#not even slightly and certainly not through tumblr posts

[zombie-eats-world]

Crocodad Theory: The not-so-Crack-pot Theory.

Making this post in order to replace my old Crocodad thesis since I think I can do better now. Plus I was still using the old theory name then and I dislike seeing it pinned on my tumblr now. You can find that older post HERE if you desire to!

Crocodad theory, chances are you have heard about this theory if you are even slightly invested in the One Piece fandom. But despite its infamy, and outside its stanch believers like myself, it's mostly considered a crack theory and used for a laugh.

Now let's be clear, Crocodad theory is not a crack theory. A crack or crack-pot theory is more of a headcanon built on vibes, it's a fun idea made up out of thin air and isn't really serious. If the Crocodad theory was a crack theory it would have evaporated into the nether by now. It's over a decade old, after all, and yet it persists to this day! That is because the Crocodad theory has real evidence from the canon, the One Piece offshoots, and maybe even Oda himself.

If you weren't aware of the Crocodad theory, sometimes lovingly called Dadodile, let me summarize it very succinctly. The theory is that Crocodile is a transgender man and gave birth to Luffy. Crocodile is Luffy's other father and his birthing parent. If you think that sounds ridiculous or even hilarious, let me walk you through it because I assure you- that is intentional.

Let us begin where the theory began... Impel Down.

The possibility for this theory was born in 2009 with these panels:

The simple fact that Ivankov exists and that he knows Crocodile, from "when he was just starting out" mind you, makes this not only possible but probable.

What other "secret" could Ivakov be speaking of here? It's definitely not his weakness to water, that would just be bad storytelling. It could be that Crocodile is the child of Rocks which is possible considering we now know Ivankov was at the Gods Valley incident. But if I could speak as a writer for a moment, it would really be a waste for an author to introduce a character that can change genders and then bring back one of the first big villains like Crocodile, AND THEN connect the two with the mention of weakness but not make that secret that Crocodile had once been a woman. Or even at least a part of the reason.

But if that reasoning falls through for you, here is some in-canon evidence for the idea that Crocodile is transgender:

First of all, the agents' code names are so gendered: Every single digit agent is Mr with a Mrs, or Ms partner.

Crocodile’s name. His moniker is different from almost every other powerful pirate the story introduces to us. He isn’t just Desert King Crocodile, he is Desert King Sir Crocodile. Again it is oddly pronoun-centered. As if he is trying to remind people that he’s a guy.

The introduction of Bon Clay. Bon Clay is our first canon queer character in One Piece. He makes mention of being a girl many times and feels like a joke character when we first meet him. But as we know in One Piece, a pirate crew is a reflection of the Captain. Crocodile isn’t prejudiced to queer people like Bon Clay alludes to others being a few times. Crocodile even allowed Bon Clay to be both the male and female of his team!

Next up was the reveal of Baby Crocodile and how it’s deliberating ambiguous what gender Crocodile is. In every other Warlord's childhood look reveal, their gender is obvious, so why was Crocodile left out of that?

Then of course we have Gold Roger's execution, and how almost everyone got a reaction panel. But not Crocodile. No, we only see the back of his head. Oda has shown that he loves to get every single character's reaction to major events, sometimes to a fault. So why is he trying so hard to hide Crocodile from us? It just isn’t Oda’s style to leave someone out unless there is some kind of secret he wants to build up too. Now be sure to keep this in mind for later.

Last but certainly not least is just how much of an absolute troll Oda is. This will not be the last time I bring this up, Oda is a HUGE troll. He loves to play to his favorite fan theories and he decides most everything on how funny it is. And wouldn't it be funny if the first antagonist in the Grandline was secretly the birth parent of Luffy?

I mean just look at this! Oda, you absolute troll.

Bottom line: Trans Crocodile is more likely than not.

But this is where a lot of people decide the rest of this theory is crack, they take Trans!Crocodile and leave Crocodad out for reasons I honestly can't understand. Despite that, Cracodad has just as much if not more evidence than the Transgender part of this theory.

Before I begin I would like everyone reading to keep a few things in mind. All throughout the Impel down arc and the journey to Marineford, and even the first few chapters into Marineford, Crocodile could not have given a shit about Luffy, Ace, or the war at all. He did not care who won the war or if everyone involved died. He came to the battlefield for the sole purpose of killing Whitebeard. PERIOD. He was never once shown reacting with any concern when Luffy began facing down anyone strong. Not even Magellan. Crocodile had been around Luffy, seeing him do inspiring things for a massive amount of chapters by the time we get to Marineford, and yet Crocodile literally didn't care if Luffy lived or died, he just wanted to fight Whitebeard.

With that clear let's move on to what happened after Luffy's father was revealed to the world in Marineford. This moment is where the most obvious evidence first came about:

When Sengoku announces Luffy's father to the world we get many reaction shots, but once again Crocodile is conveniently missing from the lineup. He even disappears for a whole chapter! The young man who took down his decade-long plan to take over Alabasta just got announced to be the most wanted man in the world son, and we get no reaction from Crocodile... its suspicious.

Crocodile stopped Ace’s execution: Now Crocodile explains this by saying he ‘didn’t want to let Sengoku have the pleasure of victory’ but seriously? What kind of petty ass BS reasoning is that?! Crocodile has dreams and ambitions, and yet he gives up trying to be the one to take down Whitebeard to randomly save someone he canonly mocks in Impel Down? Someone he doesn’t care about. Some people will tell you it’s because Luffy inspired him like Luffy does many others, but what exactly is Luffy doing in Marineford that he didn’t in Impel Down or even Alabasta? Nothing. That means Crocodile has an entire about-face for no believable reason while completely off-screen. Which we've already said isn't Oda's style.

Daz and Crocodile face Mihawk to help Luffy: When Daz blocks Mihawk’s strike, Luffy questions it. Daz answers: It’s an order from above! That means Crocodile ordered Daz to specifically protect Luffy. Again, why? What reason did he have to do that? If this was some latent Crocodile has been inspired™️ moment, why wouldn’t Oda show it? Oda loves to hype up those moments, and loves to detail it all to the smallest piece. But Crocodile just randomly decided to have his main man Daz look out for this person that he COULDN’T HAVE GIVEN A CRAP ABOUT JUST TEN EPISODES BEFORE does not fit within the story. Then, right after Daz blocks Mihawk, Crocodile appears out of the woodwork to block another attack.

When Mihawk questions why he’d protect Luffy, Crocodile’s only response is “I’m not in the best mood now, Mihawk, you better watch yourself.” It’s interesting that he has no reason, none, he just comments that he’s in a shit mood. Maybe because he just found out he once stabbed his own child in the gut and left him to die?!

Crocodile vs Akainu: The brother killing Lava Man™️ is probably the most dangerous person in the war. He has no mercy, no morals, no restraint. So the fact that as Luffy is lying comatose and weak, with Jimbe slumped over him, Akainu about to deliver the final blow, Crocodile coming out of nowhere once again is so telling.

The fact is: Crocodile went above and beyond to save Luffy. That final stand against Akainu is so powerful. Crocodile doesn’t just save Luffy, he rushes to Luffy's aid, slicing through Akainu and reassembles to stand protectively between them. He did not need to do this at all. Oda didn’t need to have him do this either!

There were plenty of other characters that could have essentially done the same exact thing, but Oda chose to have Crocodile, someone who shouldn’t have been on Luffy’s side at all, save his life in the final moment.

Lastly, without a word, Crocodile uses Sables to get Luffy to Law’s ship. He risked his life, faced down the one person who could kill him without a second thought, and sweeps Luffy away to safety without any stated reason at all. In fact, everything he says is deliberately vague. Crocodile doesn’t believe in loyalty, he dumps people if they are weak (see; Alabasta Crocodile vs Luffy desert fight) so his line of “you gotta protect the one you wanna protect! Don’t let them have their way!” Feels so out of character. Crocodile has to have a reason for this odd behavior. And no, it doesn’t end there! In the defense of Luffy, Crocodile has an awesome and powerful moment where he stands in unity with all the Whitebeard commanders. HIS ENEMIES. Crocodile stands in unity with the people, he himself stated he hated more than anything, for Luffy!

These are the moments that alerted people to what would soon be called the Crocomom theory, now called Crocodad. But just because it began there doesn't mean there wasn't foreshadowing from before Marineford.

Let's go over all of that now:

First to talk about is once again Crocodile's crew. Miss Father's Day debuted in episode 124 of the anime and chapter 205 of the manga. She has a green amphibian theme to her, which is interesting because she is a woman with the moniker Father's Day while also having a theme of an animal that is famous for being able to change its gender. Her debut episode even has her introduced along with the reveal that Luffy's using his blood to fight Crocodile.

The next point is something Oda has never explained. Crocodile has strange relationships with children. From hiring a sixteen-year-old Miss Goldenweek, leaving her out of the Mr. 3 assassination order, and her history of actually sinking Crocodile's ships before getting hired, all the way to how Crocodile lectured Luffy in their fight. It just had the cadence of a parent. Not even Luffy's parent, just a parent. He lectures like someone who has experience with children.

Next, Luffy does not look like Dragon. That is a direct quote from Luffy in the manga. But you know who he does look like?

That's right! Luffy looks a lot like Crocodile. If you need more convincing on this, there is a great post by Dashevacotton that puts together many of the best canon pictures of Luffy dressed up like Crocodile. That post is here!

Crocodile and Luffy are incredibly similar. Not just in looks, but in personality, and in their general life.

These two have so much in common. From having a way with animals, to the amount of unadulterated loyalty they've inspired in their crews, all the way to the cadence of their speech.

Crocodile and Luffy even have a similarly goofy reaction to seeing the underground passage to the Alabasta Poneglyph.

Episode 123, episode time 13:16 Crocodile spots the entrance and laughs, "Ha, now I see secret stairs." Also in episode 123, episode time 20:47 Luffy looks around and spots the secret stairs. "That hole... it looks gator-ish."

Even what we know of Crocodile's backstory is that he had a rapid rise to fame just like Luffy by being a rookie who came in and beat down non-canon characters like Douglas Bullet to the shock of the world.

Next, let's bring up an earlier point: Oda-sensei is a mega troll.

This isn't exactly new information, Oda once deflected to bringing up a dick fight instead of answering if Zoro or Sanji was stronger. He is a Troll. He loves wordplay, and he likes to hint hint nudge nudge us all day long. Just look at Oda having Sanji call himself a prince in Alabasta as a joke, only to realize years later that he actually was a prince.

It's because of Oda's tendency to play around and make knowing jokes we've gotten some pretty compelling evidence for the Crocodad theory.

First would be the wordplay!

-Crocodile is closely linked to a Bananawani-> Monkeys like Banana -> Monkey D. Dragon is a reptilian Monkey attracted to Banana reptile. Fight me - A 'crocodile smile' is a term most often used to mean a fake or ingenuine smile. Crocodile's scar has been liked to look like a 'crocodile smile', which would mean Crocodile is the only character that always has a smile on his face. What a fun bit of wordplay to foreshadow the birth parent of Joyboy!

Then there is this SBS alongside the One Piece School spin-off manga by Sohei Koj.

What a great way to get out of revealing Luffy's parentage without actually revealing it!

And of course, we have the One Piece Mafia Theatre episode of the anime.

Oda would certainly make this canon just because of his troll tendencies. This is a hilarious theory because the story supports it yet only a fringe group believes in it. It's hilarious and therefore it's probably true.

Lastly, the symbolism makes this theory truly great.

I've already mentioned how Crocodile's scar being a 'crocodile smile' and thus giving him a permanent smile on his face would make him the most meaningful candidate for Luffy's birth parent. Joyboy, our Sun God Nika, was born from a man with a permanent fake smile; who is also named after an animal with the world's biggest smile.

It's just such a perfect setup, it makes my writer's heart swell.

Since Oda has stated a mother in One Piece would stop the adventure, it would fit that the first major villain in the Grandline to try and stop Luffy's adventure ended up being the man who gave birth to Luffy.

If we are going to speak of symbolism, I'd be remiss not to mention what a crocodile spiritually symbolizes. I really don't think I need to explain why adaptability, creation, ambiguity, and duality mean so much to this theory.

This theory could die or be confirmed any day now that we've entered a God's Valley flashback. I will love it either way but truly, honestly, I believe this. I hope I convinced a few of you to. If you are interested in the succinct list of Crocodad evidence that post is Here!

So in conclusion...

Crocodad is canon!

#one piece fandom #one piece #sir crocodile #anime #dadodile #monkey d luffy #fan theory #until the oda plops luffys mom in front of me i will believe this theory #theories #there is literally no other explanation for marineford without dadodile #luffy literally looks like crocodile #not a crack theory #long reads #long post

[asklilmissrarity]

The Future of Lil Miss Rarity

Hello everyone, this is Jay Tonique (formerly known as Lil Miss Jay), the writer, artist, everything other than the music in the Lil Miss Rarity animation for the blog "Lil Miss Rarity."

As some of you know, Lil Miss Rarity was an ongoing outlet for my physical, verbal and emotional abuse I was suffering prior to and leading up to Lil Miss Rarity's release, October 11th 2011.

The blog took off so heavily that my entire artistic career became a viable future for me, allowing me to profit from my art, build a huge loving fanbase, and even allowing me to become something of a celebrity in the Brony community (even very much hated by a large portion of the community).

It's needless for me to say that Lil Miss Rarity not only changed but saved my life. I was on the verge of taking my own life around the time the blog was started, due to the abuse I was going through, and if it weren't for the success of the blog that fateful October week, I would certainly not be here, typing this right now. I owe my life to you all, and the support you've given me for this blog.

However, it's time for the news I know very few people want to hear. In fact, I'm sure just reading this line right here has people's hearts sinking, but please, don't be anxious, please read the full post.

I would like to say: Please read the full post, I am going to be very clear about the future.

