can’t reach.

The ship is quiet, too quiet. Everyone is tense, waiting for Law to say something.

Finally, Bepo breaks the silence, ears drooping “Captain… should we go to Sabaody? That’s where Y/N said they’d meet Luffy, right? Maybe they went there.”

Shachi’s eyes light up “Yeah, that makes sense! We could still catch them.”

Penguin nods quickly “Let’s just head there. Maybe they’re waiting.”

For a moment, hope flickers through the crew.

But Law shakes his head “No.”

The word drops like a weight.

Bepo blinks, stunned “No? Why not?”

Law keeps his eyes on the map, his voice steady, too steady “By the time we reach Sabaody, they’ll already be gone. They can’t sit still on that island after what happened there. If Y/N joined them, they’re already on the move.”

“But…” Bepo starts, desperate.

“No.” Law’s voice cuts sharper this time. He closes the map with finality “We’d lose time and risk exposing ourselves for nothing. Our only option now is to keep moving forward.”

The crew exchanges uneasy glances. They know he’s right. But it doesn’t make it easier.

Bepo’s fists clench. His voice cracks “Then what? We just… hope we bump into them again?”

Law’s hand tightens over the map until his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t look up when he answers.

“…Yes.”

That night, the crew talks quietly among themselves.

“We should’ve gone after them,” Penguin mutters “I hate this.”

Shachi sighs “Yeah. But the Captain… he’s beating himself up already. You can tell.”

Bepo hugs his knees, whispering, “They were happy here. We were family. Why would they leave without saying goodbye…? We were celebrating them the night before… Something happened and Captain doesn’t want to tell us…”

No one answers.

In his cabin, Law sits alone, hat on the table, shadows hiding his face. His hand rests on the map, tracing lines he isn’t seeing.

He whispers to the empty room, “I won’t lose you too.”

But the sea doesn’t answer, and for the first time in years, Trafalgar Law feels powerless.

[cat-and-cazio]

It's been two days since my transformation, and my stepmother Wormwood (I don't even know if that's her real name) is already bringing the gun out.

On Tuesday I made the mistake of using our only bathroom for about two minutes longer than usual. Of course, Wormwood being Wormwood and my dad being my dad, I ended up as a swan in the end.

Now, I understand if you think this is some tragic story of "woe is me, I am a bird and cannot live in the human world!"

No. This is no tragedy.

I am getting revenge.

On Wednesday I woke up way before anyone else. I flew up to the windowsill and tapped on the glass with my beak, as hard and as loud as I could. Oooh, Wormwood was so angry! She threw a crystal at the window, and I just honked at her mockingly.

Then I pulled out some of my chest feathers and clogged up the gutters. When the next rain comes the basement will be knee-deep in water! The ingredients will be ruined!

Today Wormwood came outside with a rifle. Her spells haven't been effective at keeping me out, like she could even dream of trying.

So naturally, I swooped down and knocked out out of her hands. Before she could pick it back up, I unloaded it and swallowed the bullets.

Then I flew off to the lake and coughed them back up. Normally swans don't do that, but I have magic in me. Of course I can swallow lead bullets and cough them up!

Tomorrow, I'll just do it all again until she goes out of her mind.

You are a princess. Your evil witch stepmother turns you into a swan. Instead of running away to mope around in a lake and be beautifully tragic, you decide to stick around the palace and cause problems on purpose.

[brithebri747]

Hiiii love your writing!!!! Can I get g/n so x saja boys (romantic) where their s/o has REALLY BAD and I mean BAD period cramps (on the verge of endometriosis) and or ovulation and very heavy period bleeding (pain is so bad to the point of curling up and not being able to stand up)

thanks!!!

-Period Pains-

˚ʚ♡How the Saja Boys react to your period pains of death♡ɞ˚

-°• Contents: a compilation of comforting headcanons on how the Saja Bous react to your period.

-°• Warnings: blood, period

-°• Bribri Speaks!: Oh my gosh, I’m literally one mine right now 😭 Thank you so much for your request! I hope I did it justice! Like always, if you want me to alter anything, let me know! I hope you enjoy!

Jinu Saja:

ʚ-» Due to being surrounded by women as a child, including his mother and sister, Jinu knew a bit about periods and the pains that accompanied them.

ʚ-» However, he’d never witnessed one as violent as yours. Finding you curled up on the couch, whimpering in pain and unable to move, was undeniably jarring.

ʚ-» “Here, sweetheart, let me get your medication.”

ʚ-» Jinu immediately goes to retrieve your heating pad, as well as you medication.

ʚ-» He helps you sit up, aware that you were far too painful to do it on your own. He passes you the medications, steadying your trembling hand as you gulp the water down.

ʚ-» He maneuvers you to lie on your stomach, turning the heating pad to full. His hands move to carefully massage your cramping back, knowing the exact points where pain originated from.

ʚ-» He uses his magic to switch on your favorite Disney movie, as his hands were occupied at the moment.

ʚ-» He was rather calm about the whole ordeal, since he had witnessed many a periods. He knew that freaking out would only heighten your already growing anxiety and anguish. Despite his tranquility, what bothered him more than blood or cramps was that you were in pain.

ʚ-» He does his best to soothe your suffering, pressing reassuring kisses to your nose and forehead. He doesn’t want to say anything that may set you off, knowing your emotions run rampant at this time of the month. So, he keeps his responses soft and gentle the duration of the movie.

ʚ-» When you’re struggling during your time of the month, Jinu is steadily supporting you through every cramp and mood swing. He never wants you to go through something so painful on your own.

Abby Saja:

ʚ-» When he realizes you’ve bled onto the couch, he instantly thinks something is seriously wrong. He assumes you’ve been stabbed or mortally injured.

ʚ-» He’s instantly by your side, mortified by the sight of the red stain.

ʚ-» “WHAT HAPPENED?!”

ʚ-» As he’s checking you for wounds, you explain that you’re on your period. He just stares at you, dumbfounded, unable to understand the concept of menstruation.

ʚ-» “What’s a period?”

ʚ-» Poor boy is utterly lost. Despite his confusion, he wraps his arms around you. Though he doesn’t understand what’s going on, he knows you’re in pain, and he wants to fix it.

ʚ-» He does everything you say. The instant you’re uttering a demand, he’s going to fulfill it. You need Advil? He has four bottles on the table, ready for your consumption. You crave chocolate? He’s ordering top brands on priority. When you sob about the most minuscule inconveniences, he doesn’t quite get it, but he offers tissues nonetheless.

ʚ-» Blood doesn’t faze him, due to the fact he was a creature of carnage. If you bleed onto his lap, he truly just shrugs it off, continuing to cuddle you.

ʚ-» If you scream or yell at him, he’s gonna pout. He doesn’t quite grasp the concept of mood swings. He just wants to help you out! He’ll snuggle you anyway, ignoring your pleas and huffs for wiggle room.

ʚ-» Abby is incredibly steadfast in his support for you. Even when you’re angry at the world and cramping like there’s no tomorrow, he won’t leave your side.

Baby Saja:

ʚ-» “Why do you sound like you’re dying?” He’ll ask, hardly glancing up from his phone.

ʚ-» When you say you’re on your period, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He’d heard rumors of the infamous periods before, but he had never been close enough with a woman to witness one.

ʚ-» Though he attempts to keep up his unbothered persona, he’s internally panicking. He didn’t particularly feel like being yelled at, nor did he want to hurt you.

ʚ-» He quietly tips his phone away from you, discreetly searching up various remedies for periods. He can tell by your scrunched nose that you’re in pure agony. Despite his nonchalance, he’s quietly worried for your safety.

ʚ-» Hardly ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. Baby pads over to the door, opening it to a box of chocolates, pain killers, and heating pads.

ʚ-» He doesn’t say anything, too embarrassed to even speak, but he arranges the stuff around you.

ʚ-» When you groan or whimper, he’ll dramatically roll his eyes like you were in a soap opera. Nevertheless, he’ll still pass you a bottle of medication and your favorite warm beverage. He acts perturbed, but he truly worries about how much pain you’re in.

ʚ-» When you ask for cuddles, he’ll scoff quietly, but wrap his arms around you nonetheless. If he’s concerned enough, he’ll even set his phone down. Perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to garner some kisses, too.

ʚ-» He watches your comfort movies with you, occasionally muttering about the stupidity of them. However, if you yell at him, the man is instantly going quiet. For all his bravado, he’s genuinely terrified of angering you.

ʚ-» Throughout your cramps, he’ll reluctantly comfort you, carefully carding his fingers through your tresses. His free hand will snake down to your back, carefully rubbing up and down your spine. Though he acts hesitant to support you, he does care about your wellbeing. He wants—no, needs—you to be alright.

Romance Saja:

ʚ-» Similar to Jinu, Romance had sisters, hence his fabulous hair care and fashion sense. So, he knew a thing or two about periods and how to aid with the pain that accompanied them.

ʚ-» When you were in pain, his heart physically ached. His emotions were completely entwined with yours, so any discomfort you experience is like a dagger to his hopeless heart.

ʚ-» If you’re crying, he’s sobbing along with you. When cramps are overtaking you, and you need solace, he’s beside you with your favorite everything, ready for comforting.

ʚ-» “Oh beloved, my heart aches for you.”

ʚ-» He has a tracking app for you. Not because he wants to attempt anything risqué, but rather because he wants to have all your supplies on deck when the pain hits.

ʚ-» He has a stockpile of medications, weighted plushies, and heated blankets in his room, all for you. He never wanted you to be without the items that made you feel comfortable.

ʚ-» The instant he hears a groan from you, he’s at your side, wrapping his arms around you in comfort. If you don’t feel like being touched, he’ll seclude himself to the kitchen, whipping up your favorite comfort food.

ʚ-» He adores Disney movies. Beauty and the Beast is his personal favorite. He believes the story to be reminiscent of you two; him being the beast, you being the beauty. He’ll hold you close to him, gently massaging your stomach as you watch.

ʚ-» Essentially, Romance refuses to leave your side. Anything you do, he’s doing as well. He’s a constant comforter in this time; and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mystery Saja:

ʚ-» He’s read about periods before. He’s not an expert on the phenomenon, but he’s aware of them.

ʚ-» So, when you’re on the bed, writhing in pain, he’s at your side, quietly asking what he can do.

ʚ-» “How can I help, angel?”

ʚ-» When you instruct him on what supplies you need, he’s mentally taking notes. He purchases a surplus of everything, wanting to stock up so you wouldn’t run out.

ʚ-» His comfort is noiseless, but it’s most definitely present. He’s always by your side when cramps hit, a steadying hand on your stomach or lower back. He’ll even let you play with his bangs, a privilege very few have.

ʚ-» He always ensures you’re fed and watered, since he knows you occasionally skip meals when you’re in pain.

ʚ-» As you sleep, he’s wide awake, watching over you. He’s your sworn protector. He refuses to leave your side even momentarily. If you whimper in your sleep, he’s comfortingly rubbing your back. If you curl into yourself, he carefully presses your heated plushie to your tummy.

ʚ-» He definitely takes time off. No matter how much you plead and beg, he’s unmoving. He would rather deal with a hoard of rampaging fans than leave you miserable.

ʚ-» Mystery is steadfast in his ways. You could be in agony for days, and he will never abandon you. He’ll always have a warmed blanket ready and chocolates present.

[tealsprinkies]

HUAH, PART 2 IS HERE!!

I asked you guys to give me pairings, and you delivered!! Here are the fusions?? Fankids?? Whatever you want to call them!!

Funnygummy - Chewi

First up is Funnygummy!! You guys get a wildberry flavoured gator with a taste for adventure!! Meet Chewi!! Their sense of humour will always be a little bit outdated, but they’re so endearing that it’s difficult to be too deterred by it. They don’t think very much, always diving head-first into whatever adventure calls to their heart… sometimes it’s becoming the new Robin Hood, other times it’s sneaking a snack from someone’s prized stash.

Much like Pomni, Chewi is clumsy and a bit cringey, but they also share Pomni’s wonderful inquisitive and determined nature. Chewi is much like Gummigoo in a lot of aspects, namely their free spirit, consideration for the others around them and their Aussie fashion sense - even if Chewi gets their friends in a tangle, it’s never without an apology and a firm hug.

Funnygummy was suggested by my wonderful friend @313i !!

