#so that should be fairly fast

[cubbihue]

Would the Hazel puppet we see in a few of the shows episodes be a kind of very basic changeling? Its obviously made out of way less unwishes than Chimmy but the similarities are too striking to be ignored.

YES! YES IT ISS.

Hazel's puppet is a very basic changeling. So basic, that it's only purpose is to complete one specific set of actions. When those actions are done, it disappears! It's quite literally and physically a sock puppet.

The differences between Hazel's changeling and Timmy's changeling is that their lifespans and construction is different. They serve different purposes.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

More information about changelings that's ultimately just world building ramblings. Lotsa paragraphs.

Hazel's changeling is short lived, low on unwishes, and more specific to the job.

Her changeling is a one-and-done tool. It only has to do one thing. "Distract the Teacher." "Distract the Mother." So it doesn't need a lot of unwishes, it just needs enough to do its job! As a result, it is made of low quality cloth, it can't verbalize, and it doesn't make its own actions.

Hazel's changeling favors Perceptional Magic. This is why Mr. Guzman doesn't recognize that Hazel's changeling isn't Hazel. He can't see that it's made of felt and sticks. It's constantly pooling out perception magic to warp how its being viewed.

For this reason, the changeling doesn't actually need as much connections as Timmy's does. It can exist by itself, or with Hazel, so long as it has just enough Unwishes to keep it alive. Maybe not stable, but, alive.

By contrast, Timmy' changeling is on the opposite end of this spectrum.

Timmy's changeling is a continuous tool. It must persist and adapt and grow. "Go to school" "Get a job" "Find a partner". It needs many unwishes to face many situations and scenarios. So the changeling has a more difficult build.

The magic it favors is different. Timmy's changeling requires Environmental Magic. People see it for how it looks. It has human skin and can speak the human tongue. But what it requires is a suitable environment. Otherwise, people will know it for what it is. Wooden and hollow.

The more developed and high-tech the Changeling is, the less it's recommended for it to see it's real counterpart. The bigger the amount of Unwishes, the more you want it to be stable and calm. Especially when that changeling's job is "Be Human".

[thekenikaridevblog]

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I know my main priority should be to just do the lineart and then focus on coloring but. i literally get the urge to just fully color every shot once i'm done with the lineart. i genuinely cannot help myself. it's crazy

anyways despite there being a couple of problems with the files I have gotten a ton of things done! even worked on those bigger shots that are made on bigger canvases so i can move em dramatically in-engine

Slow and steady sure wins the race!

I'm gonna be completely transparent: development has slowed down to a snail's pace. this is a phenomenon that always happens when I have to do cutscenes, but also i would rather explode than have this moment not be a cutscene (it's literally a character execution yk)

so, in order to make myself feel a little less sad about it, I have decided to make a mini update post thing exclusively for this cutscene that divides the task into much smaller sections so I can still feel like i'm doing progress (and also hopefully make myself and the readers realise just how many actual steps are in making a cutscene. good lird)

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[thedevotionaltour]

generally thought about the world of instagram and it's various sides and then came to the conclusion no one under the age of like 18 should ever know the phrase caloric deficit and especially so if they learned it from instagram which truthfully you could call disordergran at this point in life with how every fucking side of it pushes some dumb bullshit

[arolesbianism]

Did all the upper layer core suppressions in my second playthrough today 👍 I still stand by that Netzach's healing bursts are maybe a bit too generous, but it did also happen to be the only one I didn't first try so who am I to talk ig 😔

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[mari-positas]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

[starmapz]

what you know - ch18: blinding lights || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). medical content. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.8k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

To admit that you’re working on a paper for college while at work feels like a crime of some sort.

Time theft, workplace misconduct… something that sounds far more serious than a student painstakingly trying to keep up with all of her responsibilities. It wouldn’t stand in a court for any sort of crime, to say the very least.

But it almost feels like it could.

At least, that’s what you think to yourself when you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of your boss’ voice from behind you as you’re hunched over your personal laptop, rather than your work laptop. When she calls for Yuki rather than you, relief courses through you.

Letting out a breath when the two women make their way to another office, you lean back in your office chair, letting your arms dangle loosely over the sides of the chair. You can’t really be certain what exactly has you so tightly wound with everything going on, but the least of your concerns should be your boss seeing schoolwork on your screen rather than actual work. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re on top of things at work and Maya won’t care, nothing seems to calm your nerves.

Resting your head against the back of your chair, you stare up at the ceiling as though that might help write your paper. The heavy fall of fast footsteps behind you alerts you to another presence, but something about the way the shoes scuff the floor with each trudge tells you everything you need to know about your new companion. This presence doesn’t have you on edge quite like your boss does.

A familiar pair of dim crimson eyes come into perspective, blocking your view of the ceiling as Sukuna leans over the back of your chair. He examines your expression for a moment, lingering on your slightly parted lips just long enough to confuse your poor heart again before he asks an easy question, with an even easier answer.

“Coffee?”

“God, please.”

He grunts in approval and spins your chair for you, waiting for you to head out in front of him. He’s close behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks with that familiar disinterested expression that you’ve come to know from him.

As you walk alongside him, it’s easy to find yourself attempting to decipher the way he stares at the concrete beneath him, staring at nothing in particular.

Distant.

You wish that part of his expression wasn’t so familiar, but to your surprise, he seems to snap himself out of it, meeting your gaze with a somewhat level expression. This is the first time you’ve seen him since the events on Friday when he found the letter, and although he seemed a bit better over the texts you’ve exchanged since then, you’re surprised to find that he seems lighter in-person as well. His dark circles tell tales of demons he still battles at night, but right now he seems…

Okay.

“What are you workin’ on?” He queries as he tears his gaze away from you, staring blankly straight ahead.

Pausing at a crosswalk as you wait for the traffic light to change, your shoulders dip as you sigh. “A paper for my Public Relations and Marketing class.”

Eyeing you from his peripherals, your friend raises a brow. “Is this to make up for the paper you missed?”

You shake your head. “No, the prof still won’t let me do a make-up paper for that,” you pout, fiddling with the polish on your nails that’s clearly been picked at. “This one’s about a presentation that I missed, so I’ve been having a tough time,” you explain with a sigh.

As the traffic light changes and you step out into the crosswalk, Sukuna takes a moment to think before he takes a couple of long strides to catch up to you. “That’s my fault, huh?”

Your eyes widen as Sukuna pieces together just how far behind you’ve fallen by his hand, although it was never intentional on either of your parts. “No! No-” you shake your head, looking for something else to blame as though the pigeon pecking at a crumb of bread down the street might provide some sort of miraculous excuse.

“It’s fine, princess. I can take it.”

You frown, tilting your head up to take a look at him as he holds the cafe door open for you. “It’s not your fault,” you insist, a shiver running straight up your spine as Sukuna’s large hand finds the small of your back and remains there until you reach the line, when he finally drops it.

You blink to yourself, dazed by just how strangely sweet Sukuna is being, not to mention considerate. Your heart races as you begin to wonder just how long you can go trying to convince yourself that this all means nothing, when it’s getting harder by the day. Every little touch, every lingering stare on your lips, are you really reading too hard into it? You’re starting to wonder if you’ve been delusional this whole time to think the stray glances and affectionate touches are just for comfort when he’s going out of his way to be as much of a gentleman as Sukuna can be.

Those thoughts only muddle your brain more as you stare up at him with pursed lips and a small crease between your brow.

“Dunno how it wouldn’t be my fault,” he gruffs, oblivious to the way the small of your back still burns from his touch.

“I- um-” At a loss for words, you’re grateful when the cashier calls for the next customers. It doesn’t shock you when Sukuna orders and pays for you, though the signals he’s sending you are almost dizzying.

Before you have time to really spiral, though, something catches your attention.

“Can I grab a name for the order?” The man behind the counter queries, picking up a sharpie to hold up to both cups.

“Ryomen,” your friend gruffs, a hardened expression on his face.

As you make your way to the side of the counter to wait, you tilt your head up at him. You know he’s been struggling hearing the nickname that his brothers give him, but you’re the only one who calls him that. He hasn’t seemed too bothered by ‘Sukuna’ in full, so you can’t place what would have him choosing to give his first name to the cashier.

“Ryomen?” You find your words as your heart slows to a reasonable rate now that your thoughts aren’t occupied by the mixed signals you’re getting from him.

He sighs heavily, shrugging. “Tryin’ something,” he brushes your question off, though you can’t get a read on his thoughts.

“Would you rather I called you that, too?”

Pushing a hand through his hair, he shrugs again and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine,” he sighs, exasperated.

It’s easy to see just how much he’s still struggling with finding himself again, and as much as it kills you to see him growing so frustrated by the fact that he can’t seem to bear to hear the name his little brothers call him, something else sticks out.

He must be healing, to be willing to go by the name his dad chose for him. While the wounds surrounding the situation with his little brothers deepen, the scars caused by his father’s passing are healing. Four years, and he’s finally making peace with that loss. He’ll carry it with him for the rest of his life without a doubt, but maybe it won’t be so debilitating anymore. The letter may not be finished, but it said the words that Sukuna has needed to hear all this time.

“Okay,” you hum. “Ryo kinda has a nice ring to it,” you shrug as you recall what Toji still calls the ex-history major. “Or I can stick with Sukuna.”

“Whatever you want,” He grumbles, picking up his coffee as the employee sets it down, along with your order which Sukuna passes along to you.

Taking it from his hands, you shoot him a frown, but he’s already on his way out of the shop. “Okay, um-” you stammer as you catch up with his long strides, attempting to change the subject. “Have you had the chance to talk to your lawyer?”

Sukuna holds the door open for you, shaking his head. “She doesn’t work weekends. I sent her an email, though.”

Nodding along, you curiously peer up at him, taking a sip of your drink. “Thanks, by the way,” you grin, holding up your cup. He grunts before you continue your train of thought. “I know we kinda talked about it on Friday, but what’s your plan?”

“Keep looking for evidence,” Sukuna states with a renewed resolve. “I’m taking on evening shifts at the shop again, gonna put more time into shit with the lawyer,” he adds. “If nothin’ else, then I hit Kaori with a lawsuit for not letting me see my brothers.”

“The auto shop? I didn’t know you still worked there.”

“I took some time off with all the bullshit goin’ on,” he explains. “But I started back on Saturday.”

You nod slowly, glad to see he’s determined to fix things once more, but equally worried that he’ll overwork himself again. “That’s good to hear, Sukuna- or um- Ryo?” You test the name, tilting your head slightly in thought over the new nickname.

“Told you I don’t care,” he mumbles before taking a sip of his drink, eyeing you from his peripherals.

“Right,” you mumble, worrying your lip between your teeth. “Anyway, it’s good to hear that you’ve got a plan.”

He hums. “It’s… what my dad would want,” he mutters, staring down at the lid of his bitter coffee, tracing the ridges of the lid.

Smiling to yourself, you nod. The circumstances aren’t ideal, but he’s managing. He’s coping healthily, and while you can see he’s wearing himself thin with work and still equally lost, it’s just a relief to see that he’s trying. It’s all anyone can really ask of him.

It’s all you want to see from him.

“He’d be proud,” you agree.

With the way that your eyes shine as you look up at him, Sukuna actually believes you, too. His lips quirk up into just a hint of a smirk. So minute, you might even miss it if you weren’t so closely examining his expression.

He holds the door open as you reach your office, following you up to your floor and straight back to your office.

“Catch you at lunch?” He queries.

Your eyes widen slightly, but you nod.

He may be distant and not all there, but peeking through the cracks is the man you’ve grown to love. Those slivers of familiarity send relief coursing through you and for once, you’re able to actually focus on your (school) work with the knowledge that Sukuna is okay and he’s willing to put up a fight for his brothers, no matter what it takes.

–

Staring at your phone under the lecture hall desk, you squint at the image Sukuna has sent you.

Should you be focusing on your lecture? Yeah, probably.

Definitely.

2:34 PM Kuna || [2 image attachments]

2:34 PM Kuna || does the second one make you feel like i put more emphasis on the negative space

You continue to quint at the image under the table, chewing on your lip as you compare it to the first one.

2:38 PM You || I think so! Why?

2:39 PM Kuna || this client asked for another revision

2:39 PM Kuna || this is the 7th one

2:39 PM Kuna || losing my fucking mind

You bite back a smile in the middle of your lecture, tucking your phone back into your pocket. If his texts since Friday have made him seem relatively okay, his texts since your conversation yesterday have been downright lively.

Well, you know- as lively as Sukuna can be while struggling with the loss of his brothers and his own identity.

Your phone vibrates with a call, which you ignore without bothering to check it. It’s likely Sukuna, and you know what he’s working on, he’s okay. You should really focus.

Tapping your nail against one of the keys of your keyboard, you smooth your skirt and readjust your position in an effort to give your full attention to the professor that’s already scolded you for forgetting about an entire paper. You can’t afford to fall behind anymore when you’re already pouring all of your spare time into this class. You need the best score you can get if you don’t want to risk paying for this semester, or worse still, having your diploma withheld.

Your phone seems to have other plans, however. It begins vibrating again, signaling a call. You wait for your professor to turn towards the projector and quickly flip the screen up. Shoko’s contact stares back at you, causing your brow to furrow. She should know you’re in class, which has you wondering if it’s urgent.

Deciding to send a text just to check in on her, you decline the call and open your texts, only to be met with a message from her before you can send anything. The typing bubble is barely there for a second before ‘PICK UP’ is written across your screen. Anxiety rushes through your veins at the sight of the text and you quickly and quietly pack up, excusing yourself.

Your professor shoots you a disappointed side-eye, but you can handle that later.

Carefully shutting the door behind you, you don’t even get to redial Shoko’s number before her name is lighting up your screen again.

“Thank god,” she breathes when the line connects. “Where are you?”

“Shoko, I was in class,” you groan. “I’m at the Business Lecture Hall- what’s going on? Are you okay?” You ask, speeding through details to ensure your best friend’s alright.

“Oh shit, my bad. I thought you were between classes right now,” she mumbles. You can practically hear the wince in her voice over the phone at the realization that she’s pulled you out of yet another class, and you’ll need to make up for that time again. “Yeah, we’re fine,” she brushes you off. “Kento and I are on the way, stay put.”