Moving forward, Lil Miss Rarity will no longer be updated, and the blog is officially entirely over, as of this post.

I am still looking for a musician to commission a new song for the remake of the Lil Miss Rarity animation on YouTube, which will be my final major update involving the blog, and then I will be putting the blog entirely to rest. The animation will serve as a fond emotional farewell to Lil Miss Rarity.

However, that's not the end of the twisted grimdark storytelling. I have decided to make a spiritual successor, a new IP, entirely my own and not using My Little Pony as a crutch.

I won't get too into it, but I left the Brony fandom long ago. It was both the greatest thing to ever happen in my life, and the absolute worst thing to ever happen in my life. I met great friends, but also met unbelievably horrible sick people, many of which I literally got FBI involvement to deal with and many of which are literally in prison now.

Due to this, and many many more reasons I'm leaving out, I cannot and will not continue to be a part of the fandom. This is just a few reasons, as well, that continuing to have Lil Miss Rarity exist as a My Little Pony blog just doesn't make any sense to me.

So what am I doing moving forward?

A brand new IP called "Melodi." It's about a magic school student who is part of a wealthy family who goes on a magical twisted adventure in a horrifying grimdark world.

It will have characters either very slightly or very heavily inspired by the characters of Lil Miss Rarity, with Melodi of course being inspired by Rarity.

It will also be an ongoing web comic, similar to LMR, and will encourage fan feedback just as much as LMR did, but will not be an Ask Blog like LMR.

I plan to release character concepts for the cast of Melodi soon.

Now, there's probably a lot of questions moving forward, so I'll try to answer them now, as well as in asks on this blog, though I'd prefer you send the asks about Melodi to my main blog at http://www.jayisbutts.com/ask

Here's some questions I think will be asked, and I'll answer them here:

"Will this blog be on Tumblr?" - Yes, and on Patreon. Each update will be on Patreon first. When an update comes out on Patreon, the previous update will go public at the same time on Tumblr.

"Don't you think the LMR fanbase you've garnered for 12 years are gonna be upset about this?" - I'm 100% certain they will be, yes. However, I hope that most people who hear this news are excited to see Melodi in the future. I'm very proud of what I've created with LMR, and happy about how many lives I've changed and how many people have told me how much they love LMR. People with the heart-brand tattoo, people with LMR tattoos, people who cosplay as LMR, LMR fanart still being made regularly to this date, real-life Opal dolls, fan-dubs of the comic, fan animations, Anime Music Videos, etc etc etc. I love each and every one of you and I hope that I can one day garner the same amount of love for Melodi as I received for LMR. Thank you all so much for your support.

"What if someone else wants to carry on the LMR blog or use the characters to make their own?" - Please, do. LMR is officially Public Domain as of this post, and I strongly encourage LMR fan-fiction, fan-blogs, etc. I would love if someone could do LMR better than I did. I will very happily use this blog going forward to showcase new LMR blogs and fan-content that I like, and I will very gladly be a guest artist from time to time on an update or two to those blogs. You all have my blessing to take LMR and do with her whatever you want.

"Are you still remaking the LMR animation?" - Yes, I'm still actively seeking a musician to make an official LMR theme that will play in the background of it. It will be a glorious farewell to LMR.

"Is the heart-brand still a thing in Melodi?" - Absolutely, yes. The one incredibly major staple being carried over to Melodi is the heart brand. That symbol has become synonymous with LMR.

"What about the eye scars?" - Probably not. There will be facial scarring of some kind, yes, but considering the new story will not involve killing a cat (not yet anyway), she probably won't have the eye scars.

"Black eye with white pupil?" - We'll see! (It is a sign of Malice's corruption to have a black left eye, so almost certainly yes, but we'll see!)

"Ponies? Humans? Furries?" - I haven't fully decided. In my head, Melodi is a human, but I could also see her being a cat. I'm not sure what I wanna do just yet. However, she will not be a pony. She's gonna be far more human shaped. With boobies.

"Is this one gonna have porn?" - Nope! Not directly as part of the blog, no. Sexual encounters are going to happen in a very fade-to-black way, or a cropped-off-screen sort of way, yes. And there will be sexy characters, like monster girls or demon girls, and I'm sure people will find Melodi herself sexy, too. However, the blog is not going to contain actual porn. No full nudity. It will have what some would refer to as "fetish content," as with LMR, but it's not porn.

"Final question, so... LMR is just... dead? As of now?" - In terms of receiving updates from me, all that will be made is the LMR animation. But no, I certainly hope LMR is not dead. I would love to see the blog live on through other artists I've inspired. You all have my blessing to keep her alive forever.

Thank you all so much for your support.

More news involving Melodi and her twisted adventures coming soon.

I love you all, and I want you all to know how much your support of Lil Miss Rarity has changed my life.

I know it's cringe to type this, but, "I'm literally crying right now."

Mommy will always be pretty.

~Jay Tonique (Formerly Lil Miss Jay)

#lil miss rarity

[nightdivinity]

Drink Responsibly! Prologue

ABO!Vampire!Batfam x reader

Minors! Do! Not! Engage! +18 only.

Platonic! Alfred, Bruce x reader, Possessive! Batboys x reader

Warnings: Alcohol, bad choices, stupid choices, possessive behavior, a/b/o fic, there is slight blood and gore, it's a vampire au, age gaps, because they're all significantly older, it's going to get suggestive from here on out, reverse harem, slight proofreading

Writer's Note: I want to thank @sophiethewitch1 for inspiring me and talking me through posting my writing. I hope it doesn't let you down! This is also my first time posting my writing on Tumblr, please be gentle. English is not my first language. Also, this is a why choose fic. So, it's Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian x reader. Maybe even Duke. I think four is a lot. Got to draw the line somewhere. Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow.

It was midnight when you finally stumbled out of the latest club. Your heels were long gone, as you had taken them off the first time they got stuck in a grate. You’re pretty sure you handed them to a nice girl in the bathroom while her friend held your hair as you threw up copious amounts of alcohol and bar food. She had been super nice, you liked the way her short black hair was spiked, and her blonde friend’s eyeliner was superb. Anyways, now you are shoeless and desperately looking for the next bar on your crawl.

Gin’s. Ooh, that’ll do. You reach out and grab your friend’s bicep, point at the neon sign, and do vague gestures. Of course, your friend is not as well off as you are, so it takes a while to get your point across. Only they start crying again over their bullshit bar fling, and the fact you have no shoes.

It didn’t matter, none of it truly mattered. Not a single thing. This was your one night off after weeks of back-to-back grueling shifts at a job that doesn’t care whether you live or die. Yesterday you even took a quick unintentional power nap on the toilet. All of this resulted in you being slightly crazed and a little deranged as your night progressed.

But hey, Gotham just brings that out in people. In your job's defense, no one could take any more sick or inclement weather days thanks to all the random villain attacks next to or at your office. You blame the monthly rut.

At least you didn’t get stuck on the subway taped to a bench by the Riddler this week as he awkwardly rifled through a notebook of pickup lines. Life was certainly looking up.

See, unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the propaganda you consumed, you were born an Omega. Which had never truly been an issue. Except for the fact that thanks to a few foul choices from the government, it was getting harder and harder to get access to affordable pheromone blockers. You wouldn’t have even chanced this outing if you hadn’t found that one pill that rolled a little under your cabinet. Hey, you were desperate for a night out.

“I’m going there”, you slur.

Yes, this was asinine, but you still managed to wheel yourself and your friend to Gin’s. You hardly noticed the dark shadows following you as your friends from the bathroom quietly herded you. As you and your friend jaywalked across the street, you didn’t notice the red-headed woman standing in the middle of the road, blocking traffic from actually hitting you. It also barely registered when the nice boy with flashing gold eyes took your hand and led you past the line and directly to the front. This. Was. Your. Night. Out.

“Hey man, she can’t come in here with no shoes”, the bouncer at the door complains.

He was going to say more until he looked at the man holding your hand so nicely. You could hear the slight choking noise, and in your drunken stupor, you stumbled a little into your guide.

“He’s going to shit himself”, you stage-whisper. Or what you think was whispering. You were screaming over the pounding bass spilling out of the door.

                “Shhh, Jackson, she’s with me”, your guide replies.

                “She can come in, her friend can’t. Sorry Duke, they’re way too fucked up”, the bouncer swears.

                You gasp and let go of Duke’s hand, instead reaching for your friend and pulling them tight into your embrace. While smashing their face into your chest. Even though you were the most drunk you’ve ever been, you didn’t miss the spike in pissed-off Alpha vibes that happened around you. Still, you smacked a hand against your friend’s ear in an effort to protect them from what was said. Then you got sidetracked by their hair. It reminded you that you wanted a pet. Although with your work and class schedule, it would probably die in a week. Three days tops. At least you had your emotional support friend.

                “I can’t leave them alone”, you say.

                “Hun, how about I call them an Uber, they look like they’re ready to pass out. They definitely can’t handle it anymore”, Duke replies.

                He gestures towards your friend, and you notice how they’re slowly swaying on their feet. Eyes half closed. Shit. It would be shitty if you left them passed out somewhere in the bar as you danced and drank. They were already on their fourth wind and fading fast.

                “Look, you see this nice car”, Duke continues.

                He turns you three, and suddenly you notice the nice black town car next to the road. You vaguely register the fact that it’s one of those high-roller cars. Ones that only the richest in Gotham could afford.

                “See, this is Killian, he works for Wayne Enterprises. He’ll make sure your friend makes it home. I’ll even have him text you when they get there. Won’t that be nice? You don’t have to worry at all (y/n).”, he tells you.

                You nod, and it all makes sense somehow in your drunken brain. He knows your name, so obviously you know him. He also knows your friend, since he rattles off their address and gently pries them from your clutches before handing them off to Killian.

You pay no mind to the mention of a name that would have sent shivers down your spine normally. Wayne. Mysterious and dangerous to all who get involved.

                “I need them back, don’t sell their organs”, you warn.

                Then he gives you a tight brisk smile as he turns away from you. A persistent thought is starting to nag its way through the cotton in your head. The slightest unsettling feeling. Maybe there was something wrong with that blocker pill you found on the floor of your kitchen. You were certainly feeling as though there were a lot of pissed-off Alphas near you. The undercurrent of anger was a tang you couldn’t escape. More and more you felt the need to run somewhere dark and quiet to hide.

                You ignore the persistent tugging by Duke as you watch your friend get loaded into the car and driven away. Well. That ends that.

                The next time Duke tugs on your hand, it causes you to slightly stagger. He easily catches you and spins you around and through the door before you can protest.

                “Can I have a Rum and Coke?”, you shout over the music.

                “Yeah totally”, Duke shouts back.

                It’s only until you are tugged past the bar that you realize that everything is not all sunshine and daisies. No. No. This is wrong. You want to go back.

                You put your heels in. Duke was not ready for resistance as your hand slid out of his grasp on the way to the V.I.P. section. He turns around to get a better hold of you, only to watch you slip into the crowd and get lost in the sea of swaying bodies. Fuck. He was told to bring you to them. You still had to be here, there’s no way you could have bumbled off far. Shit. One job.

                Duke ran a palm over his face as he scanned the crowd. There’s no doubt in his mind. Bruce was going to be pissed. He wasn’t supposed to know about your little excursion out. Everyone had agreed, they would watch over you as the day turned. You still weren’t used to Gotham; you didn’t know the sort of creatures that came out during the night. While the rest of the world was happy and filled with normal and meta shifters, Gotham was overflowing with the less-than-stable. All more than happy to take a bite out of the innocent. The only thing that kept it in check was the unspoken King and his disgraced hellions.

If you had been sober, you would have noticed the people slowly disappearing from the crowd. You would have noticed that tonight was absolutely not a good night to be out. One by one, shrieks of fear and pain were mistaken for fun. Jostling in the crowd was hardly registered as the violence spread. The whole night, you were in a sea of sharks feeding. Now you had finally ditched what you didn’t know was your only protection.

                 Not to worry, fear splashes hot and cold against your nerves as sharp claws grip your arm, your back slamming into the bar as a distended jaw hisses open in front of you.

                Yeah. Maybe you should have been drinking responsibly.

#abo batfam x reader #vampire batfam x reader #batfam x reader #how many tags am i supposed to be making #is this yandere? I'm going to go ahead and tag it #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #I'm dying from all this #Can and will be crying later

[stupidlittlespirit]

Good Boy

Rating: NSFW (very!), mdni Type: Longform Tags: webcam show, voyeurism, sex work, masturbation, female body described, one use of gendered language ('ma'am'), virgin!Reigen, pathetic!Reigen, Word count: 5797 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Reigen finds your webcam show and proceeds to be a pervert.

“Should I send my boss a video of what I'm busy doing?” You ask, rocking your ass back and forth. The skirt lifts when you bend down and Reigen catches a peek of your underwear when you lean over a little more. You turn until your back is to the camera and then begin to lift the skirt higher and higher as you dance, tantalisingly slow.

Reigen squeezes the base of his cock and smirks to himself. “I wouldn't bother.”

He finds the video by complete accident.

Reigen is scrolling aimlessly through the feed of his favourite porn sites, rows upon rows of explicit content at his fingertips as he trolls through videos he's seen so many times before he has them practically memorised. They don't do anything for him anymore.

He's bored of the repetitive scenarios and over the top acting, and if he has to watch another shitty, stilted skit again he's going to stop jerking off for the rest of his life in protest.

Well. Maybe he won't go that far, but he's certainly fed up with the lack of excitement.

It's closing in on one 1AM on a Friday night and Reigen is spending yet another weekend all on his own. Serizawa is busy with school friends, Dimple isn't in the mood to find a host body for a night out and Mob is likely fast asleep. If he's honest, even Reigen knows how pathetic he'd look if he asked a kid to spend his afterschool time with him.

The only other person he has to ask out is you. You're the newest member of the team and even though you've been out with all of them a fair few times, tonight you'd dismissed his suggestions with the simple excuse of being busy.