Caine + Bubble - Spittle

I genuinely have no idea what to make of this duo… regardless of how you perceive them, here is their terrible fusion!! They’re the worst of both worlds, they’re a wretched one, it’s… Spittle!! They know that being the ringmaster is a big deal, so they make the best possible use of their abilities and come up with scenarios that should NEVER cross anyone’s mind… They are intimidating, unpredictable and nonsensical.

When experiencing the extreme end of any emotion, Spittle tends to… spit! Flying around in a rambling fury… light showers… best to keep a wet floor sign front and centre at all times. Just in case. Spittle sees other virtual beings more like toys instead of companions, so you’d better hope that they feel like playing “beach party” rather than “mass extinction event”.

The Caine + Bubble fusion was suggested by @invisiblegenzer AND @bunnydollshipper3000 !!

Bunnydoll - Bonnie

For all the bunnydoll fans out there, you have the pleasure of meeting Bonnie!! She’s the sweetest plush rabbit, held together by wobbly stitches, mismatched patches and the occasional self deprecating joke. Bonnie is the anxious type, but she tends to feel the fear and do it anyway - even if it’s the worst possible decision one could possibly make!

Bonnie inherits Ragatha’s selfless nature and friendliness, making a very caring companion to those on her good side! However, she also shares Jax’s habit of dismissing just about everything - pretending it never happened. She does so in an attempt to spare the feelings of others rather than to save her own pride, but she kindles a spark of suspicion and concern wherever she goes. AND! Even though her kindness stretches for miles, her temper is scarcely longer than a… er, toothpick.

Chatterbox - Gnash

I’d never even heard of this pairing until people started mentioning it in the comments!! One of the more eccentric fusions/fankids, meet Gnash! They have a real knack for stunts and tricks, a passion for evading danger! Unfortunately, as cool as they think the opportunities of near-death experiences are, no one else seems to agree. Nor appreciate their talent!

Gnash shares a lot of traits with Caine, such as difficulty with social cues and reading emotions, understanding the needs of others and adapting to things they dislike. However, they also have a lot in common with Zooble. Despite being bad at reading the room and picking up on the feelings of others, Gnash really does try to find advice and time to address the concerns of other circus inhabitants. They also love to mix and match the most vibrant Zooble Parts for a real flashy “showman” look!

This combination was suggested by @blackaerin !

🎪 Thank you for reading!! 🥁

⭐️ NOTE - Most of these characters (with the exception of Bonnie) have no specific pronouns, so you can refer to them however you like!

⬇️ Do you have a pairing you’d like to submit to the suggestion box?? Please click the link below and leave a comment! ⬇️

⬇️ Part 1 can be viewed here! ⬇️

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part xxiv

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader; past carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers, tbd

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v, part vi, part vii. part viii, part ix, part x, part xi, part xii, part xiii, part xiv, part xv, part xvi, part xvii, part xviii, part xix, part xx, part xxi, part xxii, part xxiii

bonus: one, two, three, four, five, six

2d week of September, 2025

3d week of September, 2025

[Excerpt: Transcript Reuters article]

Lando Norris was the first to reach the chequered flag this Sunday in Baku, Azerbaijan in the Formula 1 GP race. It was an important victory for the British driver of McLaren, which will rebrand as McLaren Mastercard as of next year. The Baku track was won by his teammate and biggest title rival last year, so taking back the trophy is an impactful illustration of the way momentum keeps swinging between the two drivers.

As he was also the lead driver during all free practices, started on pole, and led the race throughout, Norris achieved a rare Formula One feat as well: A Grand Slam. Very few drivers have managed to do so, particularly in recent years as the performance gaps between cars have gone down.

Aside from his team, Norris also joined in the celebrations by his parents and some of his friends. This includes Y/N L/N, who is a multiple Grand Slam winner herself, although those titles belong to tennis - not racing. When asked if their presence made his victory even more memorable, Norris smiled and stated that "it's always extra special when I win in front of family. They're who I want to make proud most of all, aside from the team."

4th week of September, 2025

1st week of October, 2025

[Excerpt: Transcript of "Not Gonna Lie with Kylie Kelce" | Ep. 41 featuring Y/N L/N]

Y/N: “Not Gonna Lie, I do have a hitlist. A tennis hit list, to be clear. Just wanna clarify, I’m not homicidal. I just keep track of how my previous matches have gone, and what to watch out for when I face the same player again – which hits work.”

Kylie: "I think this side of sports, particularly professional sports, that is hardly ever mentioned. But there's so much strategy involved, everyone has a team around them - whether it's individual or team sports - that helps you figure out exactly what to do to maximize your potential. But I was never the one to make them myself. Do you write down yours?"

Y/N: "Sometimes. I mean there's stuff only I will know or feel out on court, but there's also observations from my coach of course. It's definitely made me very analytical, when I absolutely despise lists and am pretty chaotic I think in real life away from the court."

Kylie: "Are you really?"

Y/N: "Yeah. I do tend to want to be in control, except that manifests in me choosing not to want too much structure on days off."

Kylie: "I feel like that's quite a common trait amongst athletes. And it either means you'll get on well or clash enormously. You’ve been very outspoken about athletes not dating other athletes. Obviously I am an example of how it can work out, but I also really understand your hang-ups with it.”

Y/N: “Yeah, honestly, I think that I’ve changed my mind about it a little bit. Not just because I’m on your show and talking to you, I promise. But it’s also just that it comes down to how competitiveness and ego bleeds into a relationship. Not every person’s the same. As long as that’s not part of the equation, love who you love.”

Kylie: “Are you currently dating at all?”

Y/N: “I uh, yeah, I am dating actually. And super happy about it.”   

Kylie: “Would you say you’re in love?”

Y/N: “You know I’m really careful with that. I’ve thought I was in love before, and then looking back that’s not what it was. Love shouldn’t hurt you, after all.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘∘•···············•∘

A/N: a final little cliffhanger for ya!!

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012 @sadiemack9 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @its-elias-world @sarah-thatstings-ann @jessicanotta @fairyjinn @destinyg237 @verogonewild @annimausi @taetae-armyyyyy @jkoooooooookie @coral7161 @chezmardybum @guacala @m4rt10ne @gigigreens @that-dress @jeikeeei @joesnumerouno

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

FEATURING: chrollo lucilfer

SUMMARY: it's been two years since you last had a proper conversation with chrollo; seven since the last time the two of you could be considered friends. you don't care to be close to him anymore—or at least, that's what you try to convince yourself, but you don't know how much longer your conviction will hold.

(wordcount: 10.6k, fem!reader, phantom troupe member!reader, angst with happy-ish ending, i took advantage of some things that were left blank (particularly kortopi LOL) for The Plot, reader's pov is a bit hypocritical/contrarian at times but that's intentional, hisoka being hisoka, a bit of a steamy make out sesh)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys ......... be gentle with me it's baby's first steps outside of bsd fandom KADFHAUISHFASUDIFHA ok no i actually had so much fun writing this fic HAHAH it gave me a rlly fun opportunity to dive into a new type of reader. i've always been interested in exploring the trope of like one person feeling left behind as everyone else arounds them changes for the worst, and that person struggling to accept what's happening. this fic gave me the perfect opportunity for it, because we have reader who is watching all of her childhood friends change in such awful ways, and even though she KNEW this was the path they were going down, it's different seeing it. we see how she struggles with trying to figure out if it's them and their actions that have her so upset, or if it's just the fact that she hasn't changed along with them. BUT IT WAS FUN, because i don't often write readers who struggle with morality/understanding their own actions, so this was a fun opportunity for me. ALSOOOOOO i thought it was so fun exploring her and chrollo. i think chrollo's dynamics are SO different depending on when he meets his partner and it was fun exploring that. like this is one avenue where they grow up together and have a deep history & shared past/trauma in meteor city, and conversely, if you've been following my blog, im exploring a relationship dynamic with a reader he meets much later in life (succession contest arc) which is much more . difficult LOL. and i decided to have some fun with kortopi bc 1) we know very little about him / his past and 2) .... the DRAMA AND TRAGEDY knowing what happens after the hisoka-chrollo fight HEHEHEH BUT EITHER WAY there was a lot i got to explore in this and i was very happy with it. AND A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY BELOVED RILEY WAHHHHHHHHH SHE READ OVER THIS FOR ME WHEN I WAS MELTING DOWN ABOUT MY CHROLLO CHARACTERIZATION AND THE PLOT I LOVE U SO DEEPLY RILEY

Chrollo is no longer as he once was.

Your gaze lingers on him as he flips through a book a few feet away from you. The others left for their mission, and you’re going to be left alone with him until they get back. You don’t often see him anymore, careful to keep away unless he specifically asks you to show up for a mission, but every time you do, it always ends the same—with you upset and lost, unsure of what you’re doing and what’s become of the people you loved. 

You’ve known he’s been gone for a very long time, but still, when the two of you are alone, you can’t help yourself from looking for the boy you once knew. The one who would bring fresh flowers to the graves at the church, and translated movies for the other children in Meteor City, performing them himself when they no longer could watch them. You think you get glimpses of him when he doesn’t think anyone is around. When the others have all left for missions, and he thinks he’s alone in base, but he’s always quick to school his expression when he realizes that you stayed back. 

You’ve known Chrollo Lucilfer for as long as you can remember. One of your first clear memories is of him helping you to your feet after you were tripped by one of the rowdy boys at church. Your knees were bleeding, and you were desperately trying not to cry—you only had one dress that was suitable for church, and it was ripped and bloody, totally ruined. You would never be able to wear it again, and the matron had explicitly told you to take good care of it or she would never let you have first pick from the clothes recovered at the dumping grounds ever again.

Chrollo had made it all right. He did that a lot back then. He helped people. He went out of his way to make sure everyone around him was okay. He had no idea who you were, but he took you to the back of the church anyway and spent three hours helping you wash out the blood from your dress and hand-sewing the rips to make it all good as new. You didn’t talk much and were nervous being around a boy you had never met, but Chrollo was quick to fill the silence, telling you about how he had learned to stitch up his clothes and wash out dirt and grime because he was constantly at odds with other kids in the junkyard city and had no way of getting any others if these were to be ruined.

Bandages were both a commodity and a necessity in Meteor City; those who got injured were prone to infection and death if open wounds came into contact with the many toxins and bacteria found in the dumping grounds. Still, he gave you the last of his and smiled at you, telling you not to worry about it because he was sure he’d find others, and you needed it more than he did in that moment. 

It was just who he was. Kind. Giving. Bright. He had given you hope back then. Father Lisores had said it too: he believed that Chrollo could bring a better world to Meteor City because he was so full of light and kindness and spirit. That was why you turned a blind eye to his plans after Sarasa’s death, even when Sheila begged you to come with her and told you that Chrollo and the others were turning into the people that you all hated so much. It was why you followed him when he created the Phantom Troupe, even if you were unsure of its direction and what Chrollo was becoming.

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly when your staring becomes too obvious. 

He doesn’t lift his gaze from his book, but you can tell he’s stopped reading because his eyes are no longer flitting from line to line. This isn’t the first time he’s tried to talk to you in the past few years. Usually, you’ll pretend you didn’t hear him, and he won’t press again, taking your silence as the rejection that it was, but this time, you find yourself hesitating.

“Do you remember how we first met?” you question, tracing patterns with your shoe against the dusty floors of the abandoned building the Troupe has claimed as a base for its most recent mission. You notice the way his eyes widen slightly when he realizes you’ve decided to answer him this time, but he’s quick to hide it.

“Of course,” he murmurs. He flips to the next page of his book even though you know very well he hasn’t read the last. You almost roll your eyes, but refrain. “One of the most defining moments of my life.”

You let out a sharp puff of air that’s too scornful to be considered a laugh, turning your head away. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m not,” he replies so seriously that it makes your throat swell. You can’t bear to lift your gaze to look at him, so you keep it trained on the ground instead. “Our first meeting changed a lot for me.”

“I think about it a lot,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “When we were kids. Everything was so…. different.”

You want to say easier, but the word doesn’t feel right on your tongue. There was nothing easy about growing up in Meteor City, even compared to what your life has become. Death was too imminent a threat when you were far too young, and you became well acquainted with loss and mourning before the first smile ever reached your lips. 

It was not easier, but it was different.