She hangs up before you have a chance to question her. Bewildered, you blink at your screen as the call disconnects. What the hell? Shoko’s just about the most easy going person you spend time with, she’s never usually like this.

Sighing, you slip out of the lecture building out into the early spring sun. It’s finally beginning to warm up and you find yourself only needing a light jacket now at most, which is refreshing. Birds sing high above you, soaring through the thin layer of clouds and basking in the golden sun of the mid-afternoon. The trees rustle with each gust of wind, sending loose blossoms to the ground to the delight of the rodents scurrying along the ground.

Taking a seat on a bench in the sun, you bask in the warmth and let out a breath, attempting to hold back the concern that Shoko’s causing you. You have enough on your plate without drowning yourself in ‘what if’s in the short time it takes for her to reach your side.

You kick your feet out slightly as she comes within earshot from the direction of the Medical Faculty, along with a stoic Kento. “Hey-”

“Sukuna’s related to Noritoshi Kamo?” She questions, eyes wide with concern for you, while also dropping news on you that you… can’t say you’re aware of.

“What?”

“That asshole who runs Kamo Corp- Sukuna’s related to him? Doesn’t he know about your scholarship? Who the hell does he think he is to mess with you like that?” She throws questions at you left and right with no opportunity to get a grasp on them.

“Um-” your confused gaze shifts to Kento, whose expression has hardened, unreadable. Finding no answers in his expression, you lift your shoulders in uncertainty. “I don’t know? He’s never mentioned it, if he is.”

Shoko is a woman on a mission as she pulls her phone from her jean pocket, tapping a couple of times on the screen before flipping her phone towards you. Reaching out, you take it from her, reading the headline of the news article she’s pulled up on her screen. It’s dim, and difficult to read in the sun, so you attempt to block the light from your eyes with one hand to get a better view of it.

Noritoshi Kamo Debuts New Marriage and Kids During SXSW Conference Surprise Appearance!

Your throat tightens and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach as you slide your thumb down the screen. You’re faced with three familiar faces and one you’ve seen only on social media.

You suck in a hiss through your teeth as the photo sinks in. You recognize Noritoshi Kamo, the face of tech, innovation, and media, standing with an arm around none other than Kaori. Choso and Yuji are standing between them, both clearly trying to put on a brave face to the best of their abilities.

You’re almost certain both kids have had tailored clothes made for them, their hair done to perfection and from what you can tell they’ve even used makeup to hide the dark circles under Choso’s eyes.

Twelve. He’s twelve goddamn years old. And that makes you want to cry.

He looks tired. In fact, it makes him look a lot like Sukuna when his gaze is distant like that as he wraps an arm protectively around his little brother while also trying to cope, himself. Yuji is wide-eyed, that familiar childlike wonder plastered across his face as it always is, but there’s a crease between his brows as he barely manages to mask his confusion and discomfort.

Yuji may enjoy being the center of attention when it comes to school and his friends, but this isn’t a world he ever expressed any interest in. He likes attention, but when his version of attention is you, Sukuna, and Choso, or maybe a small group of school friends at most, you get the feeling this is overwhelming even for him.

And then there’s the burning anger and dismay you feel at the sight of Kaori’s wide and confident grin alongside her husband.

“Oh my god, my scholarship,” you whisper in horror as Shoko’s questions all finally click. Anxiety courses through you like a river, climbing your spine and forming a lump at the back of your throat that you can’t swallow. Between the horrified kids and the risk of losing not only your scholarship, but your diploma, your job, hell, even your parents’ approval… It’s a lot to take in.

You skim the article, which is made up of nothing more than commendations for the CEO that’s notorious for poor decisions and scummy business practices. It sings the praises of him marrying a ‘single mother taking care of two young children by herself’, all while going on and on about how cute and sweet the two kids are.

It makes you sick to your stomach as you finally lift your gaze to stare in bewilderment at Shoko.

“Sukuna’s not related to him,” you breathe, finally understanding where Shoko’s accusation is coming from, as well as the reasoning behind Kento’s hardened expression as he keeps all of Sukuna’s secrets to himself. “That’s his step-mom. She took the kids from him last week in court,” you murmur. You know it isn’t exactly your place to tell Shoko, but at this point the web of secrets that Sukuna’s weaved runs so deep it’s affecting not only you, the kids, Toji, and Uraume, but all of your friends. The last thing you need is another misunderstanding after the whole bar fiasco the other day.

You know Shoko’s just worried about your scholarship when it’s all you rant about throughout the week while you text, and at this point you’d rather she’s in on everything. Realistically, there’s no way to hide this from her anymore, and honestly? You could use her surprisingly cunning perspective. Especially now that you’re more involved than ever in the ever-unfolding disaster of Sukuna’s life.

Your scholarship isn’t just on the line anymore due to your grades, it’s hanging by a thread. As if the world wasn’t cruel enough on Sukuna, you know that if he realizes that you have a Kamo scholarship, he’ll feel guilty too, on top of everything else. He tried to protect you from Kaori as much as he could, but by complete happenstance, it seems you’re in her clutches now, too. Knowing what little you do about her, she’s well aware of her chokehold on you, as well.

“You’re kidding,” Shoko deadpans, her jaw slightly ajar with disbelief. “What happened?”

You can’t say for sure if telling her is the right answer. Sukuna’s kept this from everyone for a reason, but what are you supposed to do? You’re tangled so deeply in this too, now, and the writing’s on the wall- or, well, Shoko’s phone screen. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what exactly happened between Sukuna’s latest outburst and these photos.

Sighing as you concede, you stare down at your shoes. “This lady in the photo is the kids’ mom. Her name’s Kaori. She abandoned them all when um-” you chew on your lip, searching for a way to omit the fact that Sukuna’s dad’s dead, though you know Shoko can put the pieces together regardless. “- when they needed her most. She showed up a few months ago with a lawsuit to take guardianship from Sukuna.”

“And she won?” Shoko gapes at the revelation.

You nod bleakly. “She played dirty. All of her evidence and claims were fake, but Sukuna didn’t have any way to prove it. It was her word against his.”

“And she just so happens to be married to billionaire asshole Noritoshi Kamo,” your friend scoffs, shaking her head. “I was just scared he’d put your scholarship at risk after everything you did for him, I didn’t realize…” She trails off, shaking her head as reality sinks in for all three of you. Kento remains silent at Shoko’s side, though he appears to be pondering the situation, as well.

You grimace, taking in the photo on Shoko’s phone screen once more before returning it to her. “The kids look so scared,” you murmur.

“Do you suppose this is why she returned out of the blue?” Kento queries thoughtfully as he takes a seat on the bench beside you. “Sukuna didn’t seem convinced that she wanted the children for a good reason.”

Before you can reply, Shoko chimes in. “Hang on, are you and Sukuna buddies now?” She blinks in disbelief as Kento so casually mentions Sukuna.

“Not quite. Sukuna needed me to connect him with my friend in the law program,” he succinctly explains, leaning back against the bench and crossing his legs. “I figured it was better that you hear about this all from her rather than me, though.”

“I thought I missed, like, a major development somewhere along the way,” she chuckles. “Sorry, go on.”

You smile at Shoko before turning your attention back to the question at hand. “I mean… I don’t want to believe that’s the only reason,” you murmur, exchanging a concerned glance with each of your friends. “But after meeting her, I honestly think it might be.”

“You really think a mother would use her kids as publicity?” Shoko asks, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“You should have met her,” you shake your head at the mere thought. “Some of the things she said, the way she said them-” you shiver at the thought of her serpentine glare. “She’s the kind of person you see on TV and think they can’t be real,” you draw a comparison, sighing at the thought. “Yuji doesn’t even know her. She’s been gone almost as long as he’s been alive.”

Shoko groans in disgust. “And now they’re on the front page of Wired magazine.”

“This is a magazine too?”

Kento hums an affirmation. “That’s how I found the article,” he explains. “I intended to show Shoko an article I found in class about that Fintech that I applied to, but this was on the front page of their site.”

“God,” you gasp in horror. “Choso would never want this.”

“I’m willing to wager a bet neither of them do,” Kento tacks on. “I highly doubt Sukuna will take it well, either.”

And just when he was beginning to get a hold on his life.

You throw your head back in exasperation. “You’re right…” You can’t bear the thought of him trying to handle this on his own, either. “I’ll head over to his place tonight.”

“How’s he handling things, anyway?” Shoko grimaces. “His, uh, outburst at the bar makes more sense now that I know he lost the kids.”

“He’s actually been pretty good the last few days,” you reply thoughtfully, letting your gaze wander to the gnarled trunk of a big tree to your right. “I don’t think this will help, though,” you add, tapping your nails on the worn wood beneath your thighs.

Shoko hums in agreement and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket. The cheap lighter clicks a number of times despite visibly having fluid in the tank. “Stupid thing,” she mutters before it finally ignites. Sucking in a breath of nicotine, she exhales straight overhead to avoid getting smoke in either your or Kento’s faces.

“You know, given your program, you should know the risks-” Kento attempts to scold her.

“My major is exactly why I smoke,” Shoko interrupts, a knowing gleam in her eye. “That, and being friends with Satoru.”

That earns an amused chuckle from Kento, who sympathizes with that feeling.

Shoko lets out a puff of smoke off to the side. Silence settles over your friends as you find yourself focusing on the ember at the tip of Shoko’s cigarette. It burns like a setting sun with each inhalation, dimming when she holds it carefully between her fingers.

“You want a drag?” She asks, catching you staring.

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Is he trying to appeal? Could this not be considered solid evidence?” Kento points out, thoughtfully tapping his chin. “Between not knowing the identity of his step-mom’s husband, and SXSW-” he pauses, waving a hand pointedly through the air, “- I would say some form of child endangerment is involved.”

“I mean, probably,” you hum in agreement, “but I think the real issue now is getting a fair trial. Kamo Corp. is so involved in politics in every country,” you muse, “they practically own the courts, that’s how they get away with so much,” you point out, wrinkling your nose as you consider some of the horrifying accusations against the company you’ve seen over the years. Each time, they’re always swept under the rug, and somehow, poor Sukuna has gotten caught up in their crosshairs, soon to be another buried case. “He needs evidence that can’t be disputed. One little crack in the evidence and Kaori seemed to be able to find a way to fight it.”

“You think this could be disputed?” Shoko queries, pulling up her phone in one hand to stare down the article, while her cigarette dangles in the other hand. “The kids look scared. Even if Kamo Corp. owns the courts, anyone with a heart can see they’re not happy.”

“I don’t know…” you lean back against the bench, chewing on your lip. “The more I think about the trial, the more I don’t think Sukuna ever stood a chance,” you mumble, examining the thin clouds drifting overhead. “The look the judge gave Sukuna at the start, I thought it was just because of his tattoos at first, but…” you shake your head. “I’m not so sure, anymore.”

Kento crosses his arms over his chest. “Can you get in front of a jury, somehow?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know how that works.”

“Either way, this could be something, right?” Shoko asks, blowing a puff of smoke into the air.

“It’s the most hope we’ve had since he lost them,” you agree with a nod.

Shoko scrutinizes the brick over your head as she considers the repercussions on you of everything going on in Sukuna’s life. “What do you think are the odds his step-mom knows who you are? Do you think your scholarship’s fucked?”

Kento grimaces at your side as you sigh and shrug dramatically. “I wouldn’t put it past her to do her research. She gives me a bad feeling.”

“Well, shit.”

The laugh you crack at Shoko’s exclamation is humorless, nothing but a way to cope with the bleak revelations.

“This is quite the web you’ve gotten yourself caught up in,” Kento comments, a sympathetic thin-lipped smile aimed at you.

“Can you believe this is because of a project?” You chuckle to yourself. “At the start of this year, I swear my biggest worries were whether Sukuna would even show up for our project and now…” you shake your head. “What a mess.”

“Okay wait, can we talk about what the odds were of it being Kamo Corp that you have a scholarship from?” Shoko points out. “What the fuck is up with that?”

“I must have angered a god in a past life,” you laugh. “I can figure something out for that, though,” you sigh, rubbing a hand up and down your bicep. “I’ll take out a loan or something,” you murmur thoughtfully. “If my parents don’t kill me first.”

Kento frowns, setting a large hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll do my best to help however I can,” he offers. “I’d prefer knowing you don’t need to take out a loan,” he adds, being a finance major, and all.

“Me too,” Shoko nods fervently.

“Thanks, guys,” you grin at your closest friends. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s true,” Shoko agrees with a coy smile. “We’re the best.”

Kento blows a breath out from his nose, amused. “Humble, Shoko,” he teases, with a modest smirk that only Kento can make look as easy as he does. He turns his attention to you, reassuring. “Happy to be here for you. Even if that means the lot of you paint my nails more often than I’d prefer.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Shoko teases. “You used to paint them yourself, you can’t convince me you’re spending any extra money on nail polish remover,” she snorts, dropping her cigarette to the pavement and crushing it beneath the sole of her shoes. “I bet you had some left over.”

“For the record, I just had to buy a new bottle,” he frowns, though the glimmer of amusement remains in his irises.

Shoko scoffs, though she shares a smile. “Oh, boohoo. I’ll send you four dollars.”

Kento rolls his eyes without scorn, an easy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”

It’s little moments like these, small pockets between the madness you’ve found yourself launched into that help you keep your head above water. You’re grateful to your friends for their unwavering support, even if sometimes that means pulling you out of class under the guise that they would need to fight Sukuna for his involvement in your life. You’re glad that didn’t end up needing to be the case.

In fact, even as you watched Sukuna slowly lose himself to grief and fear, one thing remained steady and constant. Your friendship. He kept every promise he made to you, and even now, he continues to. No matter how deep his struggles become, he shows you at every turn that he’s learned from his mistakes and is trying to better himself from them.

He’s trying. And that’s all you could ever ask of him.

As Shoko continues to poke and prod at Kento beside you, purposefully getting under his skin, you find yourself smiling. Sure, you have just about the shittiest news to deliver to Sukuna, your scholarship is more than just on-the-line amongst other issues, but you have a great group of people looking out for you, and so does Sukuna, and that warms your heart.

–

You can tell you accidentally stressed Sukuna out with your text that you needed to talk to him. Admittedly, ‘Hey, can we talk?’ absolutely deserved the confused and distressed responses you received.