You hadn't specified what you were going to be busy with, but Reigen supposes it isn't really any of his business. He can't deny his disappointment, though.

He'd hoped you might jump at the chance for one on one time with him, and whilst he stares at the screen of his computer, desperate for something to make him feel less lonesome, the sting of your rejection is only softened slightly by the alcohol he's had for dinner.

At his feet, there are several cans of chuhai. Every time he drinks alone in his apartment, he finds that he only has two options when no one wants to be around him. One: get so wasted that he passes out before he can think too much about his misery or two: jerk off to prevent himself from thinking about his misery.

Right now, Reigen is reasonably drunk, he's totally lonely, and most of all, he's horny. He supposes he may as well achieve both outcomes at once tonight. He isn't looking for anything in particular right now, just something that might take the edge off and help him sleep a little better. His expectations of finding anything particularly exciting are very low.

However, perched at his PC, shirtless and in his sweatpants, Reigen is starting to think it might be a waste of time. Nothing seems of interest to him. It's either too weird or too boring, and he wonders if he might be better off just calling it a night.

In a last ditch attempt, he switches from his typical porn site to a newer one. One he hasn't tried before. Usually he'd watch something pre-recorded, but he faintly remembers reading something on a forum somewhere about the newest trend of cam girls.

The post had detailed how viewers could make requests for a performer to do whatever they wanted, all live and in real-time, and he has to admit it sounds a lot more interesting than viewing the same video over and over.

He clicks the first link that pops up from his search.

The website is simplistic and once he's clicked through his verifications, Reigen begins to scan the rows of people on offer. There are women and men and everything in between, but every time he selects one, the performer seems bored and uninspired. Sometimes, they're not even there.

Reigen tries the second page. He's halfway down it, not really paying full attention anymore, when abruptly one of the little preview windows looks vaguely familiar.

Squinting, he leans in to get a better view to try and place where he's seen that room before. The decor in the thumbnail looks like a place he's seen before, but he can't quite put his finger on where.

Reigen clicks it and at first, he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing. That decor, the colour of the walls, the furniture…. It's your apartment. He knows because he's been there; he's crashed on that very floor after several messy nights out, right beside the cushy bed that the camera is centered on.

He's absolutely, definitely, a hundred percent sure that that's your room.

For a second, he worries that someone might have snuck into your apartment and hidden a spy camera amongst your things without your knowledge. It's not unheard of for creeps to conceal webcams in places to catch footage of unsuspecting victims and although Reigen likes his fair share of voyeuristic content, he would never watch something that wasn't clearly a purposely set up scenario.

He reaches for his cell phone where it rests besides his keyboard, fully intending to call you and make you aware, when suddenly you're walking into frame and sitting on the bed, dressed only in your underwear, some sheer stockings and a ridiculously tiny little skirt.

You shoot the camera a coy smile and offer a little wave. “Welcome back, everyone.”

Reigen's jaw drops open.

You're on his fucking porn site.

You. Of all people.

Stunned, he watches you shift so that you can lie down on your bed, lounging leisurely on top of a thick, comfy looking blanket that covers your bedspread.

The lighting is low and moody, but there's a clearly a softer source of light emanating from somewhere behind the camera to ensure your half naked body can be seen properly.

Music is playing gently in the background, and beside the bed is a small table, on which rests a small selection of intimidating looking sex toys. There are a couple of interesting looking dildos, a chunky vibrator, and a few bottles of oil or something similar.

He watches you lean forward slightly to apparently read something on screen, your eyes scanning back and forth. Your tits press against the fabric of your bra as you shuffle up where you're resting, leaning forward to fiddle with what he assumes is your computer.

Reigen’s throat suddenly feels very dry.

Barely five hours ago, you'd been wishing him a nice weekend as you'd left the office, heading off for home to spend the weekend doing something that didn't include him. When you'd told him that you'd been too busy to go for a drink with them, he hadn't thought much of it.

Perhaps you'd been lying. Perhaps the real reason you'd said no had been to go and do this....

Briefly, he wonders if he's seeing things. Perhaps the room is simply similar to yours and you're not really you at all. Just another person who looks exceptionally similar.

He decides he needs to make sure that what he's stumbled across is the truth and not an unbelievably accurate illusion.

Reigen reaches for his phone again. Your face is just out of frame now and he can't be 100% sure that it's really you, but he's certain that he needs to find out. To test his theory, he types out a simple text, something casual to ensure that you'll have no idea that he's watching, and waits to see what happens.

[Reigen] - Hey, are you busy?

On screen there's a buzzing sound. You twist into a kneeling position to reach behind you and his blood runs cold. There's no way that it's a coincidence your phone is going off right now.

As he watches you shuffle back up to sit closer to the camera again, your pretty face comes into view and so does your cell phone, head aloft like a trophy. No doubt about it: this is no look alike.

You study your phone, reading the text and then glancing over to look at your audience. "Oh," You say, holding your phone up with a cheeky grin. “It's my boss.”

Underneath the video screen, there's a chatbox that's scrolling along, ticking upwards with each new message that pings through, and you look away from your phone to check it.

Several new chats pop up at your announcement and Reigen somehow manages to tear his eyes away from you to see what's being said.

What does he want? asks one viewer.

You laugh, soft and amused. “He wants to know if I'm busy.”

Your voice is softer than Reigen used to hearing it; teasing and intimate in a way that does something funny to his insides. A few more messages spin up in the chat:

is he cute?

Do you like him?

Would you fuck him?

Reigen swallows hard.

It's not like he hasn't thought about it. He's considered it several times, actually. In great, vivid detail. When he can't find any decent porn to get off too, he often finds thoughts of you wandering into his mind. Reigen knows it’s weird and unethical, but if no one else is aware then it's not like anyone can be hurt by it.

He's harboured a crush on you since the moment you'd walked into the office to drop off your CV and he hasn't known peace since. Every time you bend over to pick up files, he sneaks a peek at your ass. Whenever you brush up against him in passing, he prays he doesn't get hard. It's a nightmare.

When he's alone and he's given up on finding an ethical source of arousal for the evening, he’ll think about you in your office wear, or your underwear, or sometimes in nothing at all.

He's always had to imagine what you might look like naked and for some reason, he's never been able to get the vision to seem quite right. With nothing to reference, it's hard to know beyond the silhouette hidden by your clothes.

Until now, anyway.

You're leaning in close to look at the chat messages again, your tits pressed up against the thin fabric of your bra. They jiggle nicely as you move and Reigen feels his cock stir in his sweatpants. He reaches for the half-empty can of chuhai beside his PC and takes a swig to soothe his dry mouth.

“Oh yeah,” you say, biting down your lower lip. “Very cute. I'd fuck him anytime.”

Reigen almost chokes on his mouthful of fruity alcohol, spluttering awkwardly.

You begin to run your fingers up between the valley of your breasts, reaching over to toy with the lace cups of your bra and dipping your fingertips underneath the material to brush against your nipples.

“He's got such a great ass,” you whisper to the camera, biting down on your lip to stifle a smile. “I check him out all the time but he never catches me. What do you think he'd do if he did?”

Reigen's breath hitches. His face feels red hot at your confession and he knows that he's probably bright red, but can't believe what he's hearing.

The chat bumps up several rows, filled with suggestions and fantasies:

He'd punish you.

Probably promote you lol.

I bet he'd fuck you in the office.

“He would,” Reigen groans out loud to his empty room. “You have no idea how much he would.”

He's had plenty of daydreams about that exact scenario; bending you over his desk when everyone else has gone home for the day or letting you ride him while he sits in his office chair, slow and sweet until he fills you up. The thought drives him insane.

Almost of its own accord, his hand slips down to palm at his dick. There's a steadily growing wet patch on the front of his pants as pre cum begins to gather at the head and the slick friction of the fabric there only arouses him more.

“Ah,” you gasp happily as you pinch one of your nipples. “I wish.”

After a few seconds of touching your tits, you trace your hand up towards your collarbone and run your fingertips along them, back and forth slowly. It's teasing, erotic almost, and Reigen imagines your delicate fingers on his own skin, tickling along the soft flesh of his thighs or clutching at his back.

He's still reeling at your admitted attraction to him. He knows there's a chance that you're only playing things up for the camera, but he's so hard and so turned on by the notion that you might be into him that he doesn't care how true it is right now.

Rather than worry too much about the legitimacy, he hooks his thumb into the waistband of his sweats without looking away from the screen and shuffles in his seat so that he can expose his cock fully.

He knows he shouldn't really be watching this. He isn't even sure why you're on this website; he pays much more than he used to and there's no way you're short for cash, so you're not moonlighting to make ends meet. Maybe you just enjoy it?

The idea thrills him and so does the knowledge that what he's doing is forbidden. Again, he supposes that if you have no clue that he's watching you right now then he can excuse his actions…. Right?

“It's so unprofessional,” You're almost whispering now, talking softly as your touch travels to different parts of your body. “But I think about it all the time.”

Reigen reaches for the small bottle of lube that sits in the corner of his desk while you talk, squeezing some out onto the fingers of one hand. He trails it around his dick slowly, ignoring the chill and covering himself until the skin is slick and wet.

The chat pings again, except this time there's the sound of coins dropping. A pink message appears:

[400 coins] Ass shake/Dance

Briefly, Reigen is confused. He has no idea what that means and his hand pauses to check the message. Next to it is a little cartoon coin, and he realises that you've been tipped money to do an activity.

You smile brightly, however, clearly pleased by the strange sound, and slowly you get up from your seat. “Thank you so much!” You giggle, blowing a kiss to the camera.

He watches you stand and fiddle with something that looks like a TV remote, and then the quiet music in the background becomes a little louder. You begin to sway your hips in time with the beat of the music, turning on the spot slowly.

“Should I send my boss a video of what I'm busy doing?” You ask, rocking your ass back and forth.

The skirt lifts when you bend down and Reigen catches a peek of your underwear when you lean over a little more. You turn until your back is to the camera and then begin to lift the skirt higher and higher as you dance, tantalisingly slow.

Reigen squeezes the base of his cock and smirks to himself. “I wouldn't bother.”

Your skirt recedes to reveal the bare skin of your ass. You're wearing lacy underwear that barely covers your pussy and Reigen groans at the sight, watching closely as you wiggle your hips until the fat of your ass wobbles deliciously.

He barely gets ten seconds worth of a look before you're moving back to sit on your bed, and he can't help the disappointment that rises in him.

With his free hand, Reigen takes a chance and bravely types out a message in chat:

[anon] - keep going

“Ah ahh,” you chastise, clearly reading the command he's sent through. “Tip to make requests, boys, you know the rules.”

Reigen isn’t sure what he's more turned on by; the business sense or your bossy attitude.

One handed, he swiftly clicks through on the link that auto generates in chat to make an account. He spares a thanks that modern technology allows him to keep his credit card info saved online and as soon as everything has gone through, he comes right back to your room.

The chat spits out a menu, triggered by the forbidden request, that clearly states an extensive menu of services. There are lots of options, and Reigen's mouth begins to salivate as he scrolls down the list. Whilst he's busy reading, another tip comes in from a different user:

[800 coins] - topless

“Oh,” you say, grinning as you reach for your bra straps. “Stepping things up, huh?”

Your comment makes Reigen look up again and his stomach flips when he realises what's about to happen.

Teasing, you thumb down each strap, letting them fall down to your sides. You reach behind yourself to undo the clasp and very gradually, you lower the pretty lingerie until finally, the lace falls away to expose your chest to the camera.

Reigen stares at the screen, mouth open, and his hand begins to stroke his cock. He's imagined seeing your naked chest more times than he can recall but his mind's eye is nothing in comparison to the real (or rather, virtual) thing. They're gorgeous. Perfect, in fact. He's not sure that he's ever seen anything better.

Embarrassed as he is to admit, Reigen has never actually seen anyone naked in real life. He's never even fucked another person, but he's seen his fair share of porn and none of those videos compare to you.

Every fantasy he's ever had has been completely imaginary and he doesn't dare make a move to find sex in real life; being an adult virgin is horribly embarrassing and he doesn't want to risk being laughed at. For now, he'll stick to his usual viewing habits.

“Fuck.” Reigen mutters, breath hitching. His hand works the length of his cock, fist tight and slick with lube, and on screen you're reaching up to play with your nipples again.

Enraptured by your image, he tightens his grip on the bottom of his dick every time you pinch yourself gently.

You take both tits in hand and squeeze them together, biting your lower lip and grinning as chat messages pour through. It's evident that you're enjoying yourself and it makes Reigen feel slightly less guilty for being a pervert.

The languid strokes of his cock become even slower while he types out the message he'd intended to send before, heart pounding in anticipation:

[950 coins] - remove skirt/underwear

The jingle of the tip plays and your eyes light up. “Oh,” you say, leaning forward to check the request. “You're new here.”

Momentarily, Reigen's hand pauses. His username is just a randomly generated set of numbers. There's no way you'd be able to tell his true identity from, yet he briefly panics that you might have rumbled him. He holds his breath for a second.

You nibble your lower lip and smile, but his cover isn't blown. “You guys are excited today, hm?” You laugh, getting up again and shifting the camera to ensure everyone can see what you're doing.

Carefully, you make a show of lifting up your skirt and undoing the side clasp before letting it fall to the floor with a soft thump. The panties you're wearing are tiny, yet they cover you well enough that it's hard to see much just yet. You give your ass a little shake again and bend over, spreading your legs.

Relieved, Reigen's hand begins to move again and without looking away, he shirks his sweatpants completely. His body feels hot all over and being constrained by his clothing feels unbearably uncomfortable. He kicks the trousers away from him and grins at your excited laughter.

“How's the view?” You ask, squeezing your ass gently.

“Perfect,” Reigen grunts, as though you can hear him.