“You were so scared back then,” he muses, and your gaze flickers up to see the faint smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “You latched onto me after we met. Hid behind me when the other kids would badger you for the trinkets you collected. Made me shoo them all away for you.”

You find yourself snorting despite yourself, and you lift your hand to your lips to hide your smile. “I did not latch onto you. And I was not scared.”

You did and were. You remember it vividly. You hated confrontation with the other kids, and Chrollo was quick to try to protect the people around him, even at the cost of himself, so you hung around him in hopes of him intervening when they came to try to get you to give up the things you collected from the junkyard. You’re sure that he knew what you were doing, but he still stepped in on your behalf every time. Even if it usually ended with him being pummeled by someone bigger and stronger than him—at least until Sheila and Sarasa started stepping in.

“You definitely did,” he disagrees. “In fact, you clung to the back of my shirt so much that you ripped holes in it.”

“Liar,” you accuse, but you’re smiling.

“Not at all,” he says, and his eyes are glittering in a way that’s achingly familiar as he finally looks up at you. His expression is soft, and his lips are curved up, but he looks so sad that it makes your chest hurt. “Do you remember how you would sneak into my room at the orphanage?”

“The matrons would get so mad at me,” you agree. 

You never liked sleeping alone—not back then, and not now. You’re distant with Chrollo now, but Pakunoda often shares a room with you because she knows about your frequent night terrors and anxiety being alone, and when she can’t, Machi or Kortopi will. They all know how you feel about being alone, so they’re careful to make sure that you’re not. Although they don’t like anyone pointing that out because they hate being seen as soft, even by their friends, so they’ll often mask their decision with a complaint about how the others are being annoying, so they’re going to relax with you instead.

“I had to smooth-talk you out of trouble every time,” he adds. “Otherwise, you would’ve been stuck scrubbing the floors for weeks.”

“I felt safe with you,” you say quietly after a moment of silence. Chrollo pauses at your words, lips pressing together as he looks back down at his book. “You were so bright, Chrollo. Everyone gravitated toward you.”

He doesn’t respond for a while. You don’t really expect him to. A strange expression crosses his face as he stares at the pages he isn’t reading, and you let out a soft breath as you look to the side, out the open window to the night sky. The others are all out completing their assigned mission—a grand heist against one of the elder Kakin princes that will certainly end in mass death and tragedy. You try not to think about it. Your role isn’t involved with carrying out Chrollo’s schemes; you only stick around for the aftermath to make sure everyone is okay, and then you go back to Meteor City with Kortopi until Chrollo calls you back to him for another mission. 

Sometimes it’s hard to push out of mind that the more you save your friends, the more you condemn others.

How much blood is on your hands? How many lives could’ve been saved if you prioritized the greater good instead of the people you can’t stop chasing? Every time you pull one of your friends from the edge, you drag countless others to it. 

“You don’t anymore?” he asks, an odd tone to his voice as he pointedly keeps his gaze averted from you.

“Hm?” you hum with a frown, glancing back over to him. 

“You don’t feel safe with me anymore?” he elaborates, gaze shifting back up to you. You can’t hold his gaze for long; you haven’t been able to in years, and you hate how his expression drops when he realizes that. His lips part like he wants to say something, but then he presses them together again like he’s decided against it.

“I don’t feel unsafe with you,” you answer, and when he’s visibly displeased by your response, you sigh and admit, “I hardly know who you are anymore, Chrollo.”

Chrollo doesn’t answer, but he does frown and turn his head to the side. His lips curve down into a frown, and that unreadable look in his eyes returns. For a second, you can almost imagine that the two of you are back in Meteor City, back when you were young, after Sarasa’s death. He disappeared in the days between finding her body and the funeral, but you found him after hours of searching on the far side of the city, sitting by himself as he stared off into the distance. He had that same look in his eyes then as he does now; you wonder what he’s thinking about.

You’re about to say something else to break the silence when the door to the makeshift base crashes open and draws your attention away. Uvogin bursts into the room, expression twisted and breathing heavily. You rise to your feet, gaze trained on him as you wait for him to speak. Uvogin looks between you and Chrollo briefly before he focuses on you.

“We need you on the field. Kortopi got injured; Machi is using her threads to keep him stable, but they keep unwinding because of whatever ability is affecting him. She can’t keep it up for much longer.”

You glance back at Chrollo, whose brows furrow at Uvogin’s words, but he frowns and says, “Go.”

---------

Kortopi is the youngest member of the Phantom Troupe. He’s not a founding member, only because he was six at the time of its founding, but he’s hung around you all for as long as you can remember. When he was three, his older sister would take him to the shows that the Troupe put on for the children of Meteor City, and when she was killed by infection after being wounded by a stray dog less than a year later, it was you who took him under your wing. You were only twelve yourself, but you promised his sister that you would protect him, and you were adamant on keeping that promise no matter the cost.

For years, he watched the Phantom Troupe from the sidelines, and you realized that you had your job cut out for you. He idolized Chrollo; you can’t really blame him for that, everyone idolized Chrollo, but he spent all of his time desperately trying to master nen so that he could convince Chrollo to let him become a spider. You were against it from the beginning. That was back when you and Chrollo were still close, so you had no issue arguing with him when he told Kortopi that once he mastered a nen ability, he would have a spot with them. He dismissed you every time you tried to bring it up, and he told you that you were being too stubborn and this was the best course of action, and it led to the two of you being on frigid, but not quite hostile terms. 

Kortopi was fifteen when Chrollo finally deemed his mastery enough to join, and you were livid over it. Chrollo dismissed you yet again when you raised your concerns, and he reminded you that you, he, Pakunoda, and Machi were all younger when you joined the Troupe. But it was different, you insisted, Kortopi’s sister had been someone you cared deeply about, and she begged you to protect Kortopi for her when she was on her deathbed. Not only that, but Chrollo promised to help you. You’ve raised him since he was four years old—you didn’t want this life for him, you don’t even want it for yourself. 

It was your first major argument with him, and it was the first rift that led to the ruin of your friendship. The day Chrollo let Kortopi into the Phantom Troupe was the day you realized he’d changed beyond recognition, and it was the day you stopped clinging to your past with him.

“He’ll be okay?” Uvogin asks gruffly, kneeling behind you. 

The rest of the members assigned to this mission are sitting around you, waiting to hear that everything is fine. Or, most of them were—Uvogin, Machi, Nobunaga, and Pakunoda were with you. The other most recent addition to the Troupe is nowhere to be found, naturally. Unease claws at your chest. Chrollo’s decision to let Hisoka Morow into the Phantom Troupe was another that you were very displeased with, but because the two of you have hardly talked in the past two years, you didn’t say anything.

Not that it would matter. Chrollo doesn’t care to take your opinion into account. He made that very much clear when he dismissed you and allowed Kortopi into the Troupe.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, smoothing out the boy’s messy hair. He’s still so young—only seventeen—but he looks even younger with his breath so shallow and his eyes slid shut. Resentment towards Chrollo bubbles in your chest again, but you push it away as you shut your eyes and shake your head. Now isn’t the time for that. “Could you carry him back to base, Uvo?”

“Yup,” the man agrees, shifting closer to you to scoop the small boy up into his arms. His brows furrow in concern as he looks down at you. “You alright getting back?”

“I’ll walk with her,” Pakunoda offers, and Uvogin nods before taking off with Nobunaga. Machi hesitates, casting you a long look before she follows after the two of them. “Are you okay?”

“I told him this would happen,” you say tightly. You don’t need to say who the ‘him’ is—Pakunoda knows better than anyone. She’s been caught between the two of you since the day the tension began seven years ago. “I told him, Paku. If I had been a second later, Machi’s nen would’ve been exhausted and Kortopi would’ve bled out.”

“I know,” Pakunoda replies quietly as you two make your way down the street back in the direction of base. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“How did it happen?” you ask sharply, gaze cutting to the side to look at her. For a second, you feel so angry that it makes you sick because it shouldn’t have happened. Pakunoda instantly gives you a concerned look, making you realize that your rage is seeping into your aura. Instantly, you push it away and clear your throat. “It was a simple mission. You and Kortopi go in for the information and the artifacts while the others pose as other attendees to keep an eye on the two of you in case things go wrong. Except it wasn’t supposed to go wrong. How did it go wrong?”

Pakunoda pauses and then says honestly, “I’m not sure. It was very sudden; everything was fine one moment, and then all hell broke loose. The only reason I wasn’t hit alongside Kortopi was that I reacted faster.”

Your expression twists immediately. “The clown?” you ask, voice low.

“No,” Pakunoda disagrees, shaking her head. When you give her a suspicious look, she continues, “Hisoka seemed just as caught off guard as the rest of us. I think it was the nen ability of the Second Prince or one of her subordinates. They didn’t seem to recognize us, but when it came closer to the time of the heist, it was like they were able to sense when our intentions became more hostile.”

“I don’t like it,” is all you say in response. “We need to make sure all of the cameras around that building are wiped. The last thing we need is one of the Kakin Princes coming down on Meteor City in retaliation for our actions here.”

“That’s if they figure out we’re from there,” Pakunoda replies, but there’s an uncomfortable expression on her face like she knew the risk was there, but didn’t expect it to actually become a possibility.

“Once they figure out there are no official records of our existence, it’ll be quite easy for them to realize where we must come from,” you say dryly, shaking your head. “I don’t know what he’s thinking, Paku. He must realize that operations like this put the city more at risk than anything else. There’s only so long fear tactics will work in preventing intervention. Eventually, they’re going to decide the risks outweigh the benefits of making a statement against us by targeting the city.”

“Then the city will strike back,” Pakunoda replies. “You know the law of retribution. They’re not defenseless. They’ve handled things this way long before we started doing what we’re doing.”

You rub your face in frustration. “The elders retaliate. They deter people from wronging the city by making sure it doesn’t go without consequence. We aren’t retaliating, Paku. We’re instigating. And we’re instigating powerful people, not some knock-off mafia. We’re talking about the Kakin Military and the princes’ personal armies. The elders can retaliate against mafias stealing our kids and other cities for wrongful persecution, but what the hell do you expect them to do when another nation’s military comes down on them?”

Pakunoda says your name with a sigh. This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to have this conversation with one of them, and it always goes the same every time. They’ve changed in the same way Chrollo has, and you don’t know why you haven’t yet, but Pakunoda at least will hear you out. So she’s unfortunately stuck listening to you vent out your frustrations.

“I’m serious,” you continue, stopping in your tracks and folding your arms over your chest. “How far have we deviated from our original goals, Paku? What we’re doing—it’s mindless killing, mindless thieving. This isn’t preventing what happened to Sarasa from ever happening again; we’ve become worse than the people we united against, and we’re not even protecting Meteor City anymore. Do you really think that people are so scared of us that they won’t ever step foot in the city? Because that’s not how the world works, Paku. I know you know that, and I don’t know why we’re all pretending otherwise. Even if they’re scared of us, and they can’t track us down and kill us, they will go to the defenseless and send us a message through them eventually. What we’re doing is not only delaying the inevitable, but each mission of ours is making the inevitable retaliation exponentially worse.”

Pakunoda doesn’t like it when Sarasa is brought up. Her breath gets all shaky, and her voice gets wobbly, so you immediately regret it when you see how the woman cringes and looks away. You immediately avert your gaze to the ground, guilty. 

“What do you want me to say?” she asks you quietly.

“I don’t know.” Your voice breaks over the words, and you squeeze your eyes shut to fight the tears. Pakunoda squeezes your forearm gently. “I don’t like what we’ve become, Paku. And I know that Chrollo said this was the direction we would be taking from the beginning, but—I just—it’s just different knowing versus it actually happening. No matter what he could’ve said back then, I never would’ve expected this is where we would be eleven years later.”

The two of you continue down in the direction of your temporary base in silence. You had a bad feeling the moment Chrollo messaged you to tell you there was another mission you were needed for, and even though you know Kortopi is going to be okay, you can’t help but fear for the day he won’t be. That all of them won’t be. Because that’s what has become inevitable now—the only thing left guaranteed is death. For the residents of Meteor City, it has always been a risk that has weighed more heavily than most, but because of who you guys are and what you all have done, it’s going to come sooner rather than later. It’s only a matter of time before you can’t save them… or yourself. 