4:43 PM Kuna || ??

4:43 PM Kuna || im at work princess

4:44 PM Kuna || i have a shift at the shop after this til 10

And admittedly, accidentally forgetting to check your phone for an hour probably didn’t help, either.

5:03 PM Kuna || ??

5:09 PM Kuna || whats wrong

5:34 PM Kuna || christ youre stressing me out

5:49 PM Kuna || im not supposed to have my phone here

5:49 PM Kuna || fuck

5:50 PM Kuna || youre killing me

5:54 PM Kuna || do i need to call you

When you had finally finished catching up on the class that Shoko and Kento pulled you out of, it was only then that you realized you’d left him hanging.

5:58 PM You || Omg I’m so sorry

5:58 PM You || I’m okay!! Just need to show you something after work

You decide to keep the subject matter to yourself after reading through the slew of texts. If this is how he reacts to accidentally leaving him hanging for an hour, you don’t want to imagine how he’d handle the knowledge that what you have to show him is more serious than you’re letting on.

You show up about forty minutes after he said he would be home, well aware you’ll probably regret your late night outing tomorrow morning when you’re sitting in class. Given that the alternative is that Sukuna learns about Kaori’s motives at work tomorrow or happens to find it alone, this just seems like the better option.

He lets you into the building without question, opening the door to his unit for you before you’re even there as though he was waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet him as you’re met with an immeasurable scowl.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that shit again,” he grumbles, clearly tired and grumpy. You can’t really blame him when you know you would have spiralled as well if he sent you something like that.

“Sorry,” you mumble, smiling apologetically at him.

He huffs, waving his hand to let you know to make yourself at home as if you don’t already know that. He pushes his hand through damp hair, having freshly showered with only a muscle shirt and a pair of sweats clinging to him.

“Want anything?” He asks as he pulls a protein drink of some sort out of the fridge.

“Um-” you pause in thought as Sukuna leans over and the deep-cut sleeveless top puts his abs on full display. Damn him for being stupidly hot. “No, that’s okay.”

He hums, plopping down on the couch and cracking his drink open. You follow shortly behind him, gingerly sitting beside him and pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“So, listen,” you begin, pulling the article up. Sukuna eyes you with a frown, straightening at the realization that this is meant to be a serious talk. “Sho and Ken pulled me aside today, they found this article, and um-” you suck in a breath “- I think it’s best if I just show you.”

You tilt the phone towards him. Setting his drink on the coffee table, he leans forward on his knees as he scrutinizes the article, taking the phone from you. He’s silent as he reads the headline, pausing as he instantly recognizes Kaori in the top of the photo. He knows what’s below, but he can hardly bring himself to scroll down.

Sure enough, there they are. Choso looks downright terrified, while Yuji just seems confused under the harsh camera flash. The poor boys are nothing more than accessories to one of the richest assholes on the planet, and Sukuna’s step-mother, deserving of a title far worse than even Noritoshi Kamo.

He stares, for a good long while, his grip on your phone growing increasingly shaky when he finally lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Attempting to center himself, he sucks in a breath again and scrolls down.

It takes him long enough to read through the article that you feel your own nerves ready to combust. You watch as he reaches the bottom and attempts to scroll down a couple of times to no avail, when finally he explodes.

“Fuck!” He snarls, dropping your phone on the couch and pushing to his feet. He accidentally knocks the coffee table forward before rounding the couches where he stands and stares out into the darkness outside the window.

You twist on the couch to get a better look at him. He’s facing away from you, his back rising and falling at a fast pace, when he suddenly twists on his heel and practically barrels towards the front door. He snatches his keys out of the little bowl they usually sit in, and is out the door before you can even process what just happened.

Blinking, you move quickly and follow him out into the hall, with no time to even worry about the unlocked door. “Sukuna!”

He falters only for a second, but he’s way ahead of you as he jogs down the stairs at a pace faster than you can manage on your shorter legs. You bound down the stairs behind him as quickly as you can, catching him only when he finally is forced to a halt once he reaches the dark parking lot and reality settles in.

“Where are you going?” You breathlessly question, managing to get a hold of the hem of his shirt to stop him from running off again.

His jaw hangs ajar as he gets his bearings, his grip on his keys turning his knuckles white. “She’s fucking using them,” he hisses, evaluating his surroundings as though he’s planning some sort of escape, but can’t place where to go.

“I know,” you murmur, sliding your hand from the hem of his shirt up to his spine in an attempt to soothe his distress. Safe to say that it doesn’t help much when he just uselessly shrugs.

“That fucking bitch, I can’t-” he pulls away from you, raking a hand through pink strands. He exhales loudly, lowering his hand from his hair as it balls into a fist, shaking with anger at his side. Each breath he takes is labored, a conscious effort to remember to inhale as he stares out at the parking lot. The light overhead has been flickering for months and continues to do so now, painting you both in intermittent darkness. With each loss of light, you swear you see another break in the facade that was once carefully crafted, now held together with duct tape and string. “What the fuck- What do I-?” He breathes out.

All of Sukuna’s thoughts point towards getting in the old family car and driving wherever he needs to be to spare his brothers the trauma of whatever the fuck this is that Kaori seems to think is acceptable. Sukuna’s no celebrity, he doesn’t know what it means to shield his eyes from the blinding attention of the paparazzi. He’s never had to bear the burden of hiding from the public eye and shield those he loves most from a tumultuous world of tabloids, press, and high expectations.

But then again, neither has Kaori. And it would seem that she doesn’t care to, either. If she did, she wouldn’t have put his little brothers on the front page of every technology news site for the world to see. She doesn’t care about their wellbeing. If she ever did, none of this would have happened. She would have left them all alone.

But that’s not the reality he lives in. He doesn’t get to be a hero, he doesn’t get to shield his brothers from that life. He doesn’t even get to be a part of their lives anymore. What the fuck is he even trying to do right now? He doesn’t have a car. He sold that for a stack of cash to pay off old medical debt. He doesn’t even have an address that he could run to. Kaori never gave him one after cancelling his visitation meeting.

And what would it matter, if she had given him one? His brothers aren’t even in the city. It’s hardly been two weeks and they’re at some conference, probably being ogled over by dozens of rich moguls, all looking to suck up to Mr. Kamo himself.

The keyring in his hands slips down around his middle finger, jingling as it dangles from the digit. Like a wind chime, the keys briefly break up the sounds of engines in the distance, the occasional screech of tires on asphalt, and a stray cricket or two as the metal keys clank at his side.

He lets out a breath, tension and frustration burning so hot that it sucks the air straight from his lungs. With his next inhalation mangled, he hunches slightly, shutting his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth in an effort to even himself out before he takes his frustration out on his poor lighter again.

In.

Out.

He breathes deeply, just like you would tell him to.

But fuck is he ever angry.

The anger, the pain, the guilt, it’s suffocating. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but his skin itches and crawls with the desire to turn tail and flee back into his apartment. His feet could take him right where he wants to be without so much as a second thought. The locked drawer at his bedside. The one where he keeps that stupid party favor mini bottle of Everclear, tucked under the letter from his father as the newest addition to the drawer, alongside a few blunts and a couple of bags of weed gummies.

But he shouldn’t. His mind and body scream two different things at him, so desperate to silence the thorns that dig deeper into his psyche, while also trying to be better. Trying to be the brother that keeps his promises, but he can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. The path winds and curves, and he swears with each step the air grows more shallow, further from any signs of a win.

You watch quietly as he sorts his thoughts, grateful when his breathing begins to even, but when he turns towards you, bathed in the soft glow of the flickering light and the moon overhead, you can tell that he doesn’t see a way out of this. Resigned to defeat, he seems lost again as he examines your expression.

“You know,” you take a step forward, “this isn’t such a bad thing for you, if you think about it.”

He shoots you a look somewhere between bewilderment and fury.

“No no no! I mean- It’s not good in general,” you backtrack, “I just mean like, it’s good for your case.” You wince at your fumbled explanation.

“How the fuck is this good for me?” He hisses, hoarse.

“Did you see those photos? Choso’s terrified. That’s gotta be enough of a push of child endangerment to get the kids back to you,” you point out.

Sukuna feels his blood run cold and his body shiver at the mention of Choso’s expression, but he doesn’t let it show. “Yeah, if I can somehow get back in a courtroom,” he scoffs. “Everything about the trial makes a lot more sense knowin’ what kind of money Kaori was using.”

The kind of money that runs countries.

He drags his hand through his hair with enough force to send a ripple of pain through his scalp. It distracts from the pain in his chest, at least. “She’ll fuckin’ pay someone to deny my appeal,” he mumbles.

“So you’re just gonna give up?” You shrug in dismay, casting a glance at the flickering light as it clicks and finally burns out, leaving you only in the dim glow of moonlight.

“I didn’t-” he sighs, dragging his fingers across his brow. “‘M not giving up,” he mutters. “This just seems like bad fucking news.”

“I mean, look at it this way. If you can get back in the courtroom, this is great evidence. Anyone can see how scared they are. Plus, maybe we can find something on when they started dating now that we know who her husband is, right?” You point out, craning your neck to get a better view of your friend’s face in the dim light. “Maybe we can find proof that she cheated on your dad.”

He blinks at you, sighing. He ponders your words, letting the sounds of the city drown out his less reassuring thoughts. “Yeah, I guess. I can talk to my lawyer tomorrow.” He rolls his shoulders, and you hear them crack with the movement as he makes his best attempt at easing the muscles in his shoulders. “Just wish I could go-” he motions uselessly in the air with his arm, his keys jingling before they fall back to his side. “I dunno. Pick them up, fix this shit without all the legal bullshit.” He stares out at the parking lot once more, lost in thought as the images of his brothers at the SXSW red carpet fill his mind.

“I know, me too,” you murmur, chewing on your lip. “Hey, why don’t we go for a walk?” You offer, hoping it might cure that itch to go somewhere. Maybe a change of scenery will take his mind off of things long enough for him to keep his sanity.

He ends up nodding, surrendering to the saccharine sweetness of your voice, although he didn’t hear a word you said. He simply follows as you beckon him out into the cool night air, just warm enough to not need a jacket.

He’s not sure it really matters what you said. You remain the light that guides him through the storm, and he’ll follow you through the dark no matter where you bring him. Even in moments where he attempts to pull away from you, he always finds himself back here, embracing the warm glow of your kindness.

Or is it your love?

He’s not sure.

He’s too cowardly to confront that possibility.

In an effort to keep both of your minds off the looming issues at hand and give the news a chance to sink in, you launch into a conversation about the book you’re editing. A picture book about a ladybug and a spider and their unconventional friendship. It’ll never cross Sukuna’s desk, since he only does covers, but you’ve been enjoying the series and figure it’s a light enough subject to keep his mind at bay.

He doesn’t have much to say, the occasional hum or grunt the only indication he gives that he is, in fact, listening.

You don’t mind, either way. Chattering like this offers you a much-needed distraction, too. It keeps your mind off the kids, and your scholarship. You know you shouldn’t keep to yourself the fact that it’s a Kamo scholarship, but you can only imagine all the ways Sukuna will find to blame himself for something he has less than no control over.

Sukuna keeps his eyes forward as you lead him on a walk to god-knows-where. You don’t know where you’re going and neither does he, making a mental map as you twist down pathways until you find a small open park to walk through.

Under the pale glow of moonlight, you look like a goddamn angel. He considers for a moment that in a sense you are. Like a guardian sent straight from heaven and dropped into his life to keep him from himself. He doesn’t think he deserves the kindness and respect you show him, but the feeling fluttering in his chest and stomach is one that he doesn’t squash. It’s welcome, in comparison to the debilitating crushing feeling he’s grown painfully accustomed to.

Within the gleam of your eyes, he sees something else, though. Something that squashes those stupid butterflies for him. He sees uncertainty, doubt, and weariness that nearly matches his own. You seem to be hiding it in favor of preserving… what, exactly? Sukuna’s well-being?

If he asks, he doesn’t think you’ll tell the truth. You’re no liar, but if it saves someone the hurt, you’ll skirt around the truth. He’s seen you do it before to spare his ego when talking with your friends, and he’s more than positive you’ll do it again if you deem it necessary.

What’s even more humiliating is that he still tries to ask, but as he opens his mouth, the words die on his tongue. He hates to think that you might lie, but somehow facing reality and giving him a straight answer hurts more. The endless pile of responsibilities looming over him already causes him so much pain, he’s not sure he can bear any more. How is he meant to carry on his shoulders the weight of knowing that you might be drowning silently beside him and he can’t fix that either, despite being right here with you?

How is he meant to carry that burden knowing that he caused it?

The late nights, the missed classes, the low grades, they’re all his fault. Have your parents called yet, angry? Has the school spoken to you yet about your scholarship? Would you even tell him, if he asked? He knows you hid from him the real reason that you forgot to hand in your paper to spare him the guilt. If you can’t even admit that, why would you give him a straight answer to any of your other questions?

He huffs suddenly. Why is he contemplating it anyway, when he’s too cowardly to ask if you’re okay?

You trail off from your tangent about Yuki’s tendency to gossip, your train of thought lost as Sukuna makes a show of his frustration. “What’s up?” You query, nudging him to grab his attention.

You gain his scowl, his eyes flickering around your face as if committing it to memory. “Too much shit going on right now,” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No kidding,” you sigh. “I knew my last year would be busy, but this isn’t what I had in mind,” you chuckle.

Sukuna frowns. You would never pin the blame on him. You’re too sweet. So he does it himself. “I tried to keep you out of this shit,” he points out.

“It worked well,” you tease without a second thought, shooting him a pointed look with a little quirk of your lips.

He hums, and although he knows you’ll never place any blame on him (no, he’ll blame himself in place of you), he finds himself grateful that you’re so stubborn when it comes to him.

“Feeling any better?” You ask, softer now.

He pushes his hair back off of his forehead. “Right now I’m fine, but in the grand scheme o’ things, no,” he chuckles bitterly. “I can’t fucking believe she’s usin’ them. I can’t-” he huffs out a breath, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “Fuck,” he grumbles, dragging his hand down his face. Stubble left to grow for the third day scratches his palm, a reminder of just how behind he is on everything.