You're reaching between your legs now, stroking your covered pussy up and down, and Reigen moans quietly. Chat messages are stacking up below your video screen, but he only has eyes for you right now.

Deliberately unhurried, you drag your hand back through your legs and take hold of the waistband of your panties. You pull the fabric down, down, down, slipping it over your round ass until finally you're baring yourself to the world in the most intimate way.

Wetness clings to your underwear when you tug it away and you're visibly aroused by the movement, making a soft sound of pleasure.

Reigen almost cums immediately. He grits his teeth and exhales sharply, letting go of his cock and willing himself not to finish early. It would be a shame to spend himself so soon and he wants nothing more than to spend all night staring into you.

“Like that?” You ask your audience, voice a little muffled now that you're turned away.

Several messages affirm that they do, in fact, like what they're seeing.

Reigen breathes heavily through his nose and rolls his chair closer to the monitor again. He takes a second to calm himself down, though he doesn't stop watching you wiggle your backside, and once he feels capable, he types out another request:

[1000 coins] - touch yourself

This time, he follows it up with a ‘please’ and you turn slightly to see what's happening.

You smirk and move back toward the bed, choosing to sit down and spread your legs this time. The view is still perfectly clear and Reigen finds that he likes this much better; he can see your pretty face, your tits and your wet pussy all at once. Hand firm on his dick, he starts to jerk off again.

“Do you like what you see?” You giggle, hand wandering southwards.

“Fuck, yeah I do.” Reigen groans, swiping his thumb over the head. The motion sends a shiver through his body and he fumbles with his free hand and keyboard to type out an affirmative answer.

You smile, coy, and stop your fingers just above your clit. “And what do we say when we want something?”

Reigen swears under his breath. He likes this; being forced to ask nicely and hope that he's given what he wants. He doesn't know why he enjoys it, but the idea of having to plead for your attention and his own release does something undeniable to his body, and he loves every second.

The flush on his face travels down his neck and burns the tips of his ears, spurred on by his myriad of emotions.

With one sweaty hand he types out:

please

touch yourself, please

The smile that comes to your face when you notice his message is positively wicked and your hand drops lower, gathering wetness. “I think you can ask even more nicely than that, can't you?”

He doesn't care that he's paid for a simple act. What he's getting right now is more arousing than anything he could have ever dreamt of receiving. The way his cock twitches in his hand suggests his body agrees. “Please.” Reigen whispers to his empty room, voice breaking. “Fuck, please, touch your fucking pussy for me.”

Panting and moaning with every stroke of his fist, Reigen shakily taps out another desperate response.

plsaase

pls

im begging u

It's obviously the right response because you do exactly as he asks: your fingers begin to brush over your clit and you gasp at the contact. Gently, you rub yourself in tiny circles. Your skin glistens in the light and even with the music playing, he can hear your moans and sighs when your touches speed up.

Reigen jerks himself off in time with your movements. His apartment fills with the wet, oily noises of his lubed up palm on his dick and his heavy breathing, broken only by his pathetic begging for more. “Oh god,” he whines, leaning forward in his seat to grip the edge of his desk. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He wants to ask for more, to see you get even more explicit, however he worries that if he lets go of his desk he might keel over. Fortunately for Reigen, another request pings in. This one goes even further.

The anonymous user tips a significant amount and much to Reigen's horny delight, asks you to use one of the larger sex toys on the table next to your bed.

A few minutes pass in which you continue to touch your clit and Reigen realises that you're getting caught up in this yourself. You're so lost in your own pleasure that you're too busy to see what your audience want.

It turns him on no end.

Eventually, you force yourself to pause and glance at the chat. There are a few annoyed messages about you ignoring them, but you pay them no mind, instead saying a breathless thank you to the new requester and reaching for a sizable, pink dildo. It's thick and decently long, and you hold it out for him to see properly.

“Should I use this one?” Your voice is fraying at the edges, strained from all your noise.

Oh yeah

Fuck yeah use it

Do it

You don't appear to need much encouragement and you sit back on your elbows, legs spreading even wider as you rub the head of the fake cock over your pussy.

Reigen imagines that instead of cool, false plastic, it's his dick that you're grinding your hips into. He pictures himself between your legs, gently slapping the swollen tip of his cock against the soft, wet folds of your cunt whilst you squirm and groan in pleasure. His moans are getting louder now, unrestrained and wrecked, and he knows he sounds like a girl but he can't find it in himself to give a fuck.

Again, he almost cums, but rather than let it happen he allows himself to get as close as he dares and then stops touching completely. He has plenty of time to draw this out; you haven't even put the dildo in yet.

You're still circling it around your hole slowly, grinning and chewing on your lip in anticipation of what's to, rather ironically, come.

Sweat trickles down Reigen's neck. He's over stimulated and unbearably turned on, body red hot and flushed. He reaches for his drink again and takes a quick gulp before picking right up where he left off.

“Wanna see me fuck myself?” You tease, peering at the message box.

Reigen is the only one who responds. He knows it's likely because every other person in here is too busy getting off to answer, yet he seizes the chance to catch your attention.

yes please

Your warm smile returns and he finds himself smiling too, enjoying the way your expression softens. “You're a sweetheart, aren't you?” You say fondly, sitting up a bit more.

Reigen grins and nods, even though he knows you can't see him. He dials up his politeness, practically gagging for your attention, and moves his hand down to stroke along the sides of his dick, teasing himself as he type:.

yes ma'am

Something changes in your gaze at his message, hot and intense, and you start to circle your clit again. “Ask me again.” You sigh happily. “Be a good boy.”

Reigen's brain almost short circuits at your comment. He moans again and tips his head back, hand working hard between his legs. “Oh, my god.” He chokes out, scrambling to answer via his keyboard. “Fuck, that's- say that again.”

please ma'am

pls fuck urself

ill do anything i swear

just call me that again

You're clearly entertained by his request. Even more so, you appear to be turned on by it. Slow and steady, you ease the dildo into yourself, keening loudly at the sensation yet still managing to fulfill Reigen's request.

“Good boy,” you breathe, smiling wide. “You're such a good boy for me.”

Reigen makes a humiliating noise. It's a mix of a moan and a sob, and he stops jerking his cock in favour of fucking his own hand instead. His hips buck forward wildly, uncontrollable and desperate, and he attempts to match the tempo in which you fuck yourself.

He watches in awe as you drive the dildo into your cunt, arousal dripping down the length of it and leaving it shiny and slick.

“Oh, fuck,” Reigen chokes out breathlessly, grinding into his fist like he's fucking you himself. “Don't stop, fuck, don't stop.”

His moans mix with yours on screen and if he could bear to close his eyes, he might imagine that this is what it feels like to be inside you. As it is, he can't bear to look anywhere but at you.

Your hand is moving quickly now, pumping the toy in and out while you rub your clit just as fast, crying out in pleasure.

Reigen's girly moans pick up in pitch and he begs you with everything he has: “Keep going, please, I-ha! You feel so good, so good, fuck!”

As though you can hear his pleas, you don't relent your movements. Your tits bounce with the force that you're fucking yourself with and you groan every time you hit a good spot.

It's obvious that you're no longer playing along with whatever your audience wants; You're lost in the sensation and Reigen is completely beside himself, right there with you.

His chair rocks and creaks underneath his moving weight and he scrunches up his bare toes against the wooden flooring to stay put, listening to you as you continue to encourage him.

“You're my good boy, aren't you?” You pant, eyes closed. “Touching yourself just like I asked….”

“Yeah,” Reigen whimpers. “I swear, just for you, whatever you want.”

“Fuck,” you sigh on screen, angling the toy. “Fuck.”

Reigen can barely breathe. He's sweating profusely, rivulets trickling down his brow and blurring his vision, and he can feel something tight and white hot coiling in his lower belly.

The pressure is building slowly, growing with every pass of his fist and every moan you make on his monitor, and his ability to speak unravels. He's babbling about anything and everything, eyes darting from your pussy to your face, and the feeling in his belly spikes.

“Oh, god, oh fuck,” he whines, long and low. “I'm gonna cum, I'm- please, let me cum!” His pathetic moans hitch and in their lull, he hears you speak a single word that sends him crashing over the edge:

“Reigen!”

You cry his name quietly, sweeter than a prayer, and shudder as you climax with him.

Unable to stop it, Reigen's orgasm hits him so hard he almost blacks out for a moment. He cums hard, spilling all over his fist and stomach, his toes curling and body convulsing with intense pleasure. He ducks his head and shouts something unintelligible, drool dripping down from his open mouth to mix with the mess on his hand.

The aftershock of his orgasm has him spasming in its wake, muscles twitching and cramping as he heaves for breath. Reigen releases his cock and slumps back in his chair, panting hard like he's run a marathon.

He's fairly confident that it might be the best orgasm he's ever had.

On screen, the music has stopped and there's only the sound of your laboured breathing filling the silence. You're panting hard, pussy spread by your toy, and you look wrecked. Your hair is a mess, your eyes are half-lidded, and underneath you the blanket is soaked.

Reigen wipes the sweat from his forehead with his clean hand and takes a few minutes to gather his bearings. He sees you remove the toy slowly and place it back on the bedside table before you sit back down, cross legged, on the bed. You avoid the wet patch, wrinkling your nose and flipping the blanket over to prevent yourself from sitting on it, and you pause to catch your breath. Your chest rises and falls rapidly for a minute, and he watches you catch your breath.

Clearly you're a seasoned professional however, because you go back to checking your chat messages only minutes later. Every user in the room is overjoyed with your performance and Reigen has to agree. He's never seen a porno anywhere near as sexy as what he just witnessed and he's not sure he ever will.

Reigen reaches over for the box of tissues next to his computer and carefully wipes up the mess on his hand. There's cum on the floor too and when he's confident that his jelly-like legs won't let him fall off the chair, he leans down to clean it up.

Once everything is less sticky, Reigen checks the chat. There are a good few messages pinging up and they make him smile, big and stupid, and more than a little smug:

Who is Reigen?

Fuck, he's a lucky guy

Wish I was him

Listening to you moan his name, watching your face whilst you'd fucked yourself silly, it's all imprinted on his brain forever.

He's still reeling over the fact that it was his name on your lips as you came. You've never shown interest in him like that, at least not to his knowledge, and if you've been getting yourself off to the thought of him anywhere near as much as he has to you, Reigen wonders if it might be worth catching a few more of these streams until he can find the courage to see if you might want to to go out sometime.

You're putting your lingerie back on when he looks back up to you again. There's a glow to you that only appears after a good fucking and Reigen's stomach summersaults. He knows that the small crush he has on you is going to snowball dramatically now.

He won't be able to look you in the eye again without thinking of the sounds you've made tonight. That being said, he’ll worry about how to deal with the awkwardness and the shame of spying on his subordinate once he's sober tomorrow morning. For now, he’ll enjoy the rest of his evening watching you.

You don't acknowledge the chat’s questions about who you're thinking of in your intimate throes, instead choosing to finish getting dressed and then grabbing your phone from where it sits at the end of your bed.

“Now I really should reply to my boss,” you tell the chat, leaning across the gap to click something with your mouse. “One second.”

The stream mutes and your fingers move back and forth over the phone keypad quickly. There's silence, and then Reigen's cell vibrates loudly. It scares the shit out of him and he snatches it up, staring at the screen.

Sorry. I was playing online. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow?

Reigen grins and fires back the smartest reply he can think of.

[Reigen] - Don't wear yourself out ;)

On his monitor, he sees you laugh silently, head tipped back and smiling wide, and his heart skips a beat.

Tomorrow it is.

#reigen arataka #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka x reader #reigen smut #MP100 #mp100 reigen #reigen/reader #reigen x reader #reigen arataka/reader #reigen fluff #mp 100 reigen #mob psycho reigen #my fics #reigen x you #reigen arataka x you

[livingemkayde]

ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused.  “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”  But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen. 

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday. 

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house. 

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night. 

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night. 

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation. 

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller. 

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you. 

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in. 

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his. 

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother. 

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer. 

But you didn’t really do — anything. 

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.  

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs. 

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear. 

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe. 

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams. 

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers. 

But never fear — well, not until right now. 

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy. 

_

Some hours earlier. 

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard. 

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables. 

Yesterday: 

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat. 

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party. 

But his words echo in your mind. 

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.” 

You let out a cursed sigh. 

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy. 

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more. 

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets. 

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought. 

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket. 

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you. 

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart. 

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips. 

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. 

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh. 

“Perfection takes time.” 

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight. 

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder. 

He’s looking back at you too. 

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around. 

_

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you. 

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd. 

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with. 

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now. 

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle. 

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier. 

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup. 

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station. 

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink. 

“So,” she says, giving you a wink. 

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way. 

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance. 

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue. 

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue. 

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.” 

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah. 

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters. 

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.” 

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow. 

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind. 

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies. 

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion. 

“W-what? I—” 

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it. 

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back. 

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning. 

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.” 

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel. 

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.  

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you. 

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.” 

_

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit. 

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now. 

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge. 

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question. 

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough. 

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck. 

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear. 

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces. 

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone. 

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear. 

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts. 

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party? 

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else. 

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan. 

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow. 

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy. 

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.” 

Tommy—harmless. 

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried. 

It’s Tommy. It’s fine. 

Right? 

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled. 

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess. 

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—” 

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday. 

He looks down. 

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile. 

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand. 

“Thanks.” 

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence. 

“Joel helped you?” 

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front. 

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended. 

“I wanted to go on my own.” 

Tommy doesn't look convinced. 

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen. 

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction. 

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet. 

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.” 

Shit. 

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse. 

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside. 

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?” 

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil. 

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last. 

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it. 

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind. 

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.” 

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—” 

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know. 

“‘S okay,” He says. 

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope. 

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—” 

“What is that?” 

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless. 