“It’s not easy on him either, you know?” Pakunoda says softly, and you exhale sharply, looking away. “Don’t be like that. You, of all people, should understand.”

You don’t understand.

That’s what you want to say, at least.

But every time you close your eyes, all you can see is the haunted expression on his face as he looked into the sack that contained Sarasa’s body. The burden he decided to carry on his own when he read whatever was on that note and refused to share it with anyone else, because whatever it said was too horrific for him to bear letting anyone else know. The lack of light in his eyes when he declared to the rest of you what he would do after three years’ time had passed. 

You don’t want to understand.

You can’t let yourself believe that the boy he used to be still exists somewhere deep inside of him. Not because you don’t desperately wish to have that boy back, but because the memory of him is too tainted, stained in the blood he’s spilt since casting aside his old self. That sweet boy couldn’t possibly still be here with you. You can’t imagine that the boy who taught you how to read and spent hours scouring the junkyard for the last swan you needed for your collection of bird figures is the very same man who shamelessly broke his promise to you when he allowed Kortopi to join the Troupe, even as you begged him not to. That the same hands that patched up your knees when you fell and stroked your hair when you struggled to fall asleep had butchered women and children for the sake of rare eyes.

 It can’t be—he can’t be. 

“He misses you a lot,” Pakunoda continues. You want to scream at her to shut up, but your throat is too clogged. You hate this. You hate this. “Whenever he calls meetings that aren’t mandatory, he always waits for you, even though he knows you’re not going to come. He hides it well, but he’s disappointed every time.”

“Stop, Paku,” you finally force out. “That’s enough.”

She adds, “You should talk to him. Kortopi feels guilty, too, you know? He feels like it’s his fault you guys don’t talk anymore.”

“Stop, Paku,” you repeat.

Pakunoda sighs, but she doesn’t push anymore. 

She’s wrong, you tell yourself. You’ll stay long enough for the debrief in the morning, and then you’re gone again. Back to Meteor City to help the people whom you swore to help all of those years ago. Chrollo will be far from mind.

---------

The base is eerily quiet when you get back. You didn’t go in with Pakunoda right away; you decided to sit on the bench outside the building until nightfall. You didn’t want to risk running into Chrollo, and you figured that by now, he would have headed to the room he claimed. 

Uvogin and Nobunaga were passed out drunk in the front lobby when you came in, and Machi was napping at Kortopi’s bedside, checking up on him when the exhaustion of using her nen so much finally caught up to her. Pakunoda was reading a book in the lobby area, keeping an eye on who comes and goes. She gave you a long look when you first entered the building, but you pointedly ignored it.

Now, you’re going up to claim a room of your own. Chrollo, at least, had enough sense to pick a building that used to be a hotel, so there were countless rooms, even if most of them were rather dilapidated. You think maybe you’ll go to the top floor; the walk up the stairs will give you some time to think and—

“Oh, hey,” an unfortunately familiar voice says from behind you. “We haven’t had the chance to talk yet.”

You stiffen immediately, glancing over your shoulder to where the red-headed jester called Hisoka is leaning against the wall, flicking one of his cards around. His lips are curled up into an unreadable smile as he eyes you, and it makes your skin crawl. You don’t know what was going through Chrollo’s head when he decided to let the man into the Troupe; everything about him rubs you the wrong way. You know you’re not the only one, too—Feitan and Franklin don’t like him either, and though Pakunoda won’t say it out loud, you know she’s wary of the Troupe’s newest member.

“Yeah,” you agree, voice cool. “That was intentional, clown.”

Hisoka’s eyes widen at your words, a giggle escaping his lips. “Oh my, the kitten has claws,” he coos, taking a step closer to you. “From the way everyone spoke about you, I figured you were as docile as a lamb.”

He reaches out to tug at a stray strand of your hair, and you instinctively move to shift away, but freeze when a cold, heavy energy slithers across the back of your neck and rests over your shoulders. “Now, now, I only want to talk.”

Is this… his Ren?

You can’t move. Your legs are tense like you want to run, but your feet are rooted to the ground. Your throat is so tight that you can’t even push a noise from your lips, much less a call for one of the others. You’ve felt plenty of people's Ren before, but never like this. Most people’s aura bursts outward in an unshaped rush of strength, heavy and hot, a show of force that’s easy enough to brace against. Hisoka’s slides over your skin, cold and insidious, curling around your body like smoke as it chokes you; his bloodlust made tangible, he’s letting you know, with perfect control, just how easily he could kill you if he wanted. 

“How cute,” he teases, and then his Ren disappears like it was never there at all.

You instantly dart away from him, breath ragged and gaze accusing as you lift your hand to your rapidly beating heart. With some space between the two of you, you hiss, “You—”

“Relax,” he drawls, tilting his head to the side as he smiles at you lazily. “I was only teasing. I’ve been excited to meet you, you see. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s… ominous, you think, too rattled to have any other coherent thought. You doubt that the others have told Hisoka much about you, so he’s probably been lurking around eavesdropping, which means you have no idea what he might’ve heard or gathered from them. 

You don’t reply to him, but he’s studying you carefully like he’s trying to figure something out. You want to leave, but your body just isn’t cooperating with you, still thrown off by his oppressive Ren. After what feels like an eternity, he lets out an airy sigh, eyes sliding shut as he tilts his head back.

“Never mind,” he sings, waving his hand flippantly and turning to leave. “It would be too… boring to do it this way. I’ll just go about it the hard way.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you demand, unnerved, but Hisoka doesn’t respond, disappearing around the corner. You breathe out to yourself, “What the fuck just happened?”

You lean back against the wall, trying to get some control over your heart, but no matter how hard you try, your fingers won’t stop trembling. What was that? What did he mean by ‘go about it the hard way’? What just happened?

You’re not sure, but you have a feeling it’s bad news.

-----

You find yourself standing outside the room that Chrollo claimed for himself. You don’t even really remember how you got here; once you finally got yourself moving after that encounter with Hisoka, your feet brought you here on their own. 

After all these years, it’s still Chrollo you seek out in your times of distress.

You sigh, head hanging forward just a bit before you push open the door to his room. Your breath catches when you see him lounging back in his bed, reading a book. He’s wearing a loose, long-sleeved white shirt, the laces in the front are mostly undone, and his hair is hanging around his face, free from the slickback he usually styles it in. He looks so at ease that it makes your heart ache.

“What is it?” he asks coolly before he even looks up, probably expecting Pakunoda or Machi. “I—”

His gaze flickers up, and his expression immediately shifts. His lips part, and his eyes widen ever so slightly. He shuts his book quickly and pushes himself up into a sitting position, gaze roving over you like he doesn’t even fully believe that you’re there.

“Oh,” he says, voice soft like he’s worried that if he’s too loud or sudden, it might scare you away. Something in his face changes when you don’t respond right away, his brows knit together, and his lips flatten. He senses something is wrong instantly—he still knows you better than anyone after so much time apart. He rises to his feet and makes his way over to you, voice more serious as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

He lifts his hand as if to cup the side of your face, but he hesitates just before he touches you, like he isn’t sure if he should. You let your eyes slide shut as you close the distance, leaning into his palm and letting out a shaky breath. 

Immediately, he lifts his other hand to hold your face gently between his palms, brushing his fingers across your cheekbones as his eyes trace over you, trying to figure out what you aren’t saying. His touch is so familiar, so warm, it’s hard to remember all of the things you were convincing yourself of earlier when the hands that cradle you feel the same as the ones that once patched up your injuries and stroked your hair to help you fall asleep.

He touches you with bloodstained hands, you remind yourself. Women, children—how many people have suffered under the same hands that hold you so carefully?

“Tell me what happened,” he says, voice firm, gray eyes sharp as he waits for you to answer him.

When you don’t again, he sighs and steps closer, his hand sliding from the side of your face to the back of your head as he pulls you into him. You take in a sharp, wet breath when he holds you in his arms, ear pressed to his chest. His heart beats steadily, thrumming in your ear, the same rhythm you were so intimately acquainted with years ago.

“I don’t know what happened,” you finally answer as you sink into his arms, drowning in the familiar beat of his heart. “I don’t…”

“Did something happen on the way back?” he asks you, and you let out a shaky breath as he traces patterns on your back. “While you were sitting outside?”

Of course, he knew you were out there, you think. You wonder if he picked one of the rooms looking over the front of the building specifically so he could keep an eye on you while you were sitting out by the old, dry fountain. You open your eyes and focus on the window seat on the far side of the room, where the cushions are shifted around as if someone had recently been sitting there.

“No,” you say after a moment. “It was in here. Hisoka—he…”

You trail off, unsure how to describe what took place between the two of you, but just having the name is clearly enough for Chrollo, who stiffens. Something dark crosses his expression, and in an instant, you’re reminded of the fact that he has changed, but he doesn’t give you much time to linger on the thought when he asks, voice low, “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” you say again, shaking your head. “It was just—”

You grimace, hand flying to your abdomen as ghost pains shoot through your body. Chrollo immediately steadies you, brows furrowing as he looks down at where you’re holding, as if searching for a wound that you don’t have.

“It’s just the after effects,” you tell him before he can get the wrong idea. “From healing Kortopi.”

Chrollo frowns, but he leads you over to the bed so that you can lay down. You think that you should leave; you didn’t even intend on coming here, you were planning on just finding a bed to ride out the worst of the pain and then disappearing after the debrief in the morning. You don’t want to reconcile with Chrollo; you’re fine with how things are. You’re fine with the distance between the two of you. You’re fine being alone. He’s not who he once was, and you want nothing to do with who he has become.

Still, you put up no resistance when he lays you down on the mattress and fluffs the pillow behind your head so that you can rest comfortably. You don’t pull your hand back when he sits on the bed next to you and entwines his fingers with yours over your stomach. You can’t bring yourself to look away when his gaze meets yours. His eyes are too dark, too unreadable; there’s not even a hint of the light that once used to fill them.

“What happened with Hisoka?” he finally presses, breaking the silence that had drawn on for too long between you two. He lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face, but this time you do turn your face away, if only slightly. Chrollo pauses, hand freezing midair, and then he lets it drop back down to his lap.

“Nothing,” you say quietly. “It was just weird. Everything is with him, though.”

Chrollo doesn’t look convinced, but you turn your face to the side, looking away from him to the peeling wallpaper on the far side of the room. You don’t know what you’re doing here; you don’t know why you stepped into his room. You should’ve just went on your way and found yourself a room like you were planning to; you don’t like being around the others when you’re facing the consequences of using your nen ability, even if it does mean spending the night alone. They worry about you too much; whenever they’re reminded of the fact that you take on the pain meant for them, they become averse to letting you heal them.

“Is there another room on this floor?” you ask him, hating how hoarse your voice sounds.

“You don’t have to do that,” he frowns. “You can stay here.”

You look at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his lips press together tightly and his throat bobs. For a second, he almost looks hurt, but then his face smooths out again as he forces his lips up into a small smile.

“Right,” he agrees softly, pulling his other hand back from where it had been holding yours. There shouldn’t be a pit in your stomach over it. This is what you want—distance. You and Chrollo Lucilfer are better off strangers than anything else. You’re not friends anymore, and you’re certainly not… “I can find a different room. Stay here and rest.”

You sigh. “Chrollo.”

“It’ll be a few hours before it passes, right?” he presses. He’s concerned, you can see it in his eyes. For a second, they’re familiar again—the same ones that would hover over you when you got yourself hurt searching for trinkets in the junkyard. “You shouldn’t move around too much. I can find a different room.”

“Stop,” you say, shaking your head. “I can move to another room, Chrollo. It’s fine, it’s hardly begun yet; it’ll just be periodic waves for the next hour until it really hits—you know that. I just—”

“Stay.” You can tell he’s aiming for it to come out as an order, but it lands more desperate than he would like. He immediately averts his gaze and then repeats more quietly, “Just stay.”

You pause and then tell him, “On one condition—I want you to answer something for me.”

Chrollo exhales, eyes unsure and shoulders tense for a second too long before he finally nods, signaling for you to ask your question.

“Why?” you breathe out, and before he can press, you continue, “What are we doing, Chrollo? Don’t give me that whole becoming villains for the rest of the world to fear spiel, because you and I both know you’re full of shit. We’re not protecting Meteor City by doing all of this, so why? Tell me why.”