You offer an understanding smile. “I get it,” you reply softly, staring up at whatever stars are bright enough to shine even over the light pollution of the city. “It’s frustrating that politics and money have so much of an effect on something so simple.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief at your side as you manage to word his thoughts so eloquently. “You think she paid people off to make sure she won?”

You drag your foot on the ground as you take a step, staring thoughtfully into the trees that line the winding path you’re leading the way down. “I think…” You pause, considering the implication of what she would have needed to do in order to guarantee victory. “I do, honestly.” You narrow your eyes slightly, lowering your gaze to the ground. “I don’t think it ever really mattered that she brought Choso’s teacher into things. I think you lost before the trial started. His teacher was just a cover-up to make it look real, I bet.”

He nods slowly, rubbing at his eyes. “Pisses me off so fuckin’ much,” he hisses under his breath. “She fucking left!” He explodes suddenly, anger directed at no one in particular, though his hand collides with a massive tree as he flails it through the air. “Fuck!” He hisses, staring down at his hand to see the damage. Scrapes fall across his knuckles haphazardly where his hand collided with the bark, but not hard enough to draw blood.

He shakes his hand, but the pain only serves to piss him off more.

“Are you o-”

“She didn’t fucking answer!” He continues to snarl, his anger only rising as his hand now throbs with pain that he wants to write off as mild, but- “Christ, what the fuck?” He growls, staring down at his hand in the glow of a streetlight overhead. He flexes the digits twice, but he still doesn’t bleed.

“Are you okay, um- Ryo?”

His eyes flicker briefly up to you, unable to read what he’s thinking as you address him by his first name. He doesn’t press the issue much longer, fixated on his hand. “Hit it harder than I thought,” he mutters, inadvertently answering your question.

You take his hand, gently turning it towards the orange glow of the overhead lamp you’re standing under. No blood is a relief, just a few scrapes rubbing his skin raw, but he must have hit it hard based on the way his skin is beginning to shift to a dull purple already.

“It really jumped out and bit you, huh?” You murmur, mostly to yourself in a mildly teasing manner. Sukuna fixes you with a glare, but the tension that’s been making the veins in his forearms pop slowly begins to dissipate. At the realization that his frustration towards your teasing is quelling his anger towards the world and himself, you double down. “Need me to kiss it better?” You chide, doing your best to hide your giggles.

Sukuna’s stare intensifies, and for once he’s grateful to be surrounded by darkness, because now he’s pissed for an entirely different reason. He’s blushing.

Fiercely.

He’s never been so happy to be hidden by the blanket of the night as he is right now, blushing like a goddamn teenager.

Over some stupid teasing.

Teasing that shouldn’t- doesn’t- mean anything.

His anger is completely forgotten as he wrenches his hand from your hold, shaking it in an attempt to rid himself of the pain while he averts his gaze. He simmers in his newfound frustration while you burst into laughter at his side.

“It really came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” You manage to get out between your giggles, clutching at your stomach. He pins you with a furious side eye, but it doesn’t deter you. As your laughter slowly begins to die down, you wave your hand nonchalantly through the air. “No, I get it. It was a really small tree.”

“Are you done?” He grumbles, crimson eyes flickering across your features, which are now seemingly brighter than the glow of the light above. He swears he hasn’t seen you this happy in ages and for once, he can’t find it in himself to remain irritated with you, even if he’s at the center of your jokes. He sighs, resuming his steady pace down the path.

You jog to catch up, unable to help your grin. “Okay, okay. I’m done,” you give in, tilting your head up at him briefly to smile. His brow twitches as he watches, and you swear you can just barely make out a pale dusting of rosy red over his cheeks.

It’s nice to see a little life in him.

Sukuna casts his gaze over to you. Your eyes shine like they belong with the stars themselves as you look up at him and he finds himself turning to meet your gaze. He watches the way your jaw shifts slightly as you thoughtfully chew on the inside of your cheek. He’s seen you do it before, and wonders when he began noticing little details. 

He wonders what’s going through your mind, he even considers that you might just tell him the truth if he asked right now given your jovial expression. You don’t normally keep what’s making you happy to yourself. He likes that about you.

As if reading his mind, you tilt your head. That little head tilt that he thinks he’s grown too fond of and it sends his heart spiralling, throwing him off-kilter. His lips purse and he finds his pupils darting wildly around your face, settling on your lips. A scowl paints his expression once more as Uraume’s words come back to him and he finds himself second-guessing every touch and quip that he’s brushed off for the past couple of weeks.

His fist clenches at his side in growing frustration over his confusion when-

“You’re going gray, by the way.”

“... What?” He deflates, so baffled by your comment that every question and frustration growing within him dissolves in an instant.

You attempt to hide your smirk as you repeat yourself. “You’re going gray.”

While comforting words and lingering touches seem to put his anger temporarily at bay, teasing him like the back and forth you used to have months ago before all the drama actually seems to dissolve the tension in his body.

So, as you see frustration building in the crease of his brow, you decide to double down and tease him more.

And it works.

“The fuck?” He fixes you with a bewildered stare, but the tension in his muscles is completely gone. It’s not just a glimpse of the man you’ve grown to love that’s staring at you now, it’s him. In his entirety. Even if only for a moment, you find him. He finds himself.

Offense reads in the lines etched into his forehead, but his eyes read of playfulness. Genuine, and real.

“I noticed it when we went to grab coffee the other day,” you shrug.

“Why are you pointing it out?” He grumbles with what could almost be labelled as a pout.

“Mostly just to get a rise out of you and get your mind off of things,” you offer with a grin. “Is it working?”

Sukuna ignores your question, huffing. “So, to be a little shit?”

You can’t help your giggles as you grin. “Mmm, sure!”

“That’s it,” he grumbles, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and chest before you can protest. You grasp at his forearm, squeaking in surprise as he pulls you against him, playfully prodding and poking at your head, mockingly counting your gray hairs.

“Hey!” You manage through your laughter, attempting to pull out of his grasp and dodge his poking.

“One, two, three,” he counts, his tone turning somber as though he’s about to give you a bad diagnosis. “Damn. Your whole head will be gray by next week. Too bad,” you feel him shrug against you as he doesn’t so much as break a sweat from all of your writhing.

“Okay, okay!” You insist, pulling against his forearm again in an attempt to free yourself. “I’m done, I swear! I’m sorry!” You insist, unable to help your laughter even so.

He finally releases you, watching with a small smile as you regain your balance, fixing him with a playful glare as you smooth your hair. “Dick,” you murmur teasingly.

“Mhm,” he simply agrees, shoving his hands in his pockets as he takes his place at your side again, continuing down the path.

Though it’s all a temporary respite, he doesn’t feel so lost around you right now. You help more than you could ever know, and he’s not quite sure how to repay that debt.

With a content sigh, you both carry on down the path, getting further from his apartment. You chime in every now and then with random thoughts or details, just things to pass the time with no urgency. In truth, you’re just grateful that Sukuna didn’t take the news quite as poorly as you were anticipating. Of course, this is just the beginning of a bigger problem, but at least until he can speak with his lawyer, there’s hope.

More hope than there was yesterday.

Still, Sukuna notices a shift as you make your way up a path that leads back to the park where the tree attacked him. You’re getting quieter. Not the kind of content, serene quiet that he’s accustomed to from you either, you’re wearing out. Your feet drag, the soles of your shoes scuffing the pavement below as you send gravel flying every which way with each step. When a stray pebble hits Sukuna’s ankle, he raises a brow at you.

“What time’s your first class tomorrow?”

“Eight,” you yawn.

“Princess,” he sighs, pulling out his phone. “It’s two.”

“That’s okay,” you brush him off with a sleepy smile. “I’ll just have some coffee.”

He frowns. You smile with so much ease, as though the world isn’t pressing down around you too, by Sukuna’s hand. “We’re at least twenty minutes from your car and your place is still ten away from mine,” he points out.

“That’s alright,” you insist, yawning again. “I’ll live.”

The crease between his brows deepens. As hypocritical as it is of him, he pushes back. “Shit, no, you can’t keep doing this. Your scholarship-”

“Is fine,” you interrupt with the best smile you can muster. You continue to omit information about Kamo’s involvement in your schooling. At this point, you figure your scholarship is just fucked and that’s something that you’ll face when it comes to it. The most you can do now is just try to keep your grades up, and maybe if you’re lucky the school will jump in… or something.

It’s wishful thinking at best.

Sukuna sighs at your side. “Fine. Stay at mine, then.”

You nearly trip over your own feet, narrowly catching yourself. “What?” You query, blinking owlishly up at him.

Cute.

“Save yourself some sleep,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I-” you blink. Your laptop is in your car still so you could, but- “I have nothing to wear, and I’ll need to shower, and-”

They’re weak excuses and you both know it. “Relax, princess. I’ll take the couch, n’ you can raid my closet.”

“Your clothes won’t fit, I still won’t have anything to wear tomorrow for class, though-” you continue to hesitate, fiddling with your thumbs as you look down at the only outfit you have. After wearing this set of clothes to school already, you’re not sure you want to be seen wearing it again.

Sukuna blows a breath out through his nose in a hint of a laugh. “It’s one day. You’ll survive. Take a pair of sweats and a hoodie.”

“I- um-” You chew on your lip, heart hammering in your ears. Everything about this night so far, and Sukuna himself, it’s all so strangely intimate and you’re not sure what to make of the warmth he continues to show you, growing increasingly sweet with each moment. “I don’t-”

“Princess,” he interrupts. “Relax. No one will judge you for an oversized hoodie.”

You peer up at him from under your lashes. “I feel like ‘oversized’ is generous,” you mumble, making a motion from the top of your head to his.

He smirks at the comparison. “Just roll up the pants. It won’t be that noticeable.”

Breathing out a sigh, you finally give in. “Okay. Thanks, Ryo.”

His brow twitches, but he nods. Motioning for you to continue, he lets you take the lead back down the winding path that led you here, only chiming in when you seem uncertain of where you came from, unfamiliar with the area. Luckily, Sukuna’s been keeping track of the twists and turns you took. Your shoulders slump as you round the final corner to Sukuna’s apartment, grateful to be back.

As you near the front door, Sukuna shoves a hand in his pocket, pulling his keys out. He lets you into the main building, his hand settling on your lower back to keep your weary form moving forward. He tries to convince himself that’s the only reason that his hand subconsciously found a place on the small of your back.

He leads the way up to his door, fiddling with his keys, only for you to tiredly move past him and push through the door. He pauses, blinking at you.

“You didn’t lock it,” you explain.

He scratches the back of his neck as he follows after you, shutting the door and kicking his shoes off. He must have forgotten. “Guess I should get you a key,” he mutters to himself.

You purse your lips. Were this any other day, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It would have been helpful when you were here every other night looking after the kids, but now? What are you meant to make of it now? Before the question can leave your lips, Sukuna answers your question, though it seems almost as though he’s answering it for himself, rather than you.

“For when I get my brothers back.”

Right.

Of course.

Shuffling from side to side, you wait for Sukuna to lead the way towards his room. It’s not like you haven’t been in there, it’s not like you haven’t slept in there before, but you can’t bring yourself to barge in and raid his clothing. It just doesn’t feel right.

You follow closely behind him as he leads the way into his room, which is much messier than you’re accustomed to. It’s not dirty by any means, it just seems as though literally everything is out of place, or buried under laundry. This must be a product of his distant gazes and scattered thoughts. That, or he’s literally spending no time here and just can’t be bothered to clean it up.

Neither inspires much confidence.

He mutters a barely audible excuse to you, mentioning to mind your step as he pulls his closet open. There’s a handful of empty hangers which you’re sure is because those hoodies are strewn across the floor, and the rest of his closet consists of a wardrobe with half-open drawers and more black hoodies than you can count.

“What do you want?” He queries, moving aside for you to take a look.

You hum playfully. “I’m thinking maybe a black hoodie.”

“Smartass,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. He gives you a nudge. “Choose whatever.”

“For tonight, I think I’ll just do a T-shirt, but can I get a hoodie for tomorrow?”

Sukuna shrugs, pulling open a drawer with shirts that can just barely be called ‘folded’. You grab a black shirt on the top, holding it out in front of you only to realize it has no sleeves. You fold it again, setting it back in the drawer, only to need to follow suit with the next sleeveless shirt.

“Do you have anything with sleeves?”

“Uh-” he reaches over you, shuffling his hand through the pile until he finds an old and slightly smaller Metallica shirt with tour dates on the back, and hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you smile, tucking it under your arm before beginning to sift through his hoodies. “Did you see Metallica on tour?” You ask, searching through his hoodies. There’s a few blank black hoodies and a blank red one, a couple of older Vans designs, and boatloads of band logos and movie posters plastered across the fronts.

“Yeah, my dad took me a couple of years before he got sick. It got me more into music.”

You glance back at him with a soft smile. “Did he like classic rock?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “One of Toji n’ I’s friends had Guitar Hero growing up and I liked them a lot, so Dad got tickets,” he explains with a somewhat bittersweet half-smile.

Your heart warms at the thought of the two of them at a Metallica concert. “That sounds like fun,” you grin, deciding on a Vans hoodie with a small rose embroidered on the front and a large matching rose design on the back, somewhat reminiscent of an American Traditional tattoo. “This is cute,” you comment, holding it up to yourself. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

He hums in acknowledgement, though he doesn’t say anything, watching you hold the baggy hoodie up to yourself as you calculate your options. If you just wear the leggings you have on right now with the hoodie, it makes a pretty cute outfit. You’d prefer different pants, but Sukuna’s a big guy and you’re not sure any amount of rolling them up can save an outfit based around his sweatpants.

“This should work,” you hum, satisfied. Gathering the clothes, you make your way to the washroom, sighing as you realize you have no toothbrush or makeup remover. You opt to just wash your makeup off to the best of your ability with water, which takes entirely too long and is way too much of a hassle, when your eyes slide down to the cup with toothbrushes in them.

Is that the toothbrush you used months ago when you stayed the night?

It has to be, it looks brand new and it’s identical to the one you pulled out from the packaging months ago. Pulling it from the cup, you smooth your finger over the grip, blinking as you open the washroom door and peek your head out.