“What? I don’t—” 

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline. 

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?” 

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead. 

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too. 

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip. 

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises. 

“What the hell is that?” 

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down. 

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture. 

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you. 

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond. 

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable. 

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud. 

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. 

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” 

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen. 

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything. 

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance. 

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help. 

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence. 

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better. 

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.  

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head. 

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it. 

“He didn’t,” you reply. 

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction. 

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—” 

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you. 

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do. 

Joel moves to speak but you do it first. 

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.” 

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel. 

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him. 

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking. 

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?” 

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when. 

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you. 

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again. 

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual. 

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?” 

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?” 

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air. 

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face. 

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think. 

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has. 

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite. 

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist. 

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him. 

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again. 

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car. 

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her. 

_

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window. 

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all. 

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door. 

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl. 

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.  

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges. 

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping. 

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle. 

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart. 

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there. 

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises. 

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there. 

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.” 

You shake your head. 

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle. 

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape. 

“That I liked it.” 

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes. 

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—” 

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs. 

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head. 

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you. 

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on. 

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off. 

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath. 

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly. 

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips. 

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you. 

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling. 

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp. 

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move. 

It’s kind of like a game. 

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses. 

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder. 

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred. 

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better. 

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands. 

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do. 

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you. 

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding. 

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.” 

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster. 

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right. 

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again. 

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does. 

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere. 

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you. 

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away. 

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him. 

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh. 

_

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. kisses!

@going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @violinchick @rhoorl

@yoongjennie88 @untamedheart81 @noisynightmarepoetry @joelsversion @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos

@siimiasoi @fandomscollide @lizzie-cakes @paleidiot @sunnywithachanceofjavi @koshkaj-blog @sunnysaphira @bbyanarchist @casa-boiardi @anavatazes @joeldjarin @l0vem3n @lmariephoto37 @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @withasideofmeg @dinwifey @brinabees @sofiparallel @akah565 @defnotashifter @missgurrl @anoverwhelmingdin @rainbowcosmicchaos @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @hellaradd @josephine1837 @lawh0re @medic332 @lisaneedsbraces @angelmather1 @kirsteng42 @poodlebae @lunxramour

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dom!joel #dom!joel miller #tommy miller #chaser

[cerise-on-top]

Taking Care of a Drunk Valeria and Laswell

Somehow, Tumblr botched this upon me having posted it, so I'm posting it again. I'm genuinely sorry about this, I really don't know why it happened!

Valeria: Valeria isn’t exactly a lightweight, but she certainly can’t outdrink everyone either, meaning it’s not too hard to find her drunk when she’s out with you. While she can normally drink quite a bit, if it’s good and expensive wine she’s drinking, she’s a goner fairly quickly. Despite normally already having quite the temperament, she gets fairly aggressive when drunk, picking fights with just about anyone who looks at her the wrong way. Most people don’t expect someone so pretty and cute to get this mad when drunk, much less expecting them to be able to suplex them into the ground as well. It becomes evident quickly enough that she’s had enough, with someone, pretty much always you, needing to drag her away from the bar and the booze lest she actually just kills someone. It wouldn’t be her first time, but you were hoping last time won’t be repeated like that. And thus, you put your hand on her shoulder, telling her that it’s finally time to go home.

“Don’t fucking touch me, pendejo, I’m married!”

“I know, I am your wife!”

Upon hearing that, she’d be quiet for a moment, and that’s about the best chance you have to drag her away. It’s sweet that she’s that loyal to you, especially when she’s as drunk as she is, but she really needed to stop. Putting her in the car, you drove as you had had much less alcohol than she did, but Valeria, having “regained” her composure, wouldn’t shut up, questioning you about things only her wife would know. Naturally, you knew the answers to all of her questions. Why wouldn’t you know about her love for the stuffie you gave her all those years ago? Again, she’s stunned a bit, but won’t shut up either, starting to flirt with you instead. If you can speak Spanish, congratulations, you’ll hear the worst pickup lines in existence that aren’t standard. Most of them won’t even make sense since she comes up with them herself and she isn’t exactly the most creative person. If you don’t speak Spanish and tell her such, she’ll try to speak English with you, but fails horribly and either speaks Spanglish, or simply reverts back to her native tongue. Her accent, too, becomes very thick when she’s drunk.

Once you’re out of the car and back home she’ll be more inclined to touch you. Putting her arms over your shoulders, trapping you between her and the wall while stumbling over both her feet and her words, looking for the worst excuses to simply touch your hand. If you wear your ring, then you can be certain she’ll be looking for and at it. Still can’t believe she’s your wife.

If you wanna take care of her, now’s your chance. You can put her head in your lap without her protesting, but she will have to leave fairly often for the bathroom, so the joy isn’t very long lived. But she will always come back to you and demand you run your fingers through her hair. Actually thinks she’s 0.5% weaker than she actually is while drunk, giving her enough of an opportunity to want to be spoiled rotten by you. Give her the princess treatment and she’ll return it tenfold. And yes, she will remember, she’s never forgotten anything just because she was drunk at the time. Draw her a bath and help with washing her. If you gently rub in the shampoo she’ll go very quiet, simply wanting to enjoy your presence. While she does want to tease you still, it’s not nearly as mean and venomous as it usually is. Her words are slurred, so there’s a chance you can’t understand everything anyway. I know they say “in vino veritas”, but I think she also gets a bit more cuddly. Not particularly emotional still, just slightly more mad than she usually is, but definitely more cuddly. Yes, she hates PDA, yes, she wants to hold you close so you won’t run away from her anymore.

While she will lay down for a few hours, she won’t be able to sleep all that well after drinking a lot of alcohol, so if you’re down for an all nighter, she’ll appreciate it once she’s sobered up enough after those few hours. Doesn’t need to be taken care of in the sense that you need to hold her hair back while she throws up, she rarely ever does after an intense night, but if you make her some toast she’ll definitely show her appreciation. Get her some aspirin while you’re at it too. Valeria might not be the most traditionally affectionate person normally, but she’d fight tooth and nail for you if you ever got drunk like she did.

Laswell: Laswell isn’t a lightweight in the slightest, she can hold her liquor quite well due to larger alcohol consumption when she was a lot younger. While she still wouldn’t be able to outdrink someone like Nikolai, it takes quite a bit to get her drunk. She’s a classy woman as well, but she does like stronger things such as tequila or some cocktails. Not one for too much vodka, but not above drinking the good and expensive kind upon being offered. As mentioned, she can take quite a lot, but she only really drinks the strong stuff, so it doesn’t take too long for her to properly get drunk either if she’s had a few too many drinks. Most of the time you couldn’t even tell she was drunk in the first place since she acts just about the same. Aside from her breath, it’s hard for just about anyone to tell she’s drunk, so if she ever wears a mask, no one would know she even drank anything in the first place. Yes, her judgment is just a bit clouded, but she can still make some good decisions. However, she loosens up a bit more while drunk. It’s not too often she tells jokes while sober, but you’ll hear one pretty much every other hour when she’s not. Laughs at them a bit too, she thinks she’s a comedic genius. Her jokes are just what you’d expect from someone of her age. They don’t always make sense, but she likes them. A guy walks around the corner and the bus is gone. The bus drives around the corner and the guy is gone. Both round the corner and the corner is gone. It’s a real knee slapper to her and she’ll laugh every time. Don’t ask me what it means, though, I couldn’t tell you.

While usually not a very touchy person either, she’ll keep her hands on you just the tiniest bit more. A hand on your thigh, a hand on your shoulder, a hand on your arm. She’s not touch starved, but getting to feel you, getting the reassurance that you’re there, it’s a good feeling to her. Unlike Valeria, Laswell is usually the first one to suggest you leave when she’s had a few drinks, but when she’s with Price and Nikolai and having a very good time, she might forget about her drunken state and needs to be reminded of how she’s going to get home. And thus you tug at her arm.

“I am a happily married woman, stop trying to get my attention.”

“Kate, my love, I’m your wife, please let’s just go home.”

It’s the first time something like this has ever happened, but you couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit. She’s so cute when she’s drunk. It takes a bit more convincing to get to her, but eventually she’ll remember you and agree to go home with you, begrudgingly. Saying her goodbyes to Nikolai and Price, she’ll trot alongside you, her hand in yours. I know, she’s not a fan of PDA either, but there’s nothing wrong with holding hands while it’s pitch black outside. Most of your time driving back home is spent just chatting over this and that. How nice it was to see her old friends again, how she hoped you and them would get along as well, that sort of stuff. As well as thanking you for taking one for the team and driving home.

Once home, the first thing she always does is ask you for a glass of water. She’s thirsty, alcohol doesn’t hydrate as much as it dehydrates. But other than that she’s really just content playing UNO or Sorry! with you. Despite her being very drunk, she can keep her cool, she’s just very low maintenance in that regard. In fact, you could leave her as she is and she’ll be just fine. However, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want your company. When it’s very late and you’re both still up, Kate opens up a lot more about herself than she usually does, regardless of whether you’re having an impromptu therapy session among yourselves or you're wiping the dishes. Those are things she genuinely doesn’t tell anyone aside from the people closest to her, the things that, from time to time, do weigh on her. She knows she can’t particularly tell you everything she does at work, but nothing prevents her from telling you personal anecdotes she thought she’d take with her to her grave. You don’t need to always respond to her, simply listening is more than enough. Usually, she remembers your late night deep talks, but sometimes she does forget about a topic or two you talked about. But she’ll always remember you giving her the time of your day to listen to her. And for that she’s truly grateful.

#cod #cod x reader #fem!reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #no tag-rambling this time since I'm so incredibly tired #sorry! #and sorry for posting this again! #i hope you'll see it still! thank you for the lovely request though!

[floydstruly]

how you mince my heart.

synopsis : two house wardens vie for your affection send their people after you when you escape their grasp, first one that captures you wins.

cw. not proof read, mild depictions of violence, non explicit obsession (?), yandere themes (???) idk how to tag its my first time posting on tumblr (did this for funsies, no idea how anything works)

pairing: gn! reader x vil schoenheit, slightly azul (floyd, jade and rook too if you really squint)

He takes a deep, sharp breath in–his chest rising and falling quietly as he drums his fingers along the edge of the wooden chess board. He waits, and waits, and waits for Vil to make a move. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Vil stares at him through his uncharacteristically uneven bangs, his hairs out of place and his make up a mess, yet still, he manages to be beautiful. The soft dark circles under his eyes reminisce a night of challenged sleep.

Vil sighs, turning his head away from his opponent and mindlessly pushes a rook forward three spaces onto a board–consuming his knight. It takes Azul by surprise to see him so distracted–well, of course he was, he hasn’t been the same since you left him. Azul lets out a snide, mocking chuckle and sits back in his seat, it creaks from the shift of weight.

“You seem stressed.” He remarks offhandedly as he takes his knight off the board, he’s down to one. He glances around the room, it’s oddly quiet in the Monstro Lounge without Floyd and Jade, he only hopes that they are capable of carrying out his wishes.

Vil shakes his head. The door to the VIP room swings open with a harsh thud, Floyd saunters into the room and drapes himself over Azul’s shoulders. He whispers something in his ear that causes Azul to tense up, odd. Azul’s opposition raises an eyebrow and uncrosses his legs–as if trying to listen into their not-so private conversation.

“Ahh~ betta, what’re you doing here?” Floyd drawls out lazily and smiles, how incredibly eerie–Vil pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, glancing back between the knight he eliminated earlier and back at the merman.

“Playing a game.” He answers simply, urging Azul to make his next move with the snap of his wrist, “I would hope I win.” He adds, there's a hint of growing pride in his voice.

He will not lose.

It’s cold.

The sun is setting and you are tired beyond belief, your lungs feel as if they are being burned, your clothes were ragged and torn from all the times you had to push past brushes and trees. Along with that, you were bleeding–lower and lower, your blood trickled down your body in a way that made you feel almost queasy.

You haven’t the slightest clue where you are headed–but when you look back and see Night Raven College getting smaller and smaller, you know you should not stop. Not until you are far enough to escape the prying eyes and the caging arms of the student body entirely.

You feel a false sense of hope when you see the tippy-tops of Royal Sword Academy, like a radiant beacon–the sun, even, you are so, so close to freedom.

But you trip over a branch, crack! You land face first into the wet, muddy ground, the sticks press into your bruises and cuts–if Vil were here, he would certainly scold you for all the wounds that you’ve accumulated. But he isn’t, not if you can help it at least.

You hear a rustling and immediately, your heart sinks. Surely, no one would have followed you up here, would they? No, no, at least–that’s what you think until, from the very corner of your eyes, you see a feather rushing past you in the trees. It bobs up and down, the colour is all too familiar to you.

You scramble to get up in a panicked manner. Behind you, another one–another student, a quick glance back and you could tell from the mismatched eyes that fell slightly behind the hunter hiding among the trees.

“Stop following me!” You were almost positive they heard you, but there was no response. You huff and squeeze your eyes shut, blindly running forward as fast your worn out shoes could take you–which was not very far.

An arrow broke through the tense air, it was careful, calculated–Rook never missed, that was for sure. The tip of the arrow caught the fabric of your torn uniform, the blade too close to your neck for comfort, you fell over; exhausted, defeated.

With one final effort, you mustered all the strength you could to pull the arrow out–but then another barrage came, all precisely landing dangerously close to–but never directly into your flesh. You felt the air get knocked out of your lungs when another weight pressed down onto your body–Rook held your arm above your head with a triumphant smile. You breathed in once more, oh, how it hurt you to do so.

“Ah, I’ve bested you, Monsieur Mastermind!” Rook’s grin is joyous–too joyous for someone who hunted you down as if you were just a rabbit to him.

“So it seems.” The two share a laugh when Jade finally catches up to the pair of you. Unsettling, you shiver and let your body give in to your fatigue, “care for a rematch?”