Chrollo looks away, expression eerily blank. He says coolly, “The kidnappings have all but stopped—”

You push yourself into a sitting position so suddenly that when a wave of pain hits you at the same time, it nearly blinds you, but you ignore it, hand darting out to grab Chrollo’s wrist. His gaze shifts back toward you, heavy and conflicted. There’s so much you want to say—seven years of rage, eleven of confusion. You feel like you were the only one trapped in time back then; you followed them because they were your friends, because you loved them, loved him, but you’re still stuck in the past. No matter how hard you race to catch up with them, you can’t. 

And you understood it back then. You did. You understood the anger over Sarasa, the desperation to make sure it never happened to another child from Meteor City. When Sheila begged you not to get wrapped up in this, you refused her because you agreed with them. Sarasa’s killers couldn’t go unpunished, and when Chrollo finally got his hands on them, you were right there in the background watching them get what they deserved. But at some point, things changed, it was no longer about protection or even revenge, and they all kept moving forward, while you were left behind. 

“The Second Prince and her followers are not innocents,” Chrollo tells you, voice cold, like he knows exactly where your thoughts are turning. “They—”

“I’m not talking about the Second Prince,” you interrupt loudly. “Although that’s a whole other can of worms, Chrollo. How long are these tactics going to prevent retaliation on Meteor City? You know better than anyone that they’re not sustainable, and eventually, the need for revenge will outweigh fear. We’re prime examples of it. But that’s besides the point. You know what I’m talking about. You know—”

“Would you like to leave?” he asks you quietly.

“What?” you ask him, voice stunted in surprise. When his question processes, you scoff bitterly, “Don’t act like that’s an option, Chrollo. The spider is branded on me, there’s no leaving.”

“I can help you get set up somewhere,” he continues, trying to keep his voice light and polite, but you can hear the hollowness in it. “Yorknew City? Or Swardani, maybe? Anywhere you want, I can make it happen. I know what we’re doing now isn’t what you anticipated agreeing to back then. You can leave, if you’d like.”

He means it. You can tell because it’s visibly paining him to offer you this. He’s trying to hide it, but the corners of his lips are tight and he’s purposely looked away from you so you can’t see his eyes. 

Should you accept it? A new life? Is that really what you want? You’ll never see them again, probably. Pakunoda and Kortopi will come visit you, but the rest? They’ll take your decision as a betrayal, and you suppose it would be one. And Chrollo would never come, because he knows it’s him specifically you would be trying to leave behind. 

Do you want to leave him behind? Or do you just want to understand so that you can finally catch up with the rest of them? You don’t even know what you’re angry about anymore—is it them changing, or is it you not changing along with them? Is it the atrocities they’ve committed that upset you, or is it the fact that you’ve been on the outside of your friendship with them for years? That you’ve been so lost, when they all seem to understand what’s going on? Both? Neither? You don’t know anymore, and it scares you. You’re so confused that you almost want to cry. You’ve never handled change well; you just want things to go back to how they once were. 

“I want you to answer my question,” you finally force yourself to say, rejecting the offer. If Chrollo is relieved, he’s careful not to show it, but he does finally look at you again. “Tell me why we’re doing all of this. Tell me why—”

… why I’m the only one who seems to care enough to want to know why. You don’t finish that one. You think maybe you might know the answer. It’s the same reason why Sheila left before things even began. It’s why she asked you to come with her—she somehow had seen how things would turn out, long before anyone else did, and she knew you would eventually be left behind in the same way she already felt she was. Their rage and thirst for vengeance has twisted them into something unrecognizable; they no longer see the difference between becoming ‘villains’ to protect Meteor City and burning down the world because they like watching it burn.

Maybe that’s just your answer then, you realize on your own, gaze lowering. Even Pakunoda said it before: what do you want me to say? Like she didn’t know how to answer your questions, not that she didn’t want to.

They don’t know—he doesn’t know.

There is no answer to your question, because he doesn’t understand anything either, and you’re sure that bothers him more than anyone else. No wonder he’s always been so evasive about it.

Chrollo seems to recognize that you’ve come to the answer yourself, letting out a heavy breath as he looks out the window to the night sky. His lips curve up into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Would you like to reconsider my offer, then?” 

“No,” you say with a wry smile. “How could I possibly go live a normal life after everything we’ve done, Chrollo?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly and then tells you, “You’ve hardly taken part in our missions.”

“We both know I’m not innocent. I’ve healed each of you countless times over the years,” you respond, shaking your head. You think maybe you’re worse than the rest of them—they’ve all accepted that they’re monsters, even if they don’t understand how they became that way. You’ve been trapped in the delusion that you’re somehow above them all, moralistic as if you’re not the primary facilitator of their atrocities. “Every life taken after is on my hands as much as theirs. There’s been more blood spilt that can be attributed to me than any one of you individually. You’ve condemned me alongside you, Chrollo. There’s no world where I can leave the Troupe and live a normal life. I’ll burn in the same hell that you and all of the others will.”

“I suppose I have,” he says softly. And then adds, “We were never destined for a normal life.”

“We didn’t have to be destined for this one.”

He doesn’t reply, though you didn’t really expect him to. You take the silence to press another burning question onto him. “I don’t care that I’m part of all of this, Chrollo. All I wanted was an answer. But how… how could you let Kortopi be dragged into it with us? After what you promised me?”

He sighs like he doesn’t want to have this conversation with you, and it reignites the rage in you. “Chrollo.”

“I thought I was keeping my promise to you,” he finally says, voice tight, but he still doesn’t look at you. “I thought it would be easier having him closer to us than constantly leaving him behind in Meteor City while we left for missions. I was—”

Wrong. He doesn’t finish saying it out loud though, eyes sliding shut as he lets out another heavy sigh. Your jaw tightens as you whisper, “I begged you. I begged you, Chrollo, and you dismissed me like I didn’t matter at all.”

“I know,” he replies, voice quiet like he’s ashamed to say it out loud. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You let out something caught between a scoff and shaky breath, shaking your head and looking away. You don’t say anything else. After what feels like an eternity, he rises to his feet and tells you, “I’ll go find a different room.”

Before you can think to stop yourself, you grab his hand to stop him from going. His skin is warm against yours, and your fingers slot between his as perfectly as they did years before the two of you became so distant. Chrollo pauses, gaze flickering down to your joined hands, lips parted but not saying anything.

“Stay,” you say quietly before you can talk yourself out of it.

Chrollo doesn’t respond for a moment, like he’s considering what to say. You didn’t anticipate that maybe he would reject you after everything, and you find yourself hesitating, gaze shifting to the side, but when you move to pull your hand back, his grip becomes firmer.

“Are you sure?” he finally asks you, which he really shouldn’t have, because you aren’t sure.

“No,” you say honestly. His expression doesn’t drop, but his lips do tighten, like he was bracing himself for this answer, but no amount of bracing can actually prepare him for rejection from you. “Stay anyway, though.”

He exhales heavily. He hesitates, and you don’t know if it’s for your sake or his. If he doesn’t want to take advantage of your momentary weakness when he knows you otherwise would be rejecting him, or if he wants to protect himself because he knows your emotions are fickle and fleeting, and the resentment you hold for him will eventually rear its ugly head again, leaving him wounded after he had allowed his guard to drop for you.

You’re unfair to him, you think to yourself. You’re all he’s ever wanted—he would wait years and years and years for you, he would subject himself to all of your rage and hatred, if it meant one day he could have you again. You know that. You always have. For a second, it’s not him standing there, but the boy who would track you down into the Uga Forest and scold you for hours for going there on your own with everything going on. Who would pretend he wasn’t almost on the verge of crying when his voice got all pitched as he told you that he was searching for hours and he was scared that the worst had happened. Who would instantly give in when you told him, ‘I just wanted to see the flowers,’ and made you promise to at least wait for him to come with you next time.

He’s unfair to you, you argue. He dragged you down this path with him; he condemned you alongside him. He’s made you an accessory to crimes so horrific that the devil himself would blanche at the sight of them.

You willingly went along with him. You willingly heal them. 

He knew you would follow him down any path. That you would never leave them when they needed you, regardless of what they’d done. 

“Okay,” he finally says, grip tightening on your hand before he sinks into the bed with you, laying on his side so that he can look at you.

Neither of you say anything for a bit, but for the first time in years, the silence isn’t awkward, both of you are comfortable basking in each other’s presence after so long apart. He lets go of your hand to slide his hand up your arm to rest on your face, cradling you so gently that your heart skips a beat.

“What have you been reading?” you ask him, glancing behind him to the book he placed on his nightstand, trying to pretend that your heart isn’t actively trying to claw its way out of your chest. 

“Hm?” he replies, so absorbed in studying your face that he doesn’t immediately process what you asked. When he does, he blinks and says, “Oh.”

He removes his hand from your face to reach behind him to grab the book, and you immediately regret asking the question because you miss the warmth of his touch as soon as it’s gone. He shows you the book, but the title is in a language that you can’t read, so you just raise your eyebrows at him.

“A history book on the Kakin Empire,” he explains.

You find yourself snorting despite yourself. “Wow, you haven’t—”

—changed a bit. You almost say it, but you cut yourself off before you can, smile dropping immediately. He seems to understand what you were about to say, because the amusement that had flickered in his eyes instantly dissipates. 

“It’s interesting,” he tells you. You think he’s trying to be playful, but the comment comes out more petulant than anything, like he’s offended by your reaction. “I like learning.”

“I know,” you say, smiling a little again. “You’re so lame.”

“I distinctly remember you being very appreciative over how lame I was when Father Lisores quizzed us on history and you couldn’t answer any question so I had to save us from chores,” he mutters, putting the book back on his nightstand, but you can hear the smile in his voice, even as he side eyes you.

“Yes, my savior with boundless knowledge of the most useless facts known to mankind,” you reply dryly. 

Chrollo doesn’t immediately quip back or turn back toward you, so you shift up onto your elbow, tilting your head to the side as you try to see what he’s doing over his shoulder. He frowns at you when he catches you trying to peek and immediately hides whatever is in his hands before turning to face you again.

“I got you something,” he says softly. “I… found it a while ago, but I didn’t know when to give it to you.”

Because of how you were avoiding him, you realize, barely withholding a grimace as you glance away for a moment. Your curiosity gets the best of you, because you look back at him and ask, “What is it?”

He hesitates for a second before unfurling his hand, revealing a small, familiar figure sitting inside of it.

When you don’t immediately say anything, he says, “It’s—”

“The swan,” you breathe out, swallowing thickly as you carefully take it from him. It’s in less than pristine condition, the white paint of the feathers have darkened with time, even though it’s clear that Chrollo had tried his best to clean it up before giving it to you, but it’s undoubtedly the last figure in the bird collection you tried so hard to complete when you were a kid. You let out an airy laugh, smiling as you turn it in your hand. “Where did you find it? How did you remember after all this time?”

“At a market in Yorknew City,” he says, a soft expression on his face as he watches how you marvel over the figure. “The collection was apparently really popular two decades ago, the swan was a limited edition, only a couple hundred of them were made… Or, he could’ve just been saying that to get more money out of me.”

He didn’t answer your second question, but you still smile as you look up at him, asking doubtfully, “You paid for it?”

His smile is teasing as he says, “I thought you would appreciate it more if I did.”

You don’t know why that makes your chest ache, but it does. Your smile drops, and Chrollo pauses like he doesn’t expect that reaction from you. You let out a shaky breath; there are a thousand things you want to say to him, but you can’t push a single word out. 

I’ve missed you so much.

Why did you wait all these years for me?

I still love you.

He understands. He always does, especially when it comes to you. The concern in his face softens, and he reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek before he shifts forward, pulling you closer to him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping tight around him, nails digging into his white shirt. You take in a shuddered breath, inhaling the familiar scent of him that you’ve deprived yourself of for too long. You’re sure that he can feel the tears suddenly stinging your eyes wet against his skin, but he doesn’t make any mention of it. Instead, he lifts his hand to cradle the back of your head, his other arm coming around your waist to hold you close to him.

“You know, when you told me that your favorite bird was a swan, I made it my mission to find you that figure if it was the last thing I did,” he says, absently tracing patterns along your back to soothe you. “Paku helped me convince Sarasa and Sheila to convince the others to scour the junkyard for it for your birthday. We spent three days out there looking while Father Lisores had you helping him clean out the basement of the church.