Sukuna is sprawled across the couch, scowling at his phone with his legs hanging over the end of the piece of furniture, facing towards you. “Is this mine?”

He moves his phone aside, scowl disappearing as he squints at you. He can just barely make out that you’re holding a toothbrush, somewhat blurry from where he’s laying. Damn, his vision is getting bad. “Yeah. It’s yours.”

“You kept it?” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, some sort of deeper meaning hanging in the balance of your friendship with him. The idea that he kept your toothbrush, right next to his, even while you weren’t talking hangs stiffly around your question.

Hell, you didn’t think you’d see him again. He never once reached out, you have every reason to assume that he thought the same.

He swallows, catching the subtle shift of your tone as you question his intentions. What the hell is he supposed to say? He’s not even really sure why he kept it. Some nagging voice in the back of his mind seemed to stop him every time his hand hovered over that- your- toothbrush. So it remained in the cup like a cruel reminder of his shitty actions.

Having taken entirely too long to find an answer to your question, he shrugs and returns to his phone screen in an effort to brush it off. “Didn’t think about it.”

You blink a number of times, slowly inhaling as Sukuna nonchalantly returns his attention to his phone. Padding slowly back to the washroom, lit in a dull golden color with two of the three overhead bulbs burnt out, you find yourself questioning your sanity.

Is it really so crazy to find yourself questioning his intentions when all signs point towards him caring more than if you were just a friend? Would he have kept the toothbrush if it belonged to a different friend? Are you out of your mind to say that the answer is surely no?

You’re itching to text Shoko despite the fact that the entire reason you’re here in the first place is because you should really get some sleep. Maybe you’ll send her a text in the morning… or maybe you can just sleep off the weird doubts.

As you shut the door once more, Sukuna finds himself setting his phone on his chest and staring at the ceiling. He lets his arm dangle over the side of the couch, his knuckles laying on the ground.

He figures he won’t get much sleep on the couch, but it’s not like he would have gotten much more in his own bed. Sleep doesn’t come easily to him these days. His gaze flickers blankly across the ceiling, trained on nothing in particular as he yawns. His eyes fill with tears and he shuts them purely to stop the burning of being overtired.

He can hear you puttering around in the washroom, the sounds filling the apartment that’s been a void of silence lately. The shuffling and knocking of limbs on counters and feet across the tile floor on the other end of the apartment puts him strangely at ease. As if you’ve brought a semblance of life back to the apartment, something that he never realized just how badly he needed.

The ambient noise of your nightly routine- the sound of the tap running, the sound of your toothbrush clattering back into the cup, it’s reminiscent of the sounds of his brother’s getting ready. It lifts the heaviness of the eerie silence that usually hangs in the air, allowing him to forget for one night. No alcohol necessary. No cannabis, no melatonin.

Just the sensation of no longer being so alone.

His breathing evens, his lips parting just slightly as soft snores penetrate the air when you exit the washroom.

“Hey, thanks a-” you cut yourself off, lips pursed at the sight of Sukuna sound asleep already, limbs hanging off of the couch every which way and his phone resting on his chest. You smile softly, your heart warm as he’s finally able to get some rest.

Carefully, you tip-toe to his side, gently pulling his phone from his chest and setting it on the coffee table. You twist in search of a blanket to lay over him, slipping away to grab one from the closet where you know there are some extras, before returning to his side to drape it over him. Cautious not to move too fast or too loud, you position the blanket over his chest and smile to yourself as he remains sound asleep.

“Night, Ryo,” you whisper, your hand lingering on his chest enough to feel a pang in your heart. Pulling back, you slip away and shut the door to his bedroom. Shuffling out of your leggings, you slip under the covers, the scent of him hitting you like a truck after such a jarring revelation only a few minutes ago. Hints of cologne, the faint remnants of smoke that clings to his skin and an underlying musk so Sukuna that it can only be described as such.

Your heart twists in its cage as you reach for the charger you know he keeps on the nightstand, plugging your phone in and watching the screen light up with a notice that it’s charging. You’ll text Shoko tomorrow, but for now, you find yourself tucked into the covers, surrounded by everything that you long for, except for the man himself.

You let out a breath, rubbing your eyes as your thoughts spiral and you can’t help but feel as though your mind has betrayed you. You want so badly to wake up and feel the weight of an arm draped over your middle and the soft sounds of gentle snores filling the air. You want to flip over and see the way his features have softened, the edges not quite so sharp and the creases in his forehead flattened in the soft morning light.

As your mind conjures up far too real fantasies while surrounded by his belongings, you softly groan and flip onto your side, trying your best to get comfortable.

The temptation to reach out to Shoko grows by the minute, but she’s probably not even awake, and…

You sigh, rolling onto your other side.

Every day you find yourself questioning more and more whether Sukuna means more by his actions. He’s not exactly good with his words, you don’t really expect him to outright tell you if things have changed but… god, you wish he would. You can’t possibly risk the friendship that you’ve worked so hard to foster and support, because Sukuna needs the foundation you give him, but every lingering stare and warm touch threatens to buckle your knees.

And that stupid toothbrush. Are you really reading too much into it?

You can’t say for sure, but your dreams are certain to remind you of the turmoil you’ve found yourself in.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; hiiiii!! sorry for the delay, i wasn't positive where to split this chapter since i had a specific spot in mind of where this chapter would end but i got carried away as usual bahaha. so! i decided based on the fact that the next scene is already 1/3 of the length of a normal chapter and there's still a ways to go, that it made the most sense to split this chapter into two rather than make everyone wait. i still think the next one will be long anyway 🥴

as a heads' up, the next chapters will come out a bit slower as well. i'm getting a tattoo finished this friday, then have a couple of week-long trips for concerts coming up within a couple of weeks of one another throughout june and july. i'm hoping to get lots of writing done in between those trips, but we'll see what happens!

i've been writing this series for almost a year now (i started posting it a while after writing began) and i'm seriously blown away by all the love. i can't believe this little series that i thought would be a oneshot has become an almost 300k word series about a grumpy lil family. i love them sm and i love you all sm, thank you for your support and sticking with me, i promise there's some light at the end of the tunnel waiting for you all in the next couple of chapters.

anyway kaori sucks, i wanna write about sukuna and his brothers being happy i miss them they deserve better

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[chaoticwriting]

One's man trash is another man's treasure

Run

Run

Run

His little legs swing as fast as he can. Escape is all his choice left. As incompetent as he is, he is very good at escaping. However, they don't need an escaper. What they need a warrior. And he is not one.

So he run. The league wishes to kill him. His grandfather Ra's sees him nothing as a lesser being. Even his mother Talia despises him. He has no one else here. He needs to be gone while they are focusing on the newest recruit.

So he run. And run. And run. He doesn't know how long has he been running. He only stops at the end of the day to sleep for an hour and drink some water. He is not a good fighter. Mainly because he isn't capable of killing. But his physical abilities are beyond what any of peers have.

He doesn't know where he is now. All he could see is towering building that pierce the sky. People in weird clothing, walking fastly along the road. And a huge fountain.

Water!

Rushing to it, he jumps straight into the water. He could feel the gazes coming at him but the feeling of the cool water is enough for him to ignore them for now.

???: Hey, you!

He turns around at the voice and sees a girl that's a little older than him standing there with her hands and her hips. English

????: Yes, you. You can't bath there. And you can't drink from that fountain.

?????: Why?

????: Because it's dirty. And it's not good. You should take a bath at home.

?????: I don't have a home.

????: What? What about parents?

?????: My mother hates me.

????: Oh! Errrm, would you like to come with us then?

?????: *Vigilant* To where?

????: To our hotel room. My mom and dad are out searching for ghost. So you can come use our shower. We even has food.

?????: No thanks. I'm not hungry *grrrrr*

????: Well, your stomach disagree. C'mon. I will make sure you eat the best food you will ever eat.

As the girl drags his wet body and clothes away, he wonders what is wrong with this girl. He will sneak out after he finish eating and showering.

?????: I'm Danyal

????:Hey Danny, I'm Jazz.

Danny: Danyal. Not Danny.

Jazz: Wasn't that what I say?

Danny: *Gives up* Whatever.

----15 years later----

Danny: Yeah, mom. I'm right in front of Gotham U right now. Ehhh, it's okay but it gives off serious haunted vibe. No. There is no ghost here. I will deal with the ghost here if there is any. I know. I will say hi to Jazz for you. Bye, mom. Love you too dad.

Danny enters Gotham U and true to Sam's rambling, it has the 70s gothic vibe to it. Sam did try to attend here too but her parents make her go to Metropolis U while Tucker goes to Star U. It is kind of weird going to class without them but it is not something he can't do.

As he opens his enters his dormitory, a figure rushes down the hall and accidentally bumps into him. Thankfully, he is fairly strong and the impact isn't strong.

The guy apologizes and immediately disappears at the end of the hallway.

Danny: Huh, what a weirdo.

After he enters the dormitory, he settles down and goes on his day.

---Wayne Manor---

Duke: You wouldn't believe what I just see at Gotham U this morning.

Steph: What?

Duke: I met a guy that look almost identical to Damian. If Damian smiles and his skin a little lighter, that would have been him.

Tim: Are you sure? We could try to do a background check on him if you want?

Duke: Nah. It's probably just a coincidence. There is no way he is somewhat related to Dami.

Tim: Daniel James Fenton. Birth of origin: unknown. 18 years old. Male. Have 2 sisters, a brother and parents. Live in small rural town. The only significant thing about them is that his sister is working at Arkham Asylum and his parents is ghost hunters.

Duke: What the fuck?! How the fuck do you know who to find out?

Tim: *Imitating Batman's voice* I'm Batman.

Duke: Whatever. See! He really does look like Damian. I'm not crazy.

Steph: No one says you are, dude. Anyway, we should show this to Damian. Maybe he knows him?

Damian: What are you all imbeciles talking about?

Tim: Hey, Dami. Look at this guy. Does he looks familiar?

Damian: *Freezes*

Steph: Uh oh. That isn't a no.

Damian: Where do you find him, Drake? Tell me!

Tim: Woah, dude. Chill. Duke bumps into him at Gotham U. He is studying there for Aerospace engineering apparently.

Damian: I need to make a call.

As Damian walks away, all of them look at each other signifying their shared thoughts. Yeah, they are not gonna leave this alone.

[written-in-knife]

Hi could I request headcanons for leona, malleus, ruggie,jamil and trey with a fem reader that's actually from their world (not yuu) and some years prior she was given a sort of blessing from someone that gives her like rapid regeneration so if she's hurt bad she heals almost same day BUT the catch being she's never told the boys this fact so maybe like one day they go somewhere or are in town and perhaps an animal or little kid is nearly hit by a car but she rushed out and grabbed them but ends up being run over instead. She's unconscious and injured for a moment but then slowly gets back up mostly fine and dandy

(This is so extra and specific sorry but thanks if you do write this🫶)

Blessed

Trey, Ruggie, Leona, Jamil, Malleus

Written with the idea of fem!reader, can be read as any gender, literal hurt/comfort, swearing, still pretty fluffy though

tw: graphic descriptions of injuries, getting hit by cars, and hit and runs

average 500 words per character

pt.1 :: pt.2

Don't be sorry, I love extra and specific! And, as we're already aware, I also love getting carried away with prompts lmaoo Side note, do y'all get notified when I post under your ask or should I start tagging the people who make requests?

Trey Clover

The two of you had gone to town to try out something, anything from that famous patisserie. You'd been trying to get something from there the last few months, always just missing it by two or three people in line. The last time the two of you had tried, Trey was actually the one they told that they were sold out. You agreed that you just had to go a little earlier, then there was no way you'd miss out. So, hand in hand, you and Trey left the campus at four in the morning, still not fully awake but determined to succeed this time. It wasn't a short walk to get to town, let alone the patisserie, but with it being so early in the morning you at least didn't have to worry about other people hindering your progress.

You were a few blocks out from finally getting to taste that greatness again, the sun barely kissing the horizon, when a cat darted out from an alley just ahead of you. Trey chuckled as it startled you, still too tired to expect the unexpected. You stopped to watch the cat for a second as it trotted into the road. If you hadn't been watching the cat, you wouldn't have seen the truck, headlights off and speeding down the street. You only thought about it for half a second before you let go of Trey's hand and sprinted towards the cat, not stopping when he shouted your name in panic. You scooped up the cat, protecting it with your body as the car impacted your back, and Trey watched as you disappeared underneath for a moment. The truck sped off, as if they had only hit a bump in the road, as Trey ran to you. He carefully flipped you over, the cat wiggling free of your arms and running off unharmed. His hands were shaking as he started a healing spell, trying to ignore how much blood there already was on the road, he had to try, you couldn't just... He had to try. He was surprised by how fast the healing spell was working, his own terror leading him to believe that he was just doing a really good job before your eyes shot open again. He stopped his spell, but your wounds kept closing, bones kept setting. You sat up with a groan, spitting out a few pebbles as you went.

"Is the cat okay...?" You asked groggily.

Trey just stared for a moment before he broke into laughter, tears of relief streaming down his face as he lunged forward to hold you in his arms. "Yeah... it's okay, sweetheart."

Ruggie Bucchi

The two of you went into town fairly often for dates. Specifically, you went to get free food. You were running out of places to run the scam, but how it would work is the two of you would go into separate restaurants, and sit there for awhile pretending that you were getting stood up. A good 80% of the time, the waitstaff would feel bad and comp your meals or give you a free dessert, you would ask for to go containers, then meet up on the beach for a picnic. Sometimes the picnic would only be two little cakes, but occasionally, you had full meals to share with each other.

Ruggie was waiting in the usual spot meet up spot, away from the restaurants. He'd managed to score one of your favorite pasta dishes from his half of the endeavor, and as you approached the opposite side of the street, he could see a smaller to go box in your hands. Dessert still meant it worked. He grinned at you as you waved for him, checking for cars. You swore you looked both ways, could've sworn there was no one coming. It happened so fast. One second you were jogging towards him, the next he was watching as you bounced along down the road, tires still squealing. You'd barely skidded to a stop when he made a break for you, dropping the box in his hands as he rushed to get to you. The second he dropped to his knees next to your broken body, the car backed up, then sped around the two of you to leave.