Rook shakes his head, one by one plucking out the arrows he rained down upon you and hoisting you over his shoulder, you try to kick and scream–but is silenced when his hold on you gets tighter, the pressure almost feeling as if your bones would break as well.

“Oh, I’d be delighted–perhaps to a different prey to chase. This one, Roi du Poison, will not allow me to let go of.”

“A shame.” Jade’s voice trails off, their faces start to blur together, you’re too tired to listen anymore.

He glances over at the previously swung open door and as if on cue, Jade walks through it, the soles of his shoes tapping on the neat floor of the Monstro Lounge with a hollow click, a solemn expression plastered on his face. He takes a bow, hand to his chest.

Vil’s gaze wanders to his phone, it glows dimly at a text notification from Rook, a photo of you passed out over his shoulder, walking back to Night Raven College. Vil smooths out his hair and clothes.

“Checkmate.”

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #yandere vil schoenheit

[seungkwansphd]

room for interpretation - 1

pairing: lawyer!jeonghan x lawyer!YN word count: 8.5K synopsis: as top of class, you and jeonghan had been many things to each other. enthusiastic rivals, begrudging allies, and…parties to a jokingly written (but legally binding) marriage contingency contract? this piece of paper would’ve been long forgotten had an unexpected merger not thrown you back into each others’ lives. themes: fluff, rivals to coworkers to tentative friends to lovers, “if we’re both single by X age” marriage contract, IDIOTS2lovers, fake dating, miscommunication. this is just a romcom.

a/n: i have been working on this for SO LONG. it truly got out of hand. thanks to @wavelikewhat and @the-boy-meets-evil for the encouragement along the way & beta-ing! ALSO RIP, i know y'all wanted it to be posted a oneshot, but this has more paragraphs than tumblr allows so 🤷

“My ducklings!” Peter half wailed as he slumped forward with his near empty beer glass. “Oh my ducklings,” he moaned pitifully. “I must warn you now that if you continue down this path, you will be single forever. Law is a lonely profession, full of long hours and no time for work-life balance.”

You did your best to hold in a laugh. Peter was an alumnus of your law school and currently going through a divorce. You’d met him through a student-alumni networking event and he’d become an unofficial mentor to a few of you that were part of the university’s law review. Despite what one might guess from his current display of hysterics, he was quite a competent lawyer and was on track to be partner. Unfortunately, this was also the major leading factor in the current dissolution of his marriage.

“Jeonghan! YN!” Peter grabbed your hands suddenly, “Look at you beautiful people. Are you truly resigned to a life of loneliness? You both have strong potential to make partner before thirty five, but are you willing to give up your happiness to do so?”

“I-,” Jeonghan laughed, surprised at the sudden proximity.

Jeonghan thought for a moment. While it was certainly back of mind right now, he did envision himself with a family in the future. But he could think about that after he made partner.

“I don’t plan to compromise on anything,” you laughed, glancing at Jeonghan as Peter went to go refill his beer.

“Oh no?” He raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Certainly not,” you shook your head vehemently. “I’m a catch. I’ll be married before I’m thirty and make partner before thirty-five. I will have it all.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. You had been like this for as long as he’d known you. Confident, smart, and stubborn. You were a huge pain in the ass, but that was also why he respected you. There simply wasn’t anyone else in your class that could give him a run for his money in the way that you did. As a result, you were his frequent sparring partner, even if you wouldn’t consider yourselves friends.

“Good luck with that,” he scoffed, bringing his glass to his lips. “Peter has a point. The hours and demands of an associate trying to make partner are crazy. It would be stupid to try and date through all that.”

“It’s not my fault that no one’s interested in you,” you scoffed.

This wasn’t true at all. While quite the thorn in your side, Jeonghan was also incredibly smart, infuriatingly tenacious, and not difficult to look at by any means. He probably could successfully date while making partner if he wanted to.

Jeonghan’s eyes flicked over you, giving you a withering look.

“We both know that's not true.”

“Not sure why you're so concerned about bagging someone before thirty then,” you goaded him, taking a sassy sip from your glass.

“I prefer to be realistic.”

“It is realistic…for me.”

Jeonghan was standing over you now, eyes narrowed slightly at you in something akin to annoyance. This always happened when you two took up arms.

“Let's make it interesting,” Jeonghan suggested.

You furrowed your brows. This was not a good sign.

“If neither of us is married by the time we're thirty, we'll be each others’ contingency plans.”

“What?” you coughed.

“I mean, it shouldn't be a concern for you, since you’re more than sure you’ll be married by then. And you seem awfully worried about whether I'll be married by thirty, so this should put your mind at ease.”

Your eyes swiveled around in your head, trying to understand exactly how he had managed to twist the conversation into this?

“I’ve returned with more alcohol,” Peter announced as he set three more beers on the table.

You shifted away from Jeonghan and faced the beverages with a grimace. You weren't even halfway done with your first beer.

…

“What's happening?” you looked up at Jeonghan with confusion.

You’d been studying tax law in the library when a hand had slapped a sheet of paper over your text. Jeonghan had a triumphant look on his face, almost as if he’d bested you in an argument.

“Contract.”

As if that explained anything.

“For?” you asked, rifling through your brain to see if there was some contract related assignment that you had forgotten about.

“Our marriage contingency contract.”

“Oh, god, you weren’t serious?” you made a face at him. 

“Legally binding. Feel free to review.”

“I-,” your curiosity took over as you grabbed the document, scanning it over.

Jeonghan wasn’t top of class for no reason. He had really written this in language that was clear. There was little to no room for interpretation. If you signed this, you would be marrying Yoon Jeonghan if you were still single at thirty.

“Good work,” you gave the contract a gentle pat as you slid it back towards him. “It’s good to practice our writing skills.”

“Aren’t you going to sign?” he asked, eyes glancing at your pen pointedly.

“Are you serious?” you asked, slightly exasperated at his persistence now. “What is the point of this?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms. He’d never taken you for a coward.

“I guess you aren’t that confident that you’ll be married before thirty.”

Your hackles raised. It was funny because you were often commended for sidestepping goading in practice courtroom settings. In fact you prided yourself on it, but this time when Jeonghan laid out the bait, you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

…

“Do you know what this is about?” you whispered to Maja as you took the seat next to them in the conference room.

The managing partner of your firm had called for a company wide meeting relatively last minute and everyone was on edge. Occasionally, the paralegals had intel from the executive assistants, but not this time.

“I don't know,” Maja shrugged at you.

“Drinks afterwards? Whether it's good or bad news, there'll be something to discuss,” you suggested.

“I'm in,” she laughed and nodded.

You and Maja had worked together since you'd joined the firm. At this point, it had been a little over four years and you were close friends. Whatever the type of case, you two worked hand in hand to execute.

“Good morning everyone!” Peter Chae, managing partner of Chae & Associates, clapped his hands together after walking into the room. He took his position at the podium as the room quieted. “I’m sure you’re all burning with curiosity, so I’ll just cut to the chase. Chae & A is merging with Zanden Law Firm. We’ve acquired the other wing on this floor, so over the next month you’ll see our new associates move in. We’ll do our best to minimize office moves, but some will be necessary in order to group teams appropriately.”

“Merger?” your head swum slightly at the news.

“Yes, Maja, you have a question?”

“Suggestion, more like,” you glanced over as she lowered her hand. “What do we think of ‘Chae to Z - Covering All Your Law Needs’ as a new slogan? Or wait! ‘We’ve got you covered from Chae to Z’!”

You snorted. That wasn’t half bad. Others on the team seemed to agree.

“I-,” Peter blinked. He hadn’t been prepared for that.

“We can workshop it,” Maja laughed easily with a few of the other paralegals, gesturing for him to continue.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed at Maja’s casual dismissal before he cleared his throat and moved on. You half-listened as he went through general logistics, but mostly you were wondering how the influx of new associates and partners would impact the office dynamic. Specifically your pathway to partner.

You knew you had been on track to make partner within two years at Chae & A. Frankly, you were the top associate on the team and it was a no brainer, but you had no idea what the talent looked like at Zanden Law Firm and how decisions would be made between their managing partner and Peter. The abundance of unknowns in this new situation was unsettling.

Once the meeting adjourned, you practically sprinted back to your computer. First order of business was pulling up the ZLF website to scope out their team.

“What the hell are you running for?” Maja demanded once she arrived at your desk.

“Research,” you answered shortly as you navigated. You prayed on everything you loved that they had an ‘Our Team’ page that you could peruse. “Aha!”

“Ahh,” Maja nodded with understanding as she settled in behind you.

Thoughts rattled rapidly around your brain as you scrolled. The names and faces did not jump out as particularly notable until you got to the Ys.

“Shit.”

“What?” she asked, alarmed.

“Of course he fuckin’ works there!” you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair slightly.

“Who?” Maja demanded, wanting to shake you. You weren’t answering any of her questions to satisfaction.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you hovered your cursor over his smug face.

“Oh! Isn’t that your alma mater?” Maja leaned forward, scanning his bio.

“Yes,” you answered begrudgingly. “We were classmates.”

“Oh!” Maja’s eyes widened. “Is he good?”

“Yes,” your lip curled up in distaste. “God he was so annoying! Like we could get along, but I know he wants to make partner like I do and he’s good enough to take it from me.”

“Hmm,” Maja eyed you curiously. “Well, you just have to outdo him. If you want to be the best, you have to keep getting better.”

“You’re not fun when you’re giving real advice,” you scrunched your nose at her, but she was right. You were an ace and you could certainly still handle Jeonghan.

“Now let’s do some real work. The Yellech-Han divorce case is not going to settle itself.”

You sighed, pulling up that case file. After this one, you were going to tell Peter that you never wanted to handle a divorce case again. The level of pettiness was enough to drive you insane. Had you not been happily dating Flynn, you would’ve sworn yourself off dating as a preventative measure.

…

Jeonghan sat at his computer, brow furrowed at the screen. Unlike his firm, the Chae & A website did not share headshots and bios of their associates. Exhaling sharply, he tapped his pen to his notepad. Something about the name of the firm struck him as so familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Granted, he interacted with lawyers all over the city on a regular basis, but Chae & A seemed like a name that he’d heard more than just in passing.

“Jeonghan, we have that deposition in an hour. Ready?” Joshua’s head popped into the doorway.

“Yes,” Jeonghan nodded. “You don’t seem too concerned about the merger,” he remarked.

“I’m not,” Joshua shrugged easily. “Unlike you, I’m not brimming with ambition to make partner before thirty five. I’m happy being an associate for a while yet.”

“You could if you wanted to.”

“I know,” Joshua’s eyes creased with a smile. “But I enjoy having a life outside of work and a partner that I actually get to spend time with.”

“I’ll have time for a personal life after I make partner,” Jeonghan insisted.

“I’m very aware that this is your plan,” Joshua rolled his eyes. “Anyways, I am excited for the merger. I’ve heard that the building Chae & A is in is very nice and it’s closer to my place, so it's a shorter commute.”

Jeonghan laughed. He finished scribbling a few more notes before getting ready for deposition.

…

Maja’s watchful eyes surveyed the new associates from Zanden as they moved in. Neither of you had been directly impacted by the move, but the office next to yours was now awaiting its new occupant. You were curious about them, of course, but you also had work to do, so you saved the wondering for later.

Later that day Jeonghan greeted the receptionist at Chae & A and received brief instructions to his new office. It was basically a straight shot to the corner. A moving crew had already moved the furniture and files, so it was just up to him to unpack and arrange his things.

“We did it!” you wiggled excitedly as you walked with Maja back into the office.

After a painful few months of negotiating, re-negotiating, and then re-re-negotiating, the Yellech-Han divorce case had finally settled. You and Maja had gotten boba on the way back to the office to celebrate.

“God, that case made me want to be single forever. And I think Flynn and I have a relatively healthy relationship!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes theatrically.

“They were insufferable, weren’t they?” Maja laughed until she noticed the new figure in the office. “Oh shit, I think they’re here! Your new neighbor!” she pointed.

“Oh! We should greet them,” you decided, leading the way. “Hello, welcome to the office!” you knocked on the doorframe as you spoke. “I hope we can be-,”

“Friends?” Jeonghan’s lips curled up into a smile before he turned to face you. “That was never our style, was it?”

“Jeonghan,” your face fell.

“YN,” he nodded at you before turning back around to place books on the shelves.

Maja eyed you curiously as you stuck your tongue out at his turned back before returning to your office. The last time you’d seen Jeonghan had been the alumni mock trial event that your alma mater hosted annually. You’d both participated as students throughout law school, so it had been a fun change to take on mentor roles. Due to COVID, you’d only been able to participate once and that had been over three years ago! Seeing Jeonghan again felt a little like being electrocuted.

Harris Zanden moved throughout the office, making a point to greet the associates and staff from Chae & A. There was bound to be anxiety on both sides about the merger and he wanted to do as much as he could to alleviate it. He slowly made his way towards Maja’s corner desk.

“Hello, I’m Harris. Just wanted to say hi,” he smiled affably.

“Oh hell-,” Maja’s greeting caught in her throat when she saw his face. Shit. “Hello. I’m Maja Sanderson.”

“Hi Maja,” Harris’s expression pinched and he coughed. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Shit. Shit shit shit!” Maja muttered to herself once he was out of earshot. She shuffled hurriedly into your office and shut the door behind her. “YN. Crisis!”

“What’s happening?” you stood up, alarmed.

“I-, um, god,” Maja brought her hands to her face. She inhaled deeply a few times, gathering herself. “The managing partner of Zanden?”

“Yeah, Harris? He just came and did intros. Did he talk to you?”

“Yes.” Maja’s expression was grim. “That’s not the first time I’ve met him.”

Your mouth hung ajar and your expression demanded more exposition.

“We-, I,” she floundered. “I had sex with that man…recently.”