You let out a watery laugh against him. “I always wondered why I was the only one forced to help him with that,” you accuse. “I was so mad.”

He lets out a puff of air laced with amusement. “I know. You didn’t talk to me for a week. Still snuck into my room to sleep though.”

“Shut up,” you complain, resting your head on his shoulder and letting out a heavy sigh, sinking into his arms. For the first time in too long, you feel at home. You admit quietly, “I missed you.”

He hums, tilting his face down to brush his lips against the top of your head. “I never had a favorite animal, but I researched swans after you told me they were yours. They became mine too.”

You smile. “They’re my favorite because I think they’re pretty, Chrollo,” you tell him quietly. “Not because I did any research on them. I could barely even read.”

“I suppose they are,” he agrees, “but I only started to appreciate them after I learned more about them. Did you know that once swans choose a mate, they’ll never find another? When one dies, the other doesn’t seek out another partner. It either keeps moving, half of a creature pretending to be whole, or dies in its grief.”

His hand stills on your back for a moment before continuing its lazy pattern. “People call it loyalty, but I think it’s something else. They don’t stay together out of duty—they stay because they can’t do otherwise. Because for them, there is only ever one.”

His voice has gone low, thoughtful in a way that’s far too pointed to be a casual discussion of swans. Your throat feels all clogged, and the tears you managed to push away fight their way back into your eyes. “Even if the world tears at them, even if they’re hurt or angry, even if staying together drags them into dark waters, they don’t let go,” he continues quietly. “And if they lose their other half, they’ll just keep gliding on that same path until it kills them.”

“Is that supposed to be sweet?” you murmur into his neck, trying to force some levity into your voice. “It sounds awfully tragic to me.”

He hums softly, almost amused. “I’m not sure. I think I admire it because it’s rare. Most creatures replace what they lose. They forget. Swans don’t.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, and his expression is calm as ever, but his eyes are sharp, searching yours like he’s weighing whether or not you understand what he’s saying. How could you not?

“Do you think it’s a strength,” you ask quietly, “or a weakness?”

Chrollo’s mouth curves up into that small, unreadable smile that you know too well. “Both,” he says, “but either way, it’s beautiful. I started to understand them when you chose to become a spider when we were fourteen, even though I could tell you were unsure, but I only really understood it for myself after you decided to distance yourself a few years ago.”

You don’t know how to reply to that, so instead, you lean forward, lifting your hands to hold his face between your palms before you press your lips against his. His lips are soft against yours, a bit chapped, but they taste the same as they did the last time you kissed him—familiar, like home. 

For the first time in years, you feel whole again. 

Chrollo’s breath hitches, barely audible, before he responds in kind, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other holds your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you softly at first, almost shyly—hesitant, as if he’s testing whether this is actually happening, whether you’re really here with him, really kissing him, really allowing things to go back to normal between the two of you. His lips brush yours once, twice, and when you don’t pull away, Chrollo exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.

His fingers slide into your hair carefully, his other hand sliding down to your hip so that he can shift you onto your back. He presses you down against the mattress, hovering over you, and he kisses you again. The second kiss is deeper, more certain. It’s unhurried at first, but each passing second chips away at the restraint he’s been clinging to for years.

You part for just a moment, gasping for air, and his gaze meets yours, pupils blown wide and unguarded in a way that makes your heart ache. His fingers trace over your face almost reverently as you struggle to catch your breath, and then, like he can’t bear for his lips to leave you for so long, he leans down again, kissing your cheek, the underside of your jaw, down your neck—long, lingering kisses that make your head all dizzy.

“Oh,” you gasp, lashes fluttering shut. He places a kiss on the hollow of your throat, and then on your collarbone, and then his mouth is on yours again, harder this time, as if he’s finally given himself permission to let go.

Your hands fist his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you, his hips slot between your thighs and his warmth seeps into your bones. The kiss turns hungry, the years of separation bleeding into every movement, every brush of lips and teeth. You feel him smile against your mouth when you let out a small, helpless sound against him. 

“We shouldn’t,” he breathes out, lips brushing yours as he forces the words out. Even as he speaks them, his grip on you tightens. “Any minute now—”

You kiss him again, and he lets out a ragged breath into your mouth, unable to stop himself from giving in again. His lips slide messily against yours, tongue sweeping across your lower lip and hands sliding down your body, pulling you impossibly closer. And then—

The next noise you let out is closer to pain than pleasure, and Chrollo recognizes it immediately, pulling away to let his eyes rove over you in concern. He won’t find any physical injuries and he knows that, but he still can’t stop himself from searching. After a few moments, the pain subsides—you still have some time before you’re thrown into the worst of it, but not long enough. He realizes this too, sighing softly as he brings his hands back up to your face, cradling it carefully between his palms.

“I never meant to ruin you,” he whispers, thumb running along your cheekbone and fingers absently carding through your hair as his gaze searches yours. “You were the one thing I always wanted to…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t need to. Your lips curl up into a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you say, “I know.”

“After the debrief…” he starts to say, voice inquisitive, but he doesn’t ask the question. You think maybe he doesn’t want to speak it out loud, because he knows there’s a chance that things will go back to as they have been the past seven years, even after everything that happened tonight.

“I’m going back to Meteor City,” you tell him, watching how disappointment flashes across his face before he gives you a too-soft, too-polite smile.

“Right,” he agrees. “Of course.”

“Will you come with me?” you finish quietly. Chrollo inhales sharply as your words process, and you reach out to entwine your fingers with his. “Father Lisores has been asking for you. I don’t know how to explain to him that you’ve been avoiding the hamlet for my sake.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Yes, I’ll come with you.”

You give him a soft smile, and he leans down to press his lips against your forehead. You think things will never be the same as how they were, but maybe they will be okay.

[sodapopkiss6]

Sylus the type of guy to let you put pink ribbons and bows on him

(Extended and edited version)

CW: (F)Dom/(M)Sub, bondage, subspace, gentle dom, hand job, anal fingering, fluff, comfort.

He's used to it, how people cower at his presence, the disgusted looks from another lifetime engraved in his mind. He understands, he has ever since he was a child, desperately carving and reshaping his body to hide what those around him hated. A child wanting nothing more than to be loved and accepted.

It's all in the past, forget and move on is what he tells himself. He doesn't expect for this lifetime to be any different, and he's proven right each day. Tall, immense frame, and eyes the color of blood, he's not surprised when yet another person calls him 'the devil', you however, don't think of it lightly. You argue with the man who dares to speak ill of your boyfriend before shooting him, then order the twins to finish cleaning up. 

"Finished playing already kitten?"

You roll your eyes and take his hand, "We already got what they stole from you, we can head back"

"Alright" Sylus says, letting you guide him out while you go on a angry rant.

He listens to your every word even though it's not your first time expressing your displeasure of how others speak of him. It's only until you look up at him do you pause, he's smiling.

"What?"

"It's nothing" he says "I just like it when you worry about me"

"Someone has to be angry on your behalf because clearly you have no interest in correcting them" you pull your hand away to cross your arms.

"There's no need to correct them if they're right" he chuckles "A 'devil' isn't far off"

"Does the 'devil' move so that a child can enjoy a movie? treat animals kindly?" your hand reaches for his "does he also love as purely as you do? touch his lover gently, just like how you are now?"

His eyes lower, looking at his hand intertwined with yours.

"You're not a villain Sylus, and though I may not know of everything you've done, I know for sure you're not the cruel man they paint you as"

He stays silent, what was he supposed to say? You haven't changed at all, always accepting every part of him, as a fiend and a man.

"You're also very handsome" you step closer, free hand going up to caress his hair "you have soft hair" you cup his cheek "a cute face" and finally, you lean in, kissing the space between his eyebrows "and eyes that shine like rubies"

He clears his throat "that's quite a lot of compliments"

"But not nearly enough" you tug him "come on, I have an idea"

He wordlessly follows you to the bike, letting you drive.

When you arrive at home, the two of you make your way to your shared bedroom, once there you do you share your idea. When you show him the pink silky ribbons you've been storing for a while he looks a bit confused.

"Would you be okay with me using this on you?"

He chuckles "you want to turn me into a gift box?"

You blush "something like that..."

"That's fine, you've had stranger ideas"

"No I haven't" you look away.

"Oh? what about the time you asked to 'hold it while you pee'?-" 

"-Don't change the subject!" you deflect.

He smirks and you decide to drag him to the bed, approaching him differently.

"Lay down"

He does as you say.

"Close your eyes and relax"

When you see him close them you begin. Your hands move, undressing him slowly, leaning down to kiss the skin that gets exposed. Taking your time to love every inch of him, a shaky breath escaping him as his body warms up from your touch. 

You're going too slow, he's hard and dripping already, your soft lips a tease to his growing arousal. He keeps his eyes closed, concentrating at staying still to avoid bucking into you.

It takes him a minute to realize he's fully undressed. His skin now hot and sensitive and eager for more of you. His eyes open quickly, though, when he feels the first ribbon. Its softness wrapped around his length, making him shudder. You tighten it just enough and make a cute little bow.

And just like that, you continue to decorate his body, ribbons wrapping around him from different angles. His body twitches at the feeling, but his mind is numb, contentment flooding his brain. Your fingers trace the edge of the pink silk, gliding on his skin. 

"So pretty"

He feels more precum dribble out.

The last ribbon, you tie it around his wrists, keeping them above his head and you move back to admire your work. Smiling when you see his dazed eyes looking up at you.

Your fingers go to his tip smearing his precum, and your other hand grips his length and slides up and down. The reaction is instant, his hips buck, and he lets out a soft moan. You can't help but coo at him.

"You look so cute, I wish you could look at yourself right now" you pause "Actually you could..."

You reach for your phone and snap a picture before showing it to him. His blush deepens at the sight, he's laid out, ribbons doing almost nothing to conceal him properly, and the needy look on his face completely captured by the camera.

"Look at you, don't you think you look adorable?" Your hand resumes its earlier movements.

His breath hitches, from both your words and your hand. Waves of pleasure course through him, it feels different from usual, he feels more vulnerable, more exposed to your eyes. 

"Such a cute boy, so pretty." You go down to kiss his chest, small pecks that tickle his skin until you reach one of his nubs. You give it a gently suck, rolling it around with your tongue. 

"I love you so much, I'm so lucky to have you."

"Sweetheart please-" He whimpers before moaning when your hand lowers from his length to his tight hole, using his precum as lubricant to prod it open. You don't go for depth, instead focusing on caressing his walls which contract each time you move to pull out. 

"You're mine, only mine, forever." You go to press a kiss on his cheek then move to his other untouched nipple, this time grazing it with your teeth.

"Say it, say that you're my handsome boy, worthy of love and kindness"

"I'm yours" he moans "your handsome boy and ngh- I'm worthy of love a-and mm kindness-oh-sweetie please" he whines, hips bucking into your hand.

"That's right, so you better not think otherwise ever again," you say, moving up to look into his eyes. "No matter what others say. You're perfect just the way you are"

Your hand moves back up to his length giving it a short stroke before tugging at the bow, letting it loose. His mind is complete mush, body too hot; every touch, feelings and words driving him closer to an unfamiliar edge, his eyes well up with tears and he feels the urge to reach out to you, to hold on to you.  

"I love you, every part of you, I love the leader of onychinus and Sylus. Because at the end of the day, no matter what name you choose, they're all you"

You lean down to kiss him softly, yet passionately. Your hand stroking him faster until his tipping point. It doesn't take much. His eyes close, a few tears slipping as he moans into your mouth. He desperately chases after you, as if afraid of you letting go, of losing you.

His wrists weakly pull on the ribbons, arms itching to wrap themselves around you. But he feels too heavy and disoriented to actually free himself, whining in frustration at his failed attempt. 

"Shh, it's okay, just breathe," you talk to him softly, guiding him back.

Placing small kisses in between his eyebrows, you murmur praises while you undue the ribbons. Feeling his breathing controlling itself as minutes passed.

As he starts to feel more conscious his arms quickly wrap around you, sitting up to hold you close. You hear small sniffles and feel something wet fall on your neck. You don't comment on it instead rocking him gently, humming a soft melody while your hands rub his back and head. You can't tell how much time has passed until he speaks up, voice raw and quiet.

"Thank you" 

"Anything for you." You press a small kiss on his head and he moves back to look at you, eyes red and glassy.