"HEY!" Ruggie shouted after it to no avail, whoever it was had no intention of sticking around, and he couldn't afford to go chasing after it. "Motherfucker...!"

He turned his focus back to you, hands hovering over the obviously broken bones and serious road rash and cuts that were oozing blood with every heartbeat, not wanting to hurt you. He had caught himself in a loop of thinking about picking you up off the road and not wanting to move you just in case, wanting to start a healing spell and thinking he should wait for professionals. He'd just dug his phone out when he heard a popping sound, then a groan, looking down to see your twisted limbs pulling themselves back together. He stared in awe, and a little horror, as your wounds began to close. Little rocks spitting themselves out of your road rash as you sat up, rubbing your back and looking like you were just uncomfortable and mildly inconvenienced. Then your head shot around, back to where you were initially hit, whining when you saw your to go box, partially ran over and spilled open on the pavement.

"Dammit," you grumbled as you yanked on your arm to guide your shoulder back into its socket, "they gave me that good cheesecake too!"

Ruggie just stared for a moment in disbelief before shouting, "YOU WERE JUST HIT BY A CAR AND THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE CONCERNED ABOUT?!"

"Yeah! It was the good caramel one from over by the docks!"

He sighed heavily, reaching forward to pull you into his arms. "We gotta talk about your priorities..."

Leona Kingscholar

It wasn't often that you were able to drag Leona off school grounds, you were lucky he couldn't say no to your professional pathetic puppy dog eyes. You were going to see a showing in the theater of a movie you'd adored as a kid, insisting to him that it was different to see it in the theater when he offered to just pick up a copy of it for you. He'd grumbled about it at first, but he actually stayed awake through the whole thing, even seeming to enjoy it by the end. You teased him about it a little as the two of you walked out of the theater, reveling in the way he smirked and pushed your face away from him to hide it.

Leona had his arm wrapped around your shoulders while you chatted about the movie, heading for the crosswalk when you heard a commotion behind you. Two kids, no older than eight, were coming out of the theater with their mom. The older of the two must've tripped, scraping his knee, and was crying on the sidewalk, the younger-- little, no older than five-- was laughing at his brother as he jumped up and down. Their mom's attention was focused on the injured boy as you heard the other yell that he would race them to the car. It was cute. You and Leona stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, when you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. You turned just in time to see the little boy darting out into the road, just far enough from you to avoid your initial grab. It didn't take much to extract yourself from Leona's hold and spring forward, Leona snapping your name as you ran after the boy and into oncoming traffic. And it was oncoming. You managed to snatch the boy by the collar just in front of a car that had already slammed on the brakes but was far too close, spinning to toss him back the way he came. The boy slammed into Leona's legs just as the car hit you, sending you flying into the intersection. He'd heard your bones snap when you were hit, he knew you weren't okay, face down in the middle of the intersection. But first...

He grabbed the boy by the collar you'd pulled to save him, pulling him to his feet and crouching down to his level, glaring daggers into his crying face. "Get back to your mother." He growled low in his chest. "Now!"

The boy wailed as he sprinted back towards the theater, but Leona didn't give him a second glance as he ran to you. The owner of the car was already there, on the phone with the emergency services, and was unceremoniously shoved out of the way when Leona approached. He knelt next to you, running a hand lightly over your hair as he took note of everything that was broken. Too much. Anything was too much in his eyes when it came to you. He didn't like that he could see your leg bone, he didn't like that he could smell the overwhelming iron of your blood on the sun baked pavement, he didn't like how little you were moving.

"You'll be alright." He muttered, leaning down to your ear, unsure if he was reassuring himself or you.

"Yeah, give it a second." You agreed, making him snap back upright as he wasn't expecting a response, let alone one that sounded so nonchalant.

While he was reeling from his own whiplash, he could hear the creaking and popping as your bones slid back into place, and he grimaced as he watched your exposed leg bone slide back under your skin. Then your skin began to pull closed, intense injuries disappearing in mere moments until all that was left were pink scars and the damage to your clothes. You sat back up, shaking your arms out and grabbing your jaw, popping it back into place like it happened every day. Once you looked like nothing had happened, Leona reached over and swatted you upside the head.

"The fuck was that?!" He snapped as you rubbed at the spot he hit.

"What, was I supposed to let the kid get hit by the car?" You shot back with a smirk.

He growled, but said nothing, rolling his eyes as he sat back on his hands. You could see the relief in his posture, even if he didn't express it with words. Good luck trying to get him to come to town again.

Jamil Viper

Jamil needed a day off, even if he wouldn't admit it. You bribed some Scarabia members to watch after Kalim for one evening, making sure he didn't die while you stole Jamil away for a date night in town. He griped about it at first, of course, worried Kalim would do something stupid while he was gone. But it was just a few hours with his favorite person, he could put Kalim on a back burner for once. The two of you had been talking about trying a new restaurant in town that served dishes from the Scalding Sands, and you were excited to see if they could match up to Jamil.

You were laughing as you left the restaurant, Jamil holding your hand and giving you his honest critic as you headed back towards the campus. "It was fine," immediately followed by everything they did wrong in a brutally honest fashion, ending with "but it was fine." You knew he was embellishing for your sake, he liked to find ways to make you laugh. You squeezed his hand, telling him that next time you'd stick to tried and tested places. He liked the idea of next time, especially with the usual daily chaos so far away. Not wanting to head back just yet, he pulled you along a different route, explaining that he'd heard about an ice cream parlor nearby that might make up for the dinner. You knew the real reason, but just followed along with a smile.

You were crossing the street when someone blew a red light, the car barrelling towards the two of you. You didn't think, you just shoved Jamil out of the way before the impact. He didn't see it happen, having tumbled to the ground when you shoved him. When he looked back, the car was nowhere to be seen, and you were a little further up the road laying motionless. He was quick to pull himself back up, nearly tripping over his feet as he made his way over to you. You must've gone under the wheels, both legs crushed in a way that nearly made him sick. He dug his shaking fingers into the fabric of your shirt, resisting the urge to pull you up and into his lap. He knew plenty of healing spells, he had to with his lifestyle. Why couldn't he remember any of them? He bit his tongue to bleeding as he just sat there, silent tears dripping off his face. He felt like he couldn't move, not that he wanted to. Then you did. It was slow at first, if he didn't have his hands on your torso, he wouldn't have noticed the way your ribs slotted back into place. Still frozen, he watched as your legs squirmed unnaturally, listening to you groan in discomfort as the crushed areas reformed. You still had some blood on your face as you pushed yourself back up, giving him a worried look as he let go of your shirt in a daze.

"Jamil, are you okay?" You asked quickly, twisting around to face him fully, cupping his cheeks as gently as you could. "Are you hurt?"

He didn't move. For a lot longer than you maybe should have, the two of you sat in the road as you checked him over for injuries. Finding none but the light scrapes on his arms, you focused back on his face.

"Never do that again." He finally muttered, grabbing your arms and holding on like you were about to disappear. "Don't ever do that again."

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had always been able to sense some sort of blessing on you. It wasn't uncommon for members of Diasomnia to be blessed by the fae before arriving at NRC, so he never thought to ask about it. Looking back, maybe he should have.

He wasn't with you when it happened. It never would've happened in the first place if he'd been there. Lilia got a call from one of your friends saying that you'd been hit by a car in town, and that Malleus needed to get there as fast as he could. He was gone the second Lilia finished telling him where you were. He only got to see your broken body laying in the road for the briefest moment before your eyes shot open and you sat up, your friend screaming in terror. It didn't take him long to connect the dots as he approached you, watching as you maneuvered your broken arm back into the correct position for the bones to reattach, large wounds from sliding along the road already starting to stitch themselves closed before his eyes. A blessing of protection, then... He sighed heavily in relief before crouching down next to you.

"Are you alright, beloved?" He asked with a small smile as you cracked your neck with a satisfied groan.

"I've been better." You huffed, taking his offered hand and letting him help you up. "You don't seem surprised."

"It is no surprise to me that someone would want to bless you. You may want to explain it to your friend, however."

The two of you looked over to your friend, who was still standing there, mouth agape and staring at you in horror. You laughed and squeezed Malleus's hand before going over to them to explain the situation. It was comforting to know someone had blessed you in such a way that you could not be hurt for long, but he knew the sight of you broken in the middle of the road would haunt him for years to come. One more blessing couldn't hurt, right?

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[pbeltarts]

Hey! I decided it might be helpful to have a reference post for all the details for the AU. I'll update this periodically as new things are revealed or added. - Bec

General Info

This Au is based on Pixie Hollow and the Tinkerbell movies/books! Most of it will lean on the movie lore, but will borrow some lore from the books as well. I also am making up a lot of lore myself to fill in gaps for the storyline or make the translation from MHA easier.

You can learn more about the lore of Pixie Hollow via the wiki!

>> The Fanfic is out and updating! You can read it here! <<

#MHAPixieHollow

Want to draw or write with the AU and share it? You can use the above hashtag so it'll be connected! I'll try to check this tag regularly so I can share your work! (This should work on tumblr and insta, but I cannot be certain for twitter/bluesky.)

#pixie asks

This is the tag I use on answers to askbox questions involving the AU!

Some General Guidelines:

While my AU has a plot line and is intended to have BKDK as the focus ship, I don't care/mind if you like the designs and want to draw your preferred ship with them! As long as you're nice to others, do what you want! (So even though I'm making this for BKDK, if you like KRBK and like their designs, I don't care if you draw/write that with the AU!)

I do have a storyline for the AU and am working on a fic with that, but! I love seeing others' creativity, so if you want to use the AU for your own writing, feel free! All I ask is that you don't claim anything as "canon" to the AU unless its been stated by me!

Its unlikely I'll be able to design every fairy from 1A or elsewhere, so if I haven't designed them and you want to come up with a design for the AU, do it! I'd love to see it!

If you like any of the art from the AU and want to use it for PFPs/Banners on your social accounts, you're free to do so! I'd prefer credit if you did, thanks!

Most of my work for the AU will be monochrome sketches, so if you want to color them feel free! All I ask is that you properly credit me if you share your coloring.

The Fairies

Izuku aka "Deku" - [design]

Talent: Dust Keeper Alchemy Info: Deku's wings are covered in black veins that creep onto his back and he cannot fly, even with the help of pixie dust. He's given blue pixie dust by All Might and works on alchemy experiments in secret in order to do multiple talents.

Katsuki aka "Kacchan" - [design]

Talent: Fast Flying Info: One of the best fast flyers in Pixie Hollow, he has unique control over the winds. Constantly keeping Deku out of trouble.

Eijirou - [design]

Talent: Animal Talent Info: One of Katsuki's closest friends. He has a best animal friend, a turtle named Boulder, who he visits regularly and takes sun naps on his shell.

Denki - [design]

Talent: Light Talent Info: Playful and excitable, he has a habit of accidentally lighting himself up when excited.

Mina - [design]

Talent: Garden Talent Info: Fun-loving and overly social, she loves calling forward a bunch of colorful petals to surprise others.

Kyouka - [design]

Talent: Music Talent Info: Likes to play her guitar in various places in pixie hollow for her friends. Momo, the tinker fairy, makes and fixes her instruments.

Hanta - [design]

Talent: Scouting Talent Info: Specializes in using vines and ropes to restrain threats. A fairly laid back fairy who likes to bother his friends and laze about when avoiding orders from Hawks, the leader of the Scouting guild.

Ochaco - [design]

Talent: Fast Flying Info: While not the fastest of the flying talents, Ochaco specializes in utilizing winds to create a soft floating affect. She's most useful in helping dandelions find their way to the pixie dust tree or assisting in soft landings.

Shouto - [design]

Talent: Light & Frost Talents Info: Shouto is a unique fairy where two dandelions were growing from the same stalk when it took flight to Pixie Hollow. Because of this, him and his intentional sibling became one when influenced by Pixie dust, making him both a Summer and Winter fairy. Because of this, he can do 2 talents and also survive in both climates for elongated periods of time. However, he cannot stay in one place for a whole year, and regularly has to move between the Summer Glade and the Winter Woods.

Tsuyu - [design]

Talent: Water Talent Info: One of the only Water fairies that willingly gets into water, though she doesn't submerge her wings and only stands in shallow ends. She calls Izuku "Izu-chan."

Tenya - [design]

Talent: Fast Flying Info: A very structured fairy, he doesn't like deviating from his schedule. He's considered possibly the fastest of the fast flying talents but his wind control is lacking.

Hitoshi - [design]

Talent: Dust Keeping Info: Always tired. One of Izuku's closest friends, he'll defend Izuku in his own way from others. Has some unspoken guilt that he maybe somehow was the reason Izuku's wings formed incorrectly.

All Might

Talent: Unknown Info: When acting as king, All Might presents himself in a full-bodied muscled form. But out of the public eye, he presents as a feeble older fairy named Toshinori. The other fairies outside of the Never Council and Fairy Inko don't know that they're the same people, which allows Toshinori to speak comfortably with others and keep an eye on Pixie Hollow from the sidelines. Izuku meets Toshinori and helps him with something, despite the task being far harder without the help of flight, and Toshinori sees how hard Izuku is trying and feels something special about him, so he gives Izuku a supply of blue pixie dust.

More TBA!

Other Characters

Eri

Eri is a human child whose laugh Deku was born from. She lives a difficult life.

Mirio aka "Lemillion"

Mirio is a blonde mouse and Eri's only friend, who attempts to look out for her and make her smile. Eri gave him the nickname "Lemillion" because it sounds like 'lemon' (because of his fur) and how he's 1 in a million.

More TBA!

F.A.Q.

What happened to Deku's wings? Can he not fly?

Deku's wings did not work since his arrival. They look different from others' wings and don't respond to pixie dust, so he cannot take flight. Because he was born from Eri's sorrowful laugh, there was not enough joy in it for him to form correctly. [You can see Deku's Birth comic here!]

What about [insert character name]?

I have plans for most of the main cast from MHA, but not all of them will be fairies. As for other characters, like students from 1B or other NPCs, I don't have solid thoughts for all of them and really only think of them if I plan to insert them into the story so I probably don't have a role for them.

How did Katsuki and Izuku meet?

Katsuki met Izuku on Izuku's arrival day! He was the fairy to see Izuku's dandelion come into Pixie Hollow and aided it to the Pixie Dust Tree. [You can see the comic here!]