“Oh my god!” you cried, deeply thankful that the offices had some soundproofing. “MAJA OH MY GOD!” you whisper-yelled when her words really sank in.

“I know!” she moaned into her hands.

“I don't…which one?” you filed through your mental rolodex of her escapades. “The most recent one? Handsome rich guy from the bar?”

Maja hung her head in shame. You screamed.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Jeonghan wondered to himself, watching you and Maja through the panes of glass.

From where he stood, it looked like you were reprimanding her sternly. It surprised him, if he was being honest. It didn’t fit with his memory of you, but that memory was also several years old. A bemused smile crossed his lips as he wondered about you now.

“What are you going to do?” you pressed your palm to your forehead, truly affected by the news that Maja had just dropped on you.

“We have to undo the merger!”

“Girl,” you snorted.

“I’m gonna pretend like nothing happened. And so are you!” she pointed a finger menacingly at you.

“How can I pretend that nothing happened?”

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed. He did not like the way your paralegal was pointing at you. He watched in surprise as you covered your face with your hands. This was behavior unbecoming of an aspiring partner. Later that day, after Maja had left, he approached you in your office. It was no surprise to him that you were still there.

“You’ll never make partner if you can’t command the respect of your subordinates.” he offered without explanation.

“What?” you squinted at him in confusion.

“I saw you arguing with your paralegal earlier. You shouldn’t let people talk to you like that,” he sank into the chair.

“Wha-, oh!” the dots suddenly connected. “Oh that. No…that wasn’t work related,” you shook your head furiously.

Jeonghan was intrigued. Whatever the conversation had been about seemed to fluster you just by thinking about it.

“I see. Well that’s good to hear. I would hate to learn that you’ve lost your edge over the years,” he smirked at you.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing for you? Assuming you haven’t lost your ambition to make partner,” you jabbed right back.

He chuckled, eyes flitting to the diploma hanging on your wall. He smiled. His matching one was up on his wall now too.

“I sincerely hope you’re still as skilled as you were when we were in school. Things were always more interesting for me when you were around,” he stood from his chair, saluting you before he left.

Your eyes burned holes into the back of his jacket as he walked away. You were so focused on glaring at him that you jumped when your phone rang. It was Flynn.

“Hey babe!” you smiled when you picked up the phone. “Oh, you’re where? Yeah, I can meet you there in probably twenty. Ok great, see you soon!”

You wrapped things up quickly and packed your bag. Jeonghan’s eyes followed you all the way to the elevator.

…

“Hello, hello!” Peter tapped a fork against his glass, commanding everyone’s attention. “Hello and thanks everyone for attending our first Chae & Zander Law Associates happy hour!”

“Woohoo!” you clapped around your stemware as well as you could manage.

“Harris and I wanted to both show our appreciation for your support and patience as we’ve worked through details of the merger, so the tab’s on us tonight!”

Harris lifted his glass in a show of agreement.

“Have we worked out details of the new slogan?” a voice called out cheekily from the crowd.

“New slogan?” Harris’s brow furrowed with confusion.

“Slogan?” Peter looked equally confused before the memory struck him. “Oh, yes! Maja! Did you share your idea with Harris? It was funny.”

Maja’s eyes widened with panic and you held in a scream as Harris’s eyes moved to her.

“Oh no, it’s not…it wasn’t real,” she tried to wave it off, but all the attention brought a flush to her cheeks.

“No please,” Peter insisted.

“We’ve got you covered from Chae to Z,” Maja answered awkwardly. Harris let out a soft puff of laughter.

You turned away with secondhand embarrassment and were surprised to find your face nearly planted into someone’s arm. You jumped when you realized it was Jeonghan.

“Oops,” you laughed, stepping back from your now associate.

“You are acting so strange. Will you tell me what is happening?”

“I can’t,” you shook your head, “Believe me, I desperately want to tell someone about it. But it can’t be you.”

“Why?” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“It just can’t! And I can’t tell you why, but trust me I am bursting at the seams about it!” you whispered sharply at him.

“Hm. Well let’s talk about something else, then,” he suggested and you were grateful he hadn’t pushed anymore. “Did you get the email about the Alumni-Student Mock Trial? Looks like they’re putting it on again.”

“I did,” you nodded, “Are you going to participate?”

“I think so. I enjoyed it last time. You?”

“It was really fun,” you found yourself smiling fondly at the memory. “I’ll look forward to being your opposing counsel again,” you teased.

“I look forward to beating you again,” he laughed.

“You know our side of the case was far more difficult to argue than yours!” you protested emphatically. It really had been. So much of the evidence had been deemed inadmissible, which had really swept the legs out from under your prosecutorial arguments.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” he chuckled. He agreed with you, of course, but he hadn’t kicked the habit of teasing you even after all these years.

“So what’s new with you these days?” you found yourself asking. “Do you have any fun interests or are you still all work and no play?”

“Actually,” Jeonghan took a sip of his beer, “I picked up snowboarding a few years back. Eating out, if that can be considered an interest. It’s more self preservation as I still have no interest in eating my own cooking,” he chuckled.

“I mean if you’re eating interesting foods, I suppose,” you contemplated briefly. “Snowboarding, huh? I can’t say I’ve tried. I prefer my bones intact, I suppose.”

“Maybe you’re the boring one now,” Jeonghan quipped.

You opened your mouth to reply, but were interrupted by Peter and Harris’ approach.

“Jeonghan, long, long time no see,” Peter greeted Jeonghan enthusiastically.

“It’s great to see you again, Peter.”

“Hi Harris,” you greeted your new managing partner with a firm handshake.

“Hi YN,” he smiled down at you, “It’s great to see you two getting along. You’re both top performers, we have high expectations for you.”

“Of course,” you smiled, leaning towards Jeonghan slightly. ‘Getting along’ was maybe a reach for you two, but Harris didn’t need to know that. You were still in the ‘building first impressions’ phase and if friendliness with Jeonghan was a plus, you could let him believe that.

“Harris, I’m not sure if you know this, but YN and Jeonghan were actually classmates. At my alma mater, in fact!”

“Aha! Okay so now I see that this merger was actually just a poaching activity,” Harris joked good naturedly.

“No comment,” Peter held his hands up in mock surrender. “You should see these two go up against each other. When I say gloves off, I mean gloves off.”

“YN’s been a royal pain in my ass more than a few times,” Jeonghan chuckled.

Harris’ eyebrows rose with interest. He had served as Jeonghan’s senior counsel enough to know that this was a high compliment. He was eager to see you work.

Maja’s eyes widened as she eavesdropped on this conversation. She had initially only been interested in ensuring that you didn’t act too weird around Harris, but she’d caught more conversation than she’d intended. On the surface it may have sounded like Jeonghan was insulting you, but she was quite certain that it was a compliment. Given Jeonghan’s position in Harris’ eyes as a top performer, this somehow conferred a level of competency to you. Associates usually leveraged time with managing partners to make digs at one another, not compliments!

“Maja,” you waved at her after the conversation dissolved.

“How goes the schmoozing?” she wrinkled her nose at you.

“Good, I think?” your eyes flickered to Harris again. “Though if you would accept my suggestion of blackmailing him into making me partner, things would go a lot quicker.”

“What the fuck about ‘nothing happened’ do you not understand?” Maja hissed at you, “For someone who graduated from a top law school, that brain doesn’t seem to work so good!”

“Relax, no one is even around,” you rolled your eyes at her. This was true.

“Are you staying all night?” she asked, watching Jeonghan out of the corner of her eye.

“No, I think I talked to everyone who is of interest to me,” you shook your head. “What do you think?”

“I think we’ve stayed the obligatory amount of time,” Maja chuckled. “Let’s go!”

You nodded and went to grab your things. You said a few brief goodbyes before looping your arm in hers and heading to the subway.

“Tell me more about Jeonghan,” Maja asked after you’d snagged some seats.

“Hmm, what do you want to know?” you furrowed your brow. “We weren’t super close.”

“But three years together, you must know some things.”

“He’s very annoying,” was the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t know that conniving is the right word to describe him…maybe clever? He was definitely one of the smartest students in class. We did law review together and moot court too. He always wanted to be the best and so did I, so we crossed paths often.”

“Sounds like you both worked hard, huh?” Maja hummed.

“Yes,” you nodded. You would never dispute hard work when it came to Jeonghan.

“Interesting. I look forward to getting to know him,” Maja nodded.

“Oh really?” you looked at her with surprise. “Interested like interested?”

“No, you dunce!” she looked like she wanted to thump you on the head. “If you’re both interested in making partner, I’m really curious to see how things go.”

“Yeah,” you huffed a sigh as the subway rounded Maja’s stop. You gave her a wave and reassured her that you knew it was your turn to bring coffee tomorrow.

…

You frowned at the pile of documents sitting on your desk. You felt overwhelmed. It was late, you’d had to cancel plans with Flynn again, and this case you were working on was being adjudicated by a judge that you swear had an agenda against you.

“Why are you still here?” a voice floated into your office.

“I’m in a bad mood,” you warned Jeonghan when he appeared in the doorway.

“Noted,” he nodded, taking a seat anyways. “What’s bugging you?”

You pursed your lips in thought. Perhaps Jeonghan could give you some helpful insight on Judge Bytheway.

“Have you tried cases before Bytheway before?”

“A couple, yeah,” he nodded.

“Is he an asshole to you too? Or just me?” you huffed. This wasn’t as eloquent as you would’ve liked to put it, but it got the point across.

“Oh he’s a sexist, big time,” Jeonghan nodded, his lip curling up in distaste.

“Great,” you rolled your eyes. “Well, fuck me I guess.”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched at your candid annoyance. He watched as you thought furiously, no doubt trying to brainstorm ways to combat the judge’s bias. Bytheway, unfortunately, didn’t seem to be the type to respond to any such strategy.

“What’s your caseload like?” you gave him a look. He could tell it was reluctant.

“Not too terrible, actually,” he shrugged.

This wasn’t totally true, but he was burning with curiosity to see whether you were actually going to ask him for help. You sighed deeply before you spoke again.

“...What do you think about serving as lead on this one?” you finally brought yourself to ask. “In name only!” you clarified vehemently.

Jeonghan’s grin almost made you take it back. You hated asking for help, but you also knew that representing your client by yourself would not be doing them justice.

“I could probably make time for that,” he finally nodded, “You’ll have to ask Harris and Peter though so they know it’s on my plate.”

“Yeah, I will,” you nodded. “You workin’ on anything interesting?”

“Not really,” Jeonghan’s face scrunched up. “A couple of appeals filed and working through the system. Hurry up and wait,” he chuckled.

“You love appeals though,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him sarcastically because you specifically knew he didn’t.

Throughout law school he had participated in moot court, an opportunity for students to practice the appellate court process, but just barely. Everyone knew that Jeonghan was most interested in and best suited for trial, but since you did moot court, he had to too.

“Hey, you don’t know me anymore. I could love appeals now,” Jeonghan laughed, squinting curiously at one of the figurines on your desk. His eyes lit up with curiosity when he realized it was a tiny, Lego Pokemon. “Venusaur?” he asked, picking it up gingerly.

“Mega-venusaur, thank you very much,” you rolled your eyes.

“Good lord, I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan coughed out a laugh. “Dang, you really like these, huh?”

“None of your business! I can spend my money how I like!” you felt oddly defensive as you watched him count your figurines.

To the common eye, it might seem excessive, but who in their right mind could have just Eevee without also getting the evolutions? You didn’t have them all quite yet, because you only bought them to celebrate major life milestones, but you were getting close.

“No, they’re cute,” he laughed. You were still indignant at this, but it was the best he could do.

“What do you spend your adult money on, if not tiny Pokemon?” you found yourself asking. Despite your best efforts, you were a little curious about what Jeonghan was like now. Had time eroded his sharper edges or had it honed them even further?

“Whiskeys. Travel. Books,” he answered.

“Ugh how pretentious!” you rolled your eyes, blowing a raspberry at him. “Rich lawyer loves luxurious things. Boo! Tomato!”

“I-,” he balked at your childish display.

“Update me when you get an interesting hobby,” you laughed, shooing him out of your office impatiently.

Jeonghan laughed and crossed the short distance to his own office. He watched as you jotted down a few notes before leaving to talk to Harris and Peter. It wasn’t too much longer before you shot him a thumbs up on the way back. Your first real case together.

…

“Can I please ask you about Harris?” you blurted out after a few drinks with Maja. The curiosity had truly been killing you this past week and you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“I-,” Maja sighed. She’d initially planned to take this secret to her grave, but recently she’d been wanting to discuss it with someone other than her own reflection in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to him? Or are you guys just pretending nothing happened? Do you want something else to happen? But like you kind of can’t because of the merger, right? But you report to Peter still. I-,” your mouth started rattling off the many, many questions that had been building up in your brain.

“Hold on, I can only answer so many things at once!” Maja held her hands up.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. Your mouth occasionally had a habit of running off like that when you were curious.

“I have not talked to him, so I guess we are kind of pretending that it didn’t happen,” she spoke slowly, contemplating the words thoroughly as she spoke them. “Candidly, I did have a really good time with him. We were…highly compatible. But I mean it was just a few times, it’s barely anything to get worked up about.”

“A few times?!” you almost shouted. “I was not aware of this!”

“I told you!” Maja insisted.

“Did you?!” your brow furrowed, “I don’t recall!”

“You have a notoriously bad memory! As your paralegal, I know this for a fact!”

You frowned. This was true. If you didn’t write things down, you simply wouldn’t remember them. It was the reason you’d taken such profuse notes all throughout school. It was one of the reasons you’d been so jealous of Jeonghan when you first met him.

‘Writing things down is for nerds!’ he’d proclaimed to you more than a few times.

‘That might be true, but only nerds make good lawyers!’ had been your retort. In hindsight this was a lukewarm burn at best.

“Would you talk to Peter about it?” you brought yourself back to the present.