"I love you"

Smiling fondly, you rest your forehead against his.

"I love you too"

Ate 7 walmart cookies and now my tummy hurts🥀 ts so ass it's literally Sylus’s fault would totally eat his ass tho but this isn't what this is about anyways bye

Tags:

@caterpillar-in-disguise

[leovenuslatina]

✶⋆.˚DOM X SUB✶⋆.˚

THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

who's in control?/ whats the dynamic of you and your person's sexual life?

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

• . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. •

��� . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. •

pile one

the adventurous couple

its giving the two of you will try and do anything once. Just the main fact that you two can be together is exactly what keeps you going. the two of you have such a wholesome and caring attachment each other. the two of you are definitely connected on like a soulmate soulful level its very deep and fulfilling goes way beyond just sex. as far as who is in control its really a balanced and equal and so very healthy. sometimes your partner will take control and sometimss you will. it really just depends on how youre feeling that day. the communication during the act is so so perfect. the two of you are always checking in on one another. always making sure everything is okay and comfortable. you two are like a really cool couple. like youre super open to experimenting and buying toys and oils and sexy little experiments on each other its genuinely so romantic and cute !! sometimes you may have conflicting wants or needs in the bedroom and thats okay ! thats where your good communication comes into play. and the two of you make it work.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

pile two

bunny rabbits

yall literally cannot get enough of each other like seriously GIVE IT A BREAK !! It's to the point that anytime you two are alone youre going at it. its like you two are magnets constantly needing to be stuck together. like pile one this couple is very adventurous and will do anything once anything to just please each other. its very very passionate. you two may be each others first so this connection is very new and fresh. if youre not each others first then its been along time since either one of yall have been intimate with anyone. so thats why you two are so excited to just bang all day everyday. its literally ridiculous even the people around you are like "oh god please get a room" as far as who is in control im seeeing its most likely your partner. I think after being intimate for a whole the two of you fall into a dynamic where your partner kinda throws you around and puts you however they want and youre okay with that because you trust them more than anything. and to them thats an honor.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

pile three

this pile just need to be understood fr 🤧

!!tw!!

I feel like this pile has had some trauma 😕 you might be really apprehensive about sex or being intimate in a deeper way because of how you've been hurt in the past. you may have been wrong by someone financially. mea ing they held the fact that you didn't have as much money or that you were completely dependent on them because of money. which makes you guarded and not ever wanting to open up to anyone else. which of course your FS or person completely understands. not that you need them because you are so strong and capable of taking care of yourself but your person is there anyway. they may have swooped in come to save you from a situation they were so willing to help you pile 3. you almost couldn't believe that someone could be so sweet and caring. but trust me they CAN ! people want to love and take care of you pile 3. youre more than worthy of it too ! as far as the sex goes its very healing. its never pushy or pressured its always just love and focused on you and they literally dont care because making you happy makes them happiest.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

[decolonize-the-letf]

"a lot to unpack here"

Proceeds to say the most ignorant xenophobic shit I've seen on their website without even the slightest bit of awareness.

Okay let's break this down.

1. Borders shouldn't exist. I say this as an indigenous person who's family is still healing from having our land invaded and colonized ( AND who isn't a dumbass). Countries are invaded all the time despite their borders OR their human rights. Borders are not magic gates that keep the people you want out and people you want in all while making sure everyone is treated correctly, safely, and with consideration.

Palestine being the first, giant example of this but Sudan and Congo are up there too. Along with that you can look at asylum seekers, refugees, and immigrants waiting at borders around the globe and find tent cities all over the place, families reaching through gates for a chance to hold their loved ones, hunger, no access to showers or toilets, etc.

Plus let's not ignore how often borders literally just do not work. For as many people at the border are in poor conditions because they aren't being allowed in, there are also many within the borders who can't leave and are exploited because their neighbors, employers, etc know that they can't afford being deported.

I don't care what good they do or how often you think they protect your human rights when human rights and safety are violated CONSTANTLY in the name of those borders and "national safety."

And this is before we even get into the nuances of how they racist specifically!! To indigenous people like my very own tribe who historically were nomads in northern America and who can now no longer travel the same paths we have for literal millenia.

Bringing me to the next point.

2. Immigrants don't erase my indigeneity. At all. Like you just said immigrant is a word describing an experience that not everybody shares. Its not a race, ethnicity, or nationality. What kind of racist xenophobic response even was that?

Secondly, borders do not protect indigeneity. My people were native to this land before the USA and Canada were even a thought and we will be native long after.

In fact, it's these countries and their racist eugenic laws that created blood quantum, a systematic way of trying to erase us from existence using paperwork. These countries won't even respect the borders and treaties of the reservation we DO have. Like????

"Without borders EVERYONE is indigenous" and "without borders indigenous people wouldn't be indigenous anymore" are two incredibly wrong and ignorant things to say/imply.

Literally just shut up.

3. Nobody cares that you don't like borders and wouldn't prefer it. That's not actually any kind of valid point. Regarding needing "a long term plan to suppress territorial behavior." I don't think we do actually. Being territorial is not a human enrichment activity. We are not birds or ants or fish. We are not incapable of of diplomacy or critical thinking so why would we enable the driving behavior behind colonialism? You want a long term plan? Stop putting "territorial" racist xenophobes in charge of massive land budgets and territories. This should be common sense I fear.

4. People do this literally all the time. You know who stops them? Border patrol and the national guard. Do you know why they exist? Because they know that a border crossing via boat isn't actually that hard. To that point please stop fear mongering and saying baseless bullshit. Search up the amount of crashes made by immigrants who tried to cross the border without understanding "maritime laws" and be embarrassed.

5. "People bigger than you can stop you from existing, ackshually 🤓" Exactly. And people are violent like that all the time without doing it in the name of a country and whether they do it in country that has borders or not. I will repeat that borders are not magic gates.

"Again what's the long term-" Shut up. Imagine for two seconds if we talked this way about domestic violence. "It's just human nature. People are violent in relationships sometimes that's just a fact. Without a way to suppress this behavior long term you just need to accept the way things are since we don't have a solution to completely stop it. Also I refuse to even acknowledge any arguments to limit this violence unless you're talking about a Final Solution since it's such an unrealistic goal."

Violence is not specifically a territorial behaviour, be so fucking serious. And "territorial behaviour" is not something we should put up with more than we do with any other kind of violent behavior.

6. "Chaos will erupt if good guys don't have guns!!" Good guys have guns now and don't actually stop anyone from being shot nor do they actually stop the "bad guys" from having guns. Uvalde is obviously the go to example for this but if the "good guys" actually did their job on a larger scale shit like the black market and trafficking rings wouldn't exist. Further, they "good guys" kill, SA, abuse, and harass people all the fucking time and that murder is often rampant with racial and ableist bias. That happens so much it's a systemic issue in pretty much every country on earth.

Be so fucking for real.

7. Idk know how normal this in other countries but the USA is massive, right? Huge. Easily quadruple the size of most European countries. There are species specific to parts of the USA that are invasive to others. This is in fact extremely common. And yet there are no "biosecurity" points between states, counties, or cities. Somehow, we have not fallen to irreparable repair. Amazing how this is only relevant when it comes to people entering the country.

Almost like it's just xenophobia. To that point, regarding the biosecurity of human life: do not sit there and tell me you care about biosecurity when most of the planet stopped caring about COVID the moment it became inconvenient to their governments bottom line. When was the last time anyone in these notes wore a mask or got a booster shot? Do you ALWAYS stay home from work, traveling, or school when you're sick? Exactly.

8. Who is "we?" Extremely interesting you think efforts to make vaccines and healthcare accessible in across the world via programs and orgs like Doctors Without Borders would just stop existing if countries didn't exist. Many of these types of programs are funded and accessible due to individual funding anyway. Programs like UNICEF would certainly need some reformed but again, I see no reason why these efforts would completely stop.

"without borders countries basic healthcare like vaccines would be inaccessible" what. Why? Do you think all the infrastructure to provide these things disappear like magic?

9. That's right not everyone would get vaccinated which is exactly why we shouldn't have privatized healthcare which puts the burden of health on individuals regardless of their capability to pay for it. This burden should be shared among community members through universal healthcare systems, it'd provide incentive to make sure that your community has access to the best healthcare possible and that people are utilizing that healhcare. And again, that includes letting programs like doctors without borders step in when and where it's necessary.

Honestly it's pretty insane that people all over the world have existed forever, long before borders existed and that now, despite our progress in healthcare, social services, technology, etc xenophobes and nationalists think that without borders people would be at deaths door or fall to absolute chaos within a year. When the reality is that if all this knowledge was shared instead of guarded as proprietary then people would survive and thrive more than than they have been.

Again, especially when it's borders and foreign policy that's harming so many of these places in the first place.

Our first world privileges don't exist in a vacuum afterall.

borders between countries aren't real btw we just made them up. there's no such thing as an "immigrant" we're all just people moving around on the same planet that we've always moved around on

[emprexxluxaic]

How to be the best version of yourself

buy a reading with me♡

for collabs and other important inquiries send a dm.

pile i

hello, bestie? let me know your thoughts after you've finished reading this work. so, i think the best version of yourself requires to understand who you was, what are your role through this lifetime, and how you can convey those two in your life. first thing is to accept yourself and to speak about how you feel, there's no good about insecurities or something that makes you feel negative—be you, nourish what is missing and spread it out among the people. instead of walking away what makes you hurt, embrace it—that is a part of the life. the reason behind of all of this pain is for you to learn and value yourself. to find what makes you happy and learn something from it. someday you may not realize that you share what you been through and there will be someone else using it as motivation to survive and fight for their life. also expressing through words, behavior and actions will bring the best in you, the love that you may seek before is just already deep within. you are free in whatever your actions to take because you knew that is you and what makes it the best for you. using your head than your heart is what makes you unattainable among others, don't be too soft when people want or need something from you, it's time to ask yourself "what have you got in return?" a thank you perhaps? is that enough of your worth? nahh, saying NO to people will bring enlightenment for you. speaking a simple "no" to people will not make you bad at all, that makes you as you so don't give them a god-damned reason that allowing them to say things that are not good towards you but teach them a lesson when you know it's already below the belt. also, speak up and converse with in a very ethical way but never do what kind of behavior they convey towards you. good bye, see you on my next PAC!

pile ii

how's my group 2s people doing? i feel like in order to get the best version of yourself you need to deal with the change and transformation with yourself. i could see that you were the kind of person who is more giver than a consumer itself but this is the right time to prioritize yourself about uhmm what you can give to yourself because based with your cards and spread you have more time to people and what they want from you but have less of time to nurture yourself alone. you might be a people pleaser 😅. i mean, it's not that bad to become kind and giver with others but you should keep in mind and consider leaving some for yourself. also, the best version of you requires to have time and self improvement, to realize that you were the one who will bring anything into your life. this doesn't mean your group needs to let go and cutting off whom you can rely and depends on because somehow in other times they will bring the best of you. but also, you should consider that not all the time these people are often in your side it encourages you to be independent and face the world itself that will bring out the fire inside you. goodbye for now, see you on my next PAC!

pile iii

my last group of pile, i hope you are doing well when you find this reading. i feel like to step with the best version of yourself is you don't need to become a perfect individual rather you need to embrace wholeness and align them all in order to show them with your outer world. it's seems like you know yourself very well and you have a strength inside that seems appear "i can do this" this is why, you don't give up easily even you are exhausted with all of the chaos that's happening with your life right now. despite that, i assume you have a harsh and sharp criticism with yourself that cut your powerful ideas before they even bloom. this might be a part of your journey, to learn that you should choose compassion over rough comments—the best version of yourself is not being included to be the best and great but rather it focus on how can your nurture and protect yourself more. also, i feel like when you nurture yourself more. it influence others and it helps them to heal themselves too while you are healing as well. although, sometimes you are feeling guilty when saying no to the things and people that makes you uncomfortable but that's totally fine at all. your spread alone are encouraging you to forgive yourself for the old disappoinment and mistakes because all people does that—it's also a perfect time to turn your pain into strength. i think you were afraid to be independent or be alone? maybe you should try to lessen what others thoughts are on you. your best version is already within you all this time and is waiting for you to choose them every day in every smallest way. goodbye for now, see you on my next PAC!