Is this a fanfic or comic I can read?

Right now, all that exists are the little snippet comics and drawings I've made. However! I have a storyline in mind for the AU set roughly 6 years after Deku's birth, and I'm going to try to write it! I'll definitely share it when I'm able.

Will there be other ships in the AU other than BKDK?

Probably! But I haven't given it much thought or focus yet.

Can I cosplay your fairy designs?

ABSOLUTELY!! And please show me because I will cry.

Am I allowed to do fanart/write something for the AU?

OF COURSE!!! Please please share it with me too I'd love to see it! You can also use the tag #MHAPixieHollow !

More TBA as needed.

[beforetimes]

okay i love the aus about shen jiu finding a little shen yuan and bringing him to qing jing peak before slowly warming up to him so here is my take on it! (specifically their first meeting)

shen jiu has been on qing jing peak for about five years at this point. he's vying for the position of head disciple and all things considered, he is a pretty strong contender for the role. there's just one issue his teacher keeps coming back to; how shen jiu will pass down knowledge on qing jing peak.

it's not a stretch to say that shen jiu is a bit. rough around the edges. and sometimes when teaching the younger disciples his own skewed views of how fast or slow they should be progressing leads him to get snappish and cold. trial teaching periods with shen jiu are most of the junior disciples' worst nightmare and the current qing jing peak lord knows well enough that this is something that needs to be rectified.

shen jiu, who knows this is the only real roadblock to becoming a head disciple like he's been trying at for five years, is intensely irritated. and on the verge of losing it, as if he hasn't been on a hair-trigger temper ever since he turned against wu yanzi for yue qingyuan only to not even be granted a reason for him never returning. qi deviations are a begrudginly expected aspect of his life that weaken his warring body in ways that make shen jiu want to scream.

anyway. he goes out on a mission with liu qingge to a far-off town a few months after one of these qi deviations and in the process of chasing away whatever beast or ghost has been bothering this town, they have to walk through the marketplace. it's fairly packed, all things considered, but shen jiu can still tell when his coin bag is lifted off him and the thief snatches away barely a moment later. he's already in a pretty bad mood because of liu qingge being there but he doesn't necessarily want to make a scene and draw the attention of the entire street onto him, so he follows after the child. he keeps an eye on the back of his head to keep track of him while liu qingge whinges on the side about how they need to stay on task and why is shen jiu getting distracted and is he seriously going to a brothel?!

to which shen jiu looks up and realizes that either this child a ) went to this brothel because he felt shen jiu following him and wanted to throw a righteous cultivator off by going into a place he assumed shen jiu wouldn't enter or b ) he lives here and he was just returning 'home.' neither of these options particularly work in the child's favour, considering the fact that shen jiu would just walk in without a care in the world and objectively, a brothel isn't a great place to live.

either way, he clenches his jaw, ignores liu qingge, and walks in to grab the thief and turn him around.

just to come face to face with a child that looks like him.

they both blink. shen jiu thinks this must be some sort of practical joke. the boy looking at him doesn't seem to understand what shen jiu is looking at so intently: the kid has probably never seen his face before, if anything. but he knows that something is up because he starts fidgeting and starts acting a bit scared the longer shen jiu stares without saying anything before finally breaking and shoving the coin bag back into shen jiu's hands.

who takes it. but also doesn't stop staring.

liu qingge, at this point, has recovered enough face and pushed down enough shame to walk into the brothel to drag shen jiu out before he also comes face to face with this child and is suitably confused.

of course there is no silence from liu qingge. the first thing he asks is if the kid if shen jiu's son, to which he snaps no. then he's asked if its a bastard brother or something along those lines. and shen jiu wants to automatically reply no to that as well before very suddenly and startlingly realizing that for as much as he assumed his mother was dead, he never actually remembered her dying. or saw a grave. while very rapidly realizing that he kind of just constructed the idea of her being dead for the sake of coping with the fact that she got rid of him away willingly. which is. wow. okay. shen jiu can't tell if he's feeling white hot rage so overwhelming that its making him blank out or he's so painfully numb that every limb of his prickles like its falling asleep.

either way. he looks around at this brothel and at this child who has bruises on his wrists and arms and peeking out under his robes—robes which look far too much like the ones that the prostitutes around him are wearing and asks what happens to his mom. and learns that she died when he was born and the boy is fifteen years old. which is hilarious because anyone with a working set of eyes can tell he's barely hitting double digits, let alone passing himself off as a teenager.

and then shen jiu feels like laughing hysterically for a whole other reason, watching the kid flinch when a large lumbering man pushes past the three collected at the entrance to walk in. and many realizations are piling up in his head all at once and thinking about this is making him want to throw up. and he wants to walk away and forget this ever happened and pretend that if he flies all the way back to cang qiong mountain immediately then this child will fade to the back of his memory and nothing will matter except for becoming head disciple.

which is when he remembers the only thing that is roadblocking him.

and shen jiu looks down at this child who is shaking slightly but still managing to look him in the eyes. who is covered in bruises but still stole money off of him. who is living in a brothel but hasn't wilted and rotted away like a dying flower. who has an ember of potential in his stomach, the possibility of becoming a cultivator just nearly there.

what better way to prove that he can become a head disciple than teaching his brother (???) how to become a cultivator? someone he can make countless mistakes with who will be indebted to him because of shen jiu saving him from this place. someone he can show to the peak lord as proof that he can work with children, he can teach, he has that slight touch of softness needed for a peak lord who will hand down knowledge to generations after him.

it doesn't even necessarily need to be real softness. he can just practice with this child, who knows nothing better, who is tied to shen jiu and won't leave once he comes to cang qiong because (and shen jiu can't tell if this makes him want to throw up or straighten up, pleased with his cleverness) he knows what is waiting for him when if he ever decided to leave, and shen jiu has garnered enough of a reputation that no one will want to try to be near anyone wearing his face.

which is a very tangential way to say that shen jiu asks for the child's name ("all the women here call me yuan." it is very impersonal) before telling him that this is the only time he will ever get an offer like this and no one else will ever care to look at someone of his standing ever again so it is important to listen to everything he says carefully. he tells yuan that he will take him back to his sect to become a cultivator. but he can never come back here and speak of this or how they met once they leave. any connections to this place will be cut off. he will be under shen jiu's care but fend for himself once they get back. shen jiu leaves him with one of his fans and enough coin for a meal before telling him that they will return in a few days time, by which time yuan will have made his decision. the fan is promised as incentive to come back because shen jiu doesn't need to child's trust broken before they even get there. he does all this before leaving without another word.

liu qingge is spitting blood the whole way back to their inn on the other side of town, questioning what the hell got into shen jiu and what was he talking about and any number of other things before shen jiu starved him out by refusing to say a word.

when they come back a few days later, yuan takes barely a minute to grab a bag of everything he needs before he looks up, handing shen jiu's fan back to him.

let me know if you want a continuation of this or a fic hahaha i will add it to the list

[part two!]

[sttm99]

Content warnings: swearing, making out, unedited

Prohero!Dynamight falls for the live wedding painter at his best friend's wedding

Dynamight is explosive in more ways than just his quirk.

When you see him in person for the first time whilst doing the live painting for Red Riot's wedding ceremony, he's all you see for a moment or two, and you're thankful you didn't mess up a chord at the sight of him.

His presence is overwhelming, taking up the space around him, sucking people in whilst simultaneously pushing them away.

He walks down the aisle with another pro-hero bridesmaid on his side before taking his place on the dais with the rest of the groomsmen, meters away from where you're standing before your easel.

Dynamight stands next to Chargebolt, his signature frown softer than usual as he watches his friend get married. You stare at him, eyes tracing the contours of his face as best as you can despite the distance as you work to capture his face in the painting.

He's a handsome man, you think, as you press quick strokes to his hair. When you look up again, he's staring at you, and the eye contact has your stomach dropping in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

He looks away immediately Red Riot comes up, lightly patting his best friend's back in encouragement.

Once the music starts and the bride enters the hall, Dynamight is the last thing on your mind as you work to capture her. As you do so, you fail to notice the way he goes back to looking at you.

You set your things down at the corner of the large reception hall, beginning the second painting of the evening.

You smile softly at guests as they come to admire your work, trying your best to capture the bride's extravagant reception dress as she prances around the place gleefully.

You're focused as your work on her skirt piece, squinting as you paint across it delicately, so much so you don't notice the presence just behind you.

"You're good at this shit." You hear suddenly behind you. The voice is startling enough to draw your focus away, but not so much that you mess it up.

You glance behind you at the tall blonde male, fairly shocked at his presence. You'd assumed he wasn't the type for social interactions judging by how cold and aloof he was to most of the other guests.

"It is my job," You say as you turn back to your painting.

"I know." He walks forward, so he's beside you now, his gaze on the scene on you've done so far. "But this-" He pauses, glances at you then back ay the easel, "This is really fucking good. And you're fast. I saw the one you did at the ceremony."

You hum, a nice warmth coursing through you at the praise.

"Thank you, Dynamight." You turn to give him a small smile. Then you hold out your brush to him, "You wanna try?"

His eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his head. "Nah. I'll do a shit job, I promise you."

You laugh softly at how hesitant he was, but you could see the way he was eyeing the brush. "It's fine. You'll just make some strokes on the gown." You insist. "I'll guide you."

He pauses, looking straight at you as he mulls it over.

"Fine. Gimme that." He huffs as he takes the brush from you and stands closer, holding it over the board.

"Okay, so..." You hold his enclosed palm and bring the brush closer to the painting, making light strokes on the white gown of the bride.

Your eyes are on the painting, but his are on you, your face as you focus, your hand as it holds his, and a warmth begins to pool at his stomach.

"See?" You murmur with a small smile as you look back at him. Your cheeks redden just slightly when you see how he's already looking at you.

"Um... are you-"

"You should call me Bakugo," He says as he looks away from you and back at the painting. His voice is lower than before, and his disposition is less stiff.

"Oh." You just say quietly as he hands the brush back to you, unsure of what to say next.

"Now's when you tell me your name in return." He's quieter, and he's refusing to look at you.

You assume it's to hide the red you can see dusting his face.

"YN." You say to him as you take the brush back, a small smile on your face. He nods once and repeats it under his breath in a voice that almost makes you squirm.

"Is that me?" He asks quietly as he squints at a figure in one corner.

You look at it and nod. "Yep."

He hums, "And that's Soy Sauce face." He points at another figure you're sure is Cellophane. "Then Earphone Jack and the idiot. Deku, Half and Half-"

He goes on listing pro heroes by strangely accurate but offensive nicknames, and you can't help but find it incredibly funny.

He spends most of the reception with you as you paint, ignoring the weird way people look at him as he refuses to leave your side, even going as far as bringing you a plate of cake after it's been cut, and some other foods and drinks.

As the night ends and the guests leave, he's the last by your side before the newlyweds and their closer friends and family come over to see how far you've gone.

"It looks practically done," Mina says in awe.

You smile as you pack the rest of your things. "Almost. I'll have to do some finishing touches at the studio first, though. You should get them back in about a week."

They hum as they take some more looks.

Kirishima looks at Bakugo as he stands right next to your side. "You gonna follow her to the studio too?" He snorts at his friend, "Seeing as you couldn't leave her side, you might as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair."

You laugh as you pack up the painting, "Anyways, I hope you guys had fun, and congratulations on getting married." You say as you begin to leave.

"I'll help you," Bakugo grumbles as he carries your large box of paints and brushes.

The look he gives you lets you know that he's not taking 'no' for an answer, which is how you found yourself outside the hall with him next to the car.

"Thank you, Bakugo, for the help." You say as you look up at him with a grin.

He stares you down with his regularly furrowed brows, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he thinks of what to say to keep you longer.

"Would it be inappropriate if I asked for your number?" He's so close you can smell him and it makes you feel fuzzy.

You grin. "Not at all."

He hands you his phone for you to out your number in, and as he watches you do it with your hands slightly stained with paint, he can't help but want to kiss you.

Would that be inappropriate? He's sure it will. You two just met. But still, he can't help but want to try.

Bakugo stuffs his phone back into his pockets the moment you hand it back, and he steps closer to you. His palms are sweaty, and he's trying to inconspicuously wipe them as they're stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Would it also be inappropriate if I kissed you here?" His voice is husky as he asks and you can see the blush on his face.

He's so much different than the media paints him out to be, more awkward than mean, more aloof than nasty. But you think that maybe this persona, this Bakugo, is just for you.

You smile up at him shyly, your hands tightly clasped behind your back as you nod.

He doesn't hold your face because his palms are too sweaty. He doesn't think he can get them dry enough on time because he wants to kiss you now.

He leans forward, and you do too, and when his mouth meets yours, you're lightheaded. His lips are soft as he kisses you, and he moves them in a way that shows experience.

You smile into it, satisfied and still wanting more, and before you know it, his palms are on your waist, pulling you flush against his body and pressing his lips harder against your own.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, but you can see how blown his pupils are.

"Good night, Bakugo." You whisper to him.

He pecks your cheek once before letting go, "Good night."

[eridanusco]

All grown up

characters: Megumi Fushiguro

relationships: Megumi x Reader

summary: childhood bff!Megumi and you are off to college. wait, why is Megumi so mad? why is he dragging you into his apartment? an innocent conversation with his neighbor turns into him making sure you know you’re his.<3

warnings: MDNI! (18+), very little plot, porn w/out plot, smutty smut, cunnilingus, nipple play, dacryphylia if you squint, afab!reader, virgin!reader, PIV intercourse, should child Megumi be a warning?, aged up character (18), size kink is kinking, idk if soft dom applies but I’m putting it here anyways

author’s note: This slithered into my brain and wouldn’t leave. feedback is always welcome :)

masterlist<3

“Sh, you can take it,” Megumi murmurs, his thumb stroking your lip softly before pressing in, the pad of it running across your tongue. “That’s it, pretty baby. You’re being so good for ‘gumi, y’know that?”

Megumi’s broad shoulders block your vision, his muscular frame dwarfing you as he leans on a forearm planted beside your head. He watches as tears prick the corners of your eyes to track down the apples of your cheeks, leaning down to trace the tracks with his tongue.

How did you get here? Growing up with Megumi as your best friend wasn’t a walk in the park- meeting at a tender age of five, you hid behind your Aunt Shoko’s legs as she and Gojo tried to spark a friendship for their respective wards. Megumi was a little quiet, a little snarky as your friendship blossomed, always having an opinion on everything you did. Despite it all, you became fast friends, your names becoming synonymous by your middle school years. Megumi and you, you and Megumi- there was no one else, no other friends allowed, and you both made sure of that in your own ways.

Megumi, rude to every boy that tried to befriend you, tore them down with a bored tone and an expression that conveyed how lackluster he found them. You were a little more of a brat- you pushed girls off of swings and lunchroom benches if they dared to try and befriend your ‘gumi.

You and Megumi were freshmen in college, meeting at his apartment for dinner- the apartment he hated, but Gojo insisted on, having dramatically broken down as he vowed that no son of his would ever live in a dorm. As Megumi opened the door, you had been stopped by a neighbor of his- a fairly handsome boy, also newly eighteen, with blonde hair and a height difference that made your neck hurt. A friendly conversation, until Megumi dragged you into his apartment, his mouth in a flat line and his eyes angry. It didn’t take long before he’d stripped you of your clothes, lips and teeth trailing along every inch of skin he bared.

He shushes you again as you whine for him, “s’too- too big, gumi!” He rolls his hips gently, tilting to rub his nose along hers. “Not too big, baby. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Keep takin’ it, just like that.”

The skin of his chest sticks to yours as he withdraws his thumb, running it down your arm to grasp your hand and pin it to the sheets above your heads with entwined fingers. A dark smile spreads slowly over his lips as you whimper, pressing deeper. “See? That wasn’t so- hah- hard, was it baby?” He asked as his rhythm sped up.

Whining, your free hand rakes down his back, nails leaving trails of fire that cause his hips to snap sharply. “Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. He uses his whole body to rock into you, defined muscles of his abdomen clenching as the bed creaks. “Greedy lil’ thing, can’t - ngh- help yourself, huh?”

Sticky sweetness drips from your messy cunt down Megumi’s cock, pooling at his base in a creamy ring. He shifts to his knees, hands spreading your thighs as he takes in the sight with a low groan. He can’t help but swipe a thumb over your clit roughly, shoving his aching cock into you as you keen.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he grunts, almost to himself. “Sucking me in so good, so pretty.”

The hand not rubbing you caresses down your waist and over your hip, fingers gripping tightly enough to leave imprints when he moves to grab your knee and press it up, open over his hip. “Sh, baby girl. ‘Gumi’s got you. You’re doin’ so- ” He cuts off with a curse, eyes clenching shut as he shifts up and forward, grinding down against you in a way that has you both stuttering against each other. "Mm, fuu-uhck," he swears through his teeth. Your gummy walls tighten around him, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as his fat tip bullies your g-spot, the rhythmic tightening of your cunt almost milking him.

“Hngh- ‘gumi!” You cry, a trembling hand lifting and tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging him down.

He grunts softly, hips stuttering as you thread your fingers through his sweaty locks before complying easily and dropping his head to yours, lips pressing against your neck. He peppers a trail of kisses up to your ear before nipping the lobe in a way that has your fingers curling against his scalp, sharp white teeth dragging over skin and causing your leg to jerk in his hold.

"That’s it, pretty baby," he hums in a soft rumble against your throat. "You like that, huh? You like it when I play with you a little rough?" You whine desperately, a plea for more, for everything. “Gumi- m’so close, please!” You warn, pressing your head back into the pillows, your back arching.

He chuckles lowly into your skin, lips curving into a smirk as you shiver, nodding. “Thought so,” he murmurs in amusement, trailing more tender kisses along the column of your neck.

His hands span your waist as he shifts back on his knees, holding you in a mean arch as his thighs tense with each mind-numbing pump of his hips.

With a low moan, he fucks into you, forcing a high, needy whine from your throat as you lift your arms to grip onto his biceps, fingers digging into the muscle. "Slutty pussy’s gonna come on my cock, yeah?” He manages to grunt. You cry out, your thighs trembling as you quickly approach your peak. “Pleasepleaseplease!” You whine.

Megumi grins at your eager response, hips snapping harder and faster, the wet squelch of flesh filling the air. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” he groans, his gaze fixed on his swollen cock disappearing into your weeping cunt. He reaches again between your bodies, fingers seeking out your swollen clit. With a knowing look, he starts rubbing firm circles around it, twisting slightly to apply pressure. “Come on, baby,” he coaxes, voice husky with lust. “Soak me, lemme feel how bad you wanna be good for me. Pussy’s so tight, feel you squeezing me.”

You sob as everything goes white, your ears ringing and hands scrabbling at the sheets underneath you. That’s all it takes for Megumi to lose it, aching cock pistoning into your gushing heat as his head falls back on a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously. You feel the warmth of his come flooding you, dripping obscenely from your still twitching walls as he slumps over you, burying his face into your neck.

You both catch your breath, your hands threading through his hair to stroke soothingly as he presses panting kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Greedy girl,” he breathes, nipping at the sensitive skin before pressing his cheek to your chest. You huff an amused breath from your nose, tugging lightly on his inky locks in retaliation. You lay together, sticky and dripping, letting the silence blanket you. It takes him a few moments but he pulls out, hissing a breath as your walls try to suck him back in.

“Told you,” he murmurs, amused. “Greedy pussy.” He presses a kiss to your collarbone before shifting down, trailing his lips across your skin until he’s able to wrap his tongue around a pebbled nipple, a content hum rattling in his chest. He glances up at you, eyes filled with amused desire, as you inhale sharply, fingers clenching around his strands.

“What- ‘gumi, what are you doing?” You breathe, eyes drooping into a half-lidded stare. He doesn’t respond, flattening his tongue to drag over your nipple until you’re restlessly shifting under him. He pays attention to your other neglected bud until you’re whimpering, only pausing to move further down your body, nasty, open mouthed kisses being pressed to your stomach.

“Gumi?” You ask again, propping on your elbows. He’s settled between your legs, big hands gripping and dimpling the plush skin of your thighs. “Lay down, baby,” he urges softly, staring at the way your combined fluids drip obscenely from your swollen cunt. “Gonna clean you up.”

“Megumi, no!” You exclaim softly, face flushing. You lean on an elbow, your other hand coming to gently push his head away. He grabs your hand, squeezing warningly before pinning it to the bed beside your thigh. That’s all the warning you get before he’s burying his face into your cunt, breathing in and groaning in a way that makes your stomach flip and your face flame. Your head drops to the pillows, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as he flattens his tongue and licks a hot stripe from your filthy hole to your clit.

Megumi eats you with a single-minded intensity, drawing back to spit on your puffy clit before diving back in. His tongue presses into you, thrusting like he wishes it was his cock again to draw out any remaining fluids. “Gumi- ‘gumi, fuck!” You moan. “Please- please s’too much, too sensitive, ohmygod!”

He ignores you, stiffening the pink muscle to thrust even deeper into you before moving to your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his hips rut into the bedding. Tears prick at your closed lids, the stimulation bordering on painful for your poor, dripping cunt. Your sniffling and whimpering make his cock throb, his hips thrusting against the sheets desperately as his hands yank your thighs apart until they’re almost flat to the mattress. All it takes is his tongue lapping one, twice, the hint of teeth pressing against your clit and you’re keening, cunt pulsing around nothing. Megumi can’t help but groan, his cock spurting underneath him as his nails dig into your thighs.

He drops his forehead to your soft skin, catching his breath before climbing up to lay beside you. He draws you into his arms, shaky fingers tracing your spine. “Give me ten minutes,” he mutters hoarsely into your hair, “and I want you on my face.”

You barely have the presence of mind to register his words, laughing breathlessly when it clicks. He drops his head back to the headboard with a thunk, his eyes closing. “Fuck. Make it five.”

[plutoslastwords]

More baby norris please. What about her having an innocent baby crush on one of the drivers (Charles, George,..) and Labdo being an overprotectiv dad.

new favourite

lando norris x daughter!reader, charles leclerc x norris!daughter!reader, (slight) carlos sainz x norris!daughter!reader

summary: baby norris finds a new paddock crush, lando is less than pleased.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: sorry i've been mia for the past week.... but i'm back :DD hope you guys enjoy, thank you so so so so so so so much for 200 followers, i am genuinely lost for words, i love you all! pls feel free to send in any requests xx

~~~

Though they wouldn’t say that they are each other’s best friends, the Formula 1 drivers do end up spending quite a lot of time together. 

Whether it be at races, events or even travelling together, no matter how different some sort of bond is created between them all. They are the people who really understand each other, the only ones who know exactly what they’re all going through.

This means that being the daughter of Lando Norris, you also know the other drivers fairly well. 

Lando doesn’t mind this at all, honestly it’s great. It’s an excuse to put some babysitting jobs onto his other drivers, and they can’t say anything about it because just look at your face!

He does mind, however, when a certain Monaquese driver manages to woo his perfect, precious angel. 

It starts at the Monaco Grand Prix. You’re holding your daddy’s hand, toddling through the paddock, occasionally pointing at something that you find especially exciting, whilst Lando talks to a media crew about his thoughts and feelings for the weekend. 

Your big grins grows impossibly bigger when you see your favourite Uncle Carlos! You giggle gleefully, detaching yourself from Lando and sprinting as fast as you can to Carlos’ awaiting arms.

“Chiquita!! I’ve missed you!” He spins you around in the air, whilst you carry on giggling. “Why don’t I take you into Ferrari, hm? You think your daddy would mind?”

You shake your head, you don’t care if your daddy does mind, you just want to spend time with Uncle Carlos.

You had never been in the Ferrari garage before, and you probably stick out like a sore thumb, dressed in a little pink dress with a little papaya Mclaren cap atop your head. Some of the mechanics give you and Carlos some odd looks, but eventually connect the dots in their heads. 

“Carlos, who’s this?” A new, strange voice asks. Carlos turns and so you do too, the strange man reminds you of Carlos a bit, but not really. He has pretty eyes. And pretty hair. You shove your face into Carlos’ shoulder, giggling quietly to yourself about the strange pretty man.

Carlos chuckles at your antics, “This is Lando’s little one,” He introduces you, “Chiquita, are you going to say hi to Charles?” He strokes your hair. 

You shake your head, still giggling. You poke your head up to look at the pretty man again, he’s smiling at you now, his smile is pretty as well. You shove your face back into Carlos’ neck.

“Baby, say hi to Charles, hm?” 

You give a slight, shy wave, barely lifting your head from its sanctuary in Carlos’ neck. The pretty man coos at you. 

“Hello, cherie…” You like his voice as well, he has a nice voice. You giggle. “She’s a bit shy?” He asks Carlos.

“She’s normally quite excited, what’s up with you, hm?” You just shake your head again, embarrassed at showing your face in front of the pretty man. “Is Charles scaring you, chiquita?”

You shake your head, not wanting to admit anything to Carlos. 

Before he can say anything in response, however, someone calls his name saying that he is needed urgently somewhere in the garage.

“Oh god, I should go. Charles, can you bring her back to Lando?”

Charles nods, and accepts you when Carlos passes you to him. You like the feeling of being in pretty man’s arms. You put your head on his shoulder, watching everything going on behind him. 

“Okay, cherie, we’re gonna get you back to your daddy now, does that sound okay?” 

You nod in response, just content with being in his hold, no matter what you’re doing. 

“Can’t believe I haven’t met you before, hm? Gotta get to know you, what’s your favourite colour, cherie?” 

“Pink…” you giggle, excited to be talking about your favourite things with the pretty man.

On the journey from the Ferrari garage to the Mclaren garage the pretty man continues asking you questions in order to get to know you. You become quite fond of him, he has a little dog called Leo who he has said that you can meet. 

By the time you get to the Mclaren garage, you don’t want to let go. But soon, enough Charles spots Lando and begins heading over. 

“Oh hello, my angel! How was Ferrari?” Lando coos, reaching out to take you from Charles, but you refuse, clinging onto him like a little crab.

“Baby.. c’mon, we gotta let Charles get back, okay? Come to daddy, my love…” You shake your head, still refusing. You want to stay with the nice, pretty man. 

“It’s okay, cherie, I will see you again soon, okay? I promise.” Charles hands you over to your dad, which you begrudgingly accept, blushing at his words.

Lando notices this, sending Charles an odd look. He gives him a short goodbye, before taking you to his driver’s room, where you are going to stay whilst he goes out for a practise session.

“You liked Charles then…?”

You just giggle, embarrassed again that people have noticed your slight infatuation with the pretty man.

“Baby… Charles is a boy, boys are stinky!!”

“Charles smells nice, daddy!” 

He sighs at that. He knows that there’s no winning with this, and he hates it. No matter how silly it may be, his tiny, perfect, angel daughter has a crush and he’s not happy. 

“No, darling, Charles is a boy, boys aren’t nice, okay?”

You frown at that, Charles was very nice to you…

The conversation ends there, Lando placing you in his driver’s room, with a member of the team to look after you, giving you a sweet kiss on the top of the head before he goes out to practise.

***

The next time that you get to see Charles is at Silverstone. You’re walking through the paddock with your Grandma and Grandpa when you see him.

You screech and toddle over to him. He gives you a similar grin, scooping you up into his arms.

“Salut, cherie! It has been so long!” He hugs you close, taking you into the Ferrari hospitality with him.

When his parents tell him that you have gone off with Charles, Lando is not happy. He marches to the Ferrari hospitality.

“Baby, it’s time to go now, okay?” He says, leaving no room for arguments as he grabs you from Charles’ arms.

You kick up a bit of a fuss, whining in protest and flailing your limbs about, but your dad’s mind is made up and you’re not strong enough to go against it. 

“Angel, I thought I told you that Charles was a meanie boy, hm?” He berates, with no real malice, as he walks you back to Mclaren.

“But Charlie is nice, daddy!”

“No, baby, all boys are mean and you will never ever ever like them, okay? You promise daddy? Daddy will look after you, forever and ever”

“I promise…” as much as you love Charles, in the end there is no one that you love quite as much as your daddy..

“Good girl, daddy loves you more than anything.”

~~~

a/n: tysm for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! send in any requests or if you just want a chat xx