[astr0moon]

Spicy astrology observations pt.2

For these observations I will use Mars, Eros and Venus (this observation can also be applied to Lust).

Mars: how the person acts. Venus: the atmosphere and how the person does the things. Eros: the energy that the person has.

For more accurate observations, look at your Eros persona chart, trust me. And if you don't know how to calculate it, I will make a tutorial,if you want,let me know:)

Scorpio

Scorpio venus. The key words here are passion,romance,tension... and intensity. They will chase you,but not in a loud way. They will keep their secrets,in order to appeal to your curiosity. They will test you,flirt with you,ask spicy questions,and turn you on only with words and voice. The atmosphere will be spicy without even trying too much. They will take you to fantasise about them, and think about them between the sheets. You will be seduced by them and obsessed with their absence and presence in such a natural way. Intentional touch,drink,kisses,but with clothes on. They have to understand if you are a person trustworthy enough to have their mind and body. Dark atmosphere,this is the right word. They are charmers. They will turn you on and then leave before the act, on purpose. So, the atmosphere will be set time before the real act. They will take you to crave intimacy with them more than you ever had:) In the bed,slow kisses, teasing, flirting is a thing. A kink they may have is about lingerie, so sexy lingerie,or lingerie with surprises,but also go anywhere without underwear (heavy on this one!). For them having sex is something that starts way before the act.

Scorpio mars/eros. So,they like it slow,but strong. They like it when you crave for more. They will be in you,and also leak your neck, slowly kiss you, say freaky shit, until you are on the edge. They will take your legs to shake. If you are a woman,it is basically the same thing, but you also like to dress up. I imagine you guys with black lingerie, hold-ups,black heels.. like dominatrix style (even if you like submission). Love spicy games,do it while you two are high,or do it drunk... Also something with lingerie,like I was saying before,fuck you after going out and you haven't any underwear on. Play with your intimate parts. BDSM can also be a thing,in mars ruled signs is very common. Also,dirty shit. And they have high sexual energy.

Other notes: scorpio placements are really passionate and will really work hard to get you to the edge and have the orgasm of your dreams. They will make you kinkier than ever and leave you wanting more and more of the sensation they cause you. Be kinky,but also be resourceful. Make them enjoy you as much as they do you.

Pisces

Pisces venus loves to adore their partner. They will watch the person they are in love with with puppy eyes and say the most sweet thing. They will talk to you like you are a goddess,the woman of their dreams. They fall in love very quickly,and make sure you will fall for them too. They love to flirt and be charming around their partner and put them on a pedestal. They will make you feel like you are the love of their life and the most lovable person in the world. Love romantic gestures. Cuddle. And also sex,cause they see it as an extension of the intimacy that they reached with you. They love you when you are beautiful. They have really high beauty standards unfortunately. If man,they can think with dick😐. They CAN, I'm not saying that all men with pisces venus,but... a lot. They will set the atmosphere slowly kissing and touching you,to feel every inch of your body. They can love submissions. They can really venerate the partner, kissing all the body slowly,saying sweet things during the act... Also they may not enjoy sex so much,like they can love foreplay,but traditional sex can be boring sometimes to them, I've noticed that. Can be attracted to persons that have angelic appearance.

Pisces mars will be your puppy. Your slave. Order them what you want and they will do it. Love feet,to leak them,or have them all over their face lol. Unconventional,they may love to be walked around with a leash and soft dominance,but they also love a firm girl to taunt and denigrate them. Yes, they are a bit particular. They can of course love normal things too,but they usually have weird kinks that make them satisfied to bond with you. Definitely,if you prefer someone dominant,they are not for you. Or rather,they might like to dominate gently,but it is not assured. If you ask them,however,they will do anything to humor you.

Pisces eros have high sensual energy, literally god/goddess,and they can have what they want. Similar to scorpio,but in a more sweet and manipulative way. They use their beauty, delicious voice and sweet kisses in order to appear innocent and pure. This is the energy that they incarnate. A pure, fragile, emotional energy that lets people fall at their feet. Seems innocent,but they are extremely calculators and manipulators,this is why people are attracted to them.

Virgo

Virgo venus,they are detail oriented. They will plan the all act decade before it😭😭,and in EVERY detail. In bed,they love routine,so like you'll believe that they did it before,even if they are a virgin,and they will focus on details on your body, so they will kiss your scars,your moles,etc,to turn you on. They are also very caring,so they will make sure that what they are doing is ok for you. They are perfectionists, they want all to be perfect,and also they love to improve their abilities based on what you like the most. They aren't serious btw, I'm saying this cause this is the way they are stereotipated,but it is not. On the negative side,they can be very critical towards your body,but on the positive side they will focus the most on your imperfections in order to make you feel safe around them,and loved. So a very clean and calm atmosphere, but they are two faced. "Ladies in the streets,freaky in the sheet" vibes. They want to predict and control every possible thing,and you'll see it in the room they will take you. Also in the kisses,they are very good,very perfectionists. Cotton panties/something simple and clean is much more appreciated to them than something exaggerated.

Virgo mars loves routine, so they will have sex at a specific hour every day, they don't like spontaneity. Dominatrix vibes,they want to please the partner in every possible way,but they also want control at the same time. Dark fantasies,and very various kinks. They are very kinky,and they may love to denigrate/being denigrated,with words of course,but also with gestures. So spank you, call you a whore, humiliate you, treat you like a slave.... Or vice versa. They may like words of affirmation,and hear that they are good at what they are doing. Another thing can be prolonging the act by taking you to the limit, then going fast and then purposely slowing down and saying dirty words to you in the process,and in all of this having the face of a good boy/girl,while you are suffering haha. Or repeat the act several times, until you are exhausted. Foreplay can be a thing too, they will love it before penetration. They are very caring of course,all they'll do is mainly for your pleasure:) So be attentive to communicate everything to them. The more things they have to watch out for to please you, the better:) Oh,also they may love the professor-student thing.

Virgo eros, dark vibes, dark feminine energy,femme fatale energy. I know that people associate this with scorpio,but I have to disagree. Virgo eros catches the eye only walking into the room (also cap eros and taurus eros I may say) cause they look like they have their shit together,but also look like they are completely a mess. They remind me of a woman smoking on the terrace. Sexual energy,but not like scorpios. Sensual energy,but not like pisces. They are a mix of sensuality, sexuality,and dom energy. Idk how to explain it in a better way. They look attentive and so sweet,but also unapproachable and taciturn at the same time. They are a mix of things that leave people with questions on their mind. They may also look like they are not so freaky in bed,they may look like they like regular things,but they will surprise you,I SWEAR. They love to serve their partner by controlling everything,but also to be wildly submissive. They will do everything in their possession to still be attentive to their partner's desires,rest assured :) And what I said about mars applies a little bit.

I was thinking of stopping the series because with the other signs I have no experience,but you loved the first part lol, so I definitely have to do the other signs. I think I will do them shorter though,putting eros,mars and venus together :)

[watercolourferns]

The post probably was being sarcastic, it doesn't really read like that, though... so I'll reblog on as serious note. I'm on the Spectrum, too, so that will colour what I say a lot and there's nothing anyone can do about it. (I'll block anyone who is rude because of this.)

No to all of this except the last part, the one about unionizing. And yet... it's not gonna work if we keep thinking about "monkey brain"; I'll explain why: If I'm an introvert I'm an introvert, period. We are primates, but we have developed very different idiosyncrasies from our primate cousins. This is why we're so diverse and we can all coexist together even if to our "instincts" it looks wrong. This is because we no longer need to rely on THIS type of instinct anymore. We have the ability to do introspection and critical thinking, we have an extremely developed and complex empathy level, and we've come up with something called "ethics" where we RESPECT people's RIGHT to be alone and not part of the grooming circle and use our critical thinking to actually understand and tell our monkey brain "Nah, this person isn't a threat nor an outsider, they're just here to do what they were paid to do and that's it." PERIOD, FULL STOP, NO NEED TO CHANGE ANYONE'S MIND.

The corporate world thrives in this "monkey brain" rhetoric, that's why they say "we're like a family here!". They count on people going beehive and following "instinct" blindly, without using their crit thinking skills nor their sense of ethics, and least of all their empathy. They count on people creating groups where everyone thinks more or less the same and to shun "outsiders" in such a way that they won't interfere with the "delicate ecosystem" within a corporation.

THIS IS WHY UNIONIZING USING THE MONKEY BRAIN WON'T WORK.

You need to break the humans out of that "monkey brain" mentality so they can use their crit thinking skills, their ethics compass, and their empathy to actually question the system they're in and start unionizing. You could try and manipulate their monkey brain, but unless you actually promise them something better than the comfort of the grooming circle they won't listen to you. There's no way around it. I know because I've tried it.

People aren't ready to leave the grooming circle for something else and they probably never will be in their majority. Comfort is part of the monkey brain; all animals look for comfort on instinct, whatever comfort means to each animal. If you try and make them leave their comfort using the monkey brain path they will turn on you...

[lexluthorpregnant]

Clex attending a gala but Lex has a vibrator in his pussy and Clark has the control

THIS but lex and clark are dating and luthor doesn't know he's superman

Luthor DEFINITELY invents some crazy sex toys just for himself, a remote controlled vibrator being one of them

He'd have it in during important events and parties, clark being away during most of them adding to the anticipation and thrill of it turning on at any time

Luthor being the manipulative mastermind that he is would never give away any clues, acting professional even with his panties absolutely drenched, abdomen clenching with each vibration as Clark turns up the intensity dial

But this gala was different, some charity event for endangered species or whatnot- it didn't matter! the only thing that mattered was the fact Superman was attending

Luthor had a whole speech prepared specifically modeled to get on Superman's nerves, so the alien would lose his temper and make a scene

He stood out like a sore thumb, his suit bright and stupid as ever, almost glowing in the white ballroom

But when luthor waltzed over to the kryptonian, determined to ruin his evening

the vibrator turned on

Which shouldn't be a big deal, the whole appeal of having it on in public is having to act as if nothing is happening, like there isn't a powerful, carefully crafted device pressing perfectly onto his clit at all times

So he carried on, oblivious of what's to come

"Superman! Fancy seeing you here"

"thought you'd be too buisy saving kittens and helping old ladies cross the street to attend such a.. sophisticated occasion"

"Hello Luthor, today has been uneventful so i decided to stop by"

"though i am always keeping an eye out for trouble"

He gave lex a polite smile and winked

the bastard winked at him!

Who does he think he is-

Suddenly the vibrator turned up a dial

"You– Luthor cleared his throat –what are you implying?"

"Oh nothing, just didn't take you as the charity type"

The dial went up another level.

keeping his composure was easy when he was talking to useless nobodies.. But Superman always got under his skin

"if you must know, I care deeeply about the environment–

The dial reached one of its higher states, the strongest one they ever used in public

–might be difficult for someone like you to understand, but earth is my home"

Concentrating was getting difficult, the wonderful sensations mixed with visuals of his biggest enemy right in front of him, making luthors crotch pulse

"I do understand, I grew up here"

"What I don't understand is why mass manufacture nuclear weapons if you care so.. deeply about earth"

Just as luthor started to open his mouth to retaliate, The toy turned up once more-

He is going to kill clark

It took everything in his power not to let out a wanton whine, thighs starting to tremble, legs feeling weak

He is going to kill clark, revive him and kill him once more

He knew what he looked like, clark never spared a moment of silence, always talking about luthors beautiful face as he was edging closer to his peak

Superman just stared at him with a concerned expression

"Are you feeling alright Luthor? Your face is flush.."

He felt his orgasm building, the pleasure impossible to ignore

"I- I'm-"

As if on que, the vibrator climbed to level six

Clark was fully aware level six made lex orgasm, that's why he never breached past level four in such circumstances

Maybe he pressed the wrong dial or stepped on the controller

Either way It didn't matter, lex was coming nonetheless

He would've dropped to his knees if superman wasn't there to catch him, steadying him by his shoulders, the feeling of the aliens warm, large hands making him gasp

"Luthor?"

Ruining his expensive panties by coming in his pants during a charity event in front of superman was embarrassingly one of the hottest things he's even done in his life

After his mind clears he will jump out of Superman's gentle grasp and run to the restroom to berate Clark over the phone

But for the time being, lex lets himself feel this true, unfiltered ecstasy

His heart beating like a drum