“...I’m not sure,” Maja’s lips pursed. 

“Oh! I can ask! Like just generally ask about his thoughts on a dating policy. We don't really have one now, right?”

“You don’t think that’ll come across weird?” Maja made a face at you.

“I don’t care about seeming weird,” you shrugged.

“I’m not totally for it, but I don’t think I’ll stop you either,” she laughed, which relieved you.

“We shall see where the wind takes me!”

“Hey I’m going to visit Grandma this weekend, do you want to come?” Maja asked, changing the subject.

“Of course, do you even have to ask?”

You absolutely adored Maja’s grandmother. She lived in a little seaside town a couple of hours away and you were always in the mood to visit.

…

“Yiayia!” Maja jumped excitedly as she approached her grandmother.

You smiled through the pain behind her as you unloaded the bags from the car.

“Packed so much for a weekend trip,” you grumbled as you dragged the suitcases towards the house.

You and Maja settled into the guest room before sitting down in the living room for tea and a quick snack. You had picked up a variety of baked goods before departing the city and you’d been thinking about the taro macarons for most of the drive up.

“Oh these look lovely,” Yiayia clapped her hands together, eyes scanning across the pastries.

“What kind of tea should we have?” you asked, opening the cupboard where you knew the teapot should be.

“How about a jasmine green?” Yiayia suggested. Nice and delicate to pair with these pastries.

You nodded, eyes searching the labeled canisters for jasmine. Maja and Yiayia caught up in the living room until you approached with the tea and tumblers on a tray.

“Thanks boo,” Maja smiled up at you.

“What were you two talking about?” you asked curiously.

“I was just asking if Maja had been able to meet the neighbors’ son.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. “Is he cute?”

“I think he’s quite a looker,” Yiayia raised her eyebrows pointedly. Apparently he lives in the city too, but he comes back to visit often because he’s a good boy.

“Did you meet him?” you asked.

“Not yet,” Maja shook her head.

“Don't worry,” Yiayia stuck a finger up in the air excitedly. “I made a tray of cookies for you to bring over once I see his car in the driveway.”

You cackled loudly. What fantastic matchmaking.

“Okay, then what do you need me to do while Maja’s gettin’ it on with potential future loverboy?” you asked.

Maja glared at you while Yiayia clicked her tongue, insisting that she didn’t need your help with anything. You shook your head, stubbornness definitely ran in their family.

…

You thought furiously as you wiped down the bookcase in the guest bedroom. At first you drafted, revised, and rehearsed the passionate case that you could make to Peter about a flexible dating policy for the firm. After that, your mind wandered to the land usage case that you’d just been assigned. You’d probably spend time reviewing case notes after finishing the task at hand.

As you tackled the last shelves and replaced the books, your thoughts turned to your last conversation with Jeonghan. Specifically, the Pokemon figurines. You had many of them, but your Eevee evolutions were most special to you. You had started buying them for yourself after you’d gotten into college. Each one signified an important milestone in your life: admission and graduation from undergrad, admission and completion of law school, being accepted into law review, and getting hired at Chae & Associates. There were eight evolutions in total, so you had two more to go: making partner and getting married.

“Maja?” you poked your head out into the hallway.

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed that the tray of cookies from earlier was gone. Yiayia must have sent her to call on the neighbor boy. Pressing your lips together, you decided to take a walk. You were nosy and simply needed to know just how handsome this man was!

With a nearly empty garbage bag in tow, you walked out of the house, peeking casually (creepily) through the hedges and shrubs, searching for the glimpse of a person. You ended up doing two, zig-zag laps around Yiayia’s house until you heard some conversation.

“I know we need to talk about it, I just…not sure I have anything coherent to say yet.”

You were shocked. That was Maja’s voice, but the words she was saying didn’t particularly make sense.

“I understand that,” came the reply. “Can I ask whether it’s because you still don’t know what you want? Or because you’ve decided and you don’t want to tell me?”

The silence was uncomfortable even for you.

“You said you needed time and I want you to have as much as you need. But at the same time it makes me a little crazy to see you at work all the time and not be able to talk to you.”

Your eyes were wide. That voice sounded painfully familiar so you pulled back a branch or two and almost dropped your bag of garbage when you saw Harris! What in the world? He was Yiayia’s neighbor’s son? You wished that there was someone else here that you could discuss this with. You quietly let the branches bend back in place and finally placed the bag in your hands into the bin outside. Yiayia seemed to still be napping, so you returned to your bedroom and continued reading.

…

You checked your appearance in the mirror again. Today was the first court appearance in front of Bytheway. You’d taken your time getting ready today, hopeful that taking on a hyperfeminine appearance and persona would work to your advantage. You would let Jeonghan take the lead and assist, as Bytheway undoubtedly expected. You flipped off the judge in your mind one more time before heading to your peer’s office.

“Ready?” you knocked on the doorframe as you entered.

“Ye-yeah,” Jeonghan looked up from his phone. He blinked before standing. “Let’s go, I’ll drive.”

“Yes, of course! And we must always walk behind the men, for they are our masters!”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes as you rambled sarcastically. He nodded pleasantly as he drove, listening to you go over the details and approach what you'd laid out for the case. It was solid, he felt confident.

“Ah! Attorney Yoon! It's great to see you,” Judge Bytheway greeted him amiably after entering the courtroom. It did not escape his notice that the judge failed to greet you.

“Your Honor,” he moved to introduce you, but you cut him off. Grabbing his hand behind the bench you shook your head slightly. “It's great to see you again,” he recovered smoothly.

“I told you to take lead, so take lead. That man doesn't want to hear from me so for all intents and purposes I'm your paralegal today.” you whispered out of the corner of your mouth as the judge greeted the opposing counsel.

Jeonghan nodded sharply.

Things proceeded quickly and smoothly. It was an initial hearing, so largely procedural and went according to plan. You scratched down notes every so often and slid them across the table, tapping his leg to get his attention, and he would fold them seamlessly into his arguments.

“I've never seen YN so quiet,” your client, Wade, teased affectionately as you left the courtroom.

“Peaceful, right?” Jeonghan laughed.

You pulled a face at both of them.

“I want you to know I appreciate it,” Wade continued. “I know you're whip smart and could've done that yourself, but that guy’s an asshole. I appreciate your prioritizing my needs as a client.”

Jeonghan snuck a glance at you and was surprised to see you were flustered.

“Ah it's nothing!” you laughed nervously, “That's my job!”

Wade smiled and said goodbye before heading to his car.

“Let me ask you something,” Jeonghan piped up as you walked towards the fleet car.

“Sure.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how physically painful was that for you?”

“Hmm,” you clicked your press-on nails together as you thought. “Seven?”

“Huh. If I’d asked you in school, you probably would've answered 20. How's that for growth?”

“Well if I'd asked you for help like this in school, you would've taken every opportunity to rub it in my face. So we've both grown, perhaps.”

Jeonghan chuckled, putting the car in reverse.

“You want celebratory bubble tea?”

“What? That's only for after cases have closed successfully!”

“Ah my mistake.”

It was just as well. Jeonghan was ready to put some distance between you two, but even later in the day the memory of your nails tapping lightly against his leg to get his attention lingered in his mind.

…

“Hey let me ask you something?” you popped your head into Jeonghan’s office.

“Sure,” he looked up from his computer.

You fully entered the room and closed the door softly behind you. Unusual.

“Did you have a dating policy at Zanden?”

“Dating policy?” You were serving up some strange questions today.

“Yes, like a policy around dating people within the firm?”

“Ah! I don't know,” Jeonghan shook his head and shrugged. “Why?” He wondered if there was someone you were interested in.

“Hm. Is he the type to be a stickler about that kind of stuff?”

“Hm…,” Jeonghan thought for a moment. Honestly he wasn't sure, but didn't think so. Harris was like Peter in a lot of ways. As long as things didn't hinder productivity or professionalism, he likely didn't care. “Probably not?”

“Interesting,” your eyes lit up as you pressed your fingertips into steeple fingers. “Okay, thank you!”

“Sure,” Jeonghan nodded, mind dwelling on the fact that you hadn't answered the question of why.

He flipped through his mental roster of associates and staff and frowned. There wasn't anyone at the firm that he felt really made sense for you.

“Hey Peter?” you knocked on the managing partner’s ajar door.

“Yes, come in!” his voice came through the crack.

“Hey can I ask you something? And don't be weird about it.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at that playfully and gestured for you to continue.

“Have you and Harris discussed a dating policy for the firm post merger?”

“Dating policy? No, I supposed we haven't!”

“Do you have thoughts on it?”

“I probably do,” Peter nodded and then paused for a moment to gather them. “On the one hand, we should have something to protect us from a legal standpoint, but on the other hand I love love, so I wouldn't be in favor of prohibiting internal dating.”

“That makes me very happy to hear,” you nodded excitedly.

“Are you interested in someone?” Peter’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Tell me, tell me!”

“No!” you almost burst out laughing at the idea of dating someone at the firm. There was almost no one suitable.

“Maybe him?” Peter had gotten out of his chair and was peering out of his office through his blinds.

“Don't do that!” you pulled him away from the glass, “You look weird! They're gonna think you're planning layoffs or something!”

“Oh, ah, yea,” he scratched his head sheepishly. He sometimes forgot that the associates from Zanden still didn't know him very well and found his positional authority to be a bit intimidating.

“Thank you for your thoughts!” you beamed at him before leaving. The bounce in your step was obvious as you returned to your office. You couldn't wait to update Maja!

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed as he watched you float back into your office. You seemed damned pleased and he was surprised that it bothered him so. He had gone through the company directory and confirmed his initial thought that no one seemed fit to task. You were too much of a handful! Smart and competent with a goofy side, empathetic yet ruthless when necessary. Godspeed to whoever it was that you were interested in.

…

“Damn it, I'm running late,” you cursed when Jeonghan entered your office, ready to appear before Judge Bytheway again.

“We need to go now. What do I need to do to make that happen?”

“My bag. I'll get the rest.”

Jeonghan nodded, grabbing your leather crossbody bag. He looked on as you grabbed a small satchel and followed him out the door.

He looked over occasionally with intrigue as you fixed your makeup in the car. You placed highlight and blush strategically and when you were done, you looked somehow…brighter eyed and bushier tailed.

Like last time, Jeonghan presented all of the arguments while you sat there taking and making notes. Occasionally Wade would lean over and confer with you, which you would relay to Jeonghan in a scribble. It was very seamless.

“Hell yes,” you muttered under your breath when the judge rendered his ruling. You shot Wade a triumphant look.

“Excellent work again, Attorney Yoon,” the judge complimented Jeonghan. “Young lady,” his gaze shifted to you. “You have a lot to learn from this man!”

“Of course your honor! I could never even dream of filing his shoes,” you nodded demurely, placing a hand on his forearm.

If Jeonghan was surprised at the contact, he didn't show it. Bytheway nodded curtly before leaving the courtroom.

“Woohoo!” you jumped excitedly, pumping your first in the air at Wade. “We did it!”

“Yes you did,” he nodded, more than pleased.

Jeonghan had to agree. While he may have presented arguments, the logic and work behind it had been all yours. Aside from a few meetings to review your positions and go over precedential cases, it had required nearly no work on his end. In fact, it felt more like he was playing the role of a lawyer rather than being one.

“Now we get celebratory bubble tea, right?” Jeonghan laughed as he pulled the car out of the courthouse parking lot

“Oh! I wouldn’t be opposed, if you want to stop.”

“Sure. Add the stop on the navigation,” he pointed to his phone.

“What do you get?” you asked Jeonghan as your eyes ran over the menu.

“Honeydew milk tea with boba.”

You nodded. Somehow that made sense for him. You paid for three orders: him, yourself, and Maja. Jeonghan’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the treat and you explained that you owed him for the help with the case.

“You did all the work,” he shrugged, but placed his wallet back into his pocket.

“Yes, but it wouldn’t have had the same outcome if I had been the one doing delivery. Wade and I would be having consolation bubble teas instead.”

Jeonghan snorted at the idea of your heavily mustached client drinking bubble tea. You smiled brightly at him and a sudden memory triggered for Jeonghan.

“On the count of Second Degree Murder, the jury finds the defendant ‘Not Guilty’.”

Your eyes had widened in disbelief. You’d been so stressed about this mock trial because the evidence just seemed impossible to spin in the right direction. You two had spent way too many hours on this extracurricular, but you were both so stubborn and determined that you’d treated it as if it were a real murder case.

“We did it,” you murmured in disbelief. “Jeonghan we did it!”

Jeonghan was surprised he could still recall the way your eyes had lit up at him that day. Today’s case was certainly no murder, but the win still seemed to trigger the same light of joy within you. He struggled to fight the infectious smile that crept onto his lips as you waited together for your tea.

…

“Oh oh oh!” you smacked the arm of the couch as you remembered something. “Shit! I totally forgot to tell you that I talked to Peter about the dating policy thing!”

“Oh!” Maja cocked her head at you.

“He said that he felt we should have a policy in place, but that he wouldn’t make it hard or prohibit people from dating internally! So that’s a good sign, right?”

“Hm, I suppose,” she pursed her lips.

“Have you decided what you want to do?”

“I would have kept seeing him had this merger not happened, but I feel so weird about dating the managing partner! Also I don’t want him to make an exception for me or write a lax policy because of our situation.”

You squinted at Maja. She was quite rigid when it came to principles and you weren’t sure if she was self sabotaging or what! It was rare for her to be interested in actually dating someone long term.

“Well could you just tell him that? Like exactly that. Cause I feel like you want to have a finalized solution to bring to him and I’m not sure that’s possible? This feels like a decision that you’ll have to make together.”

“You know I’m not very good at that,” she grumbled and you nodded. You did know that. “What about you? How are things with Flynn?”

You thought for a moment before answering. You’d been dating Flynn for almost half a year now and truth be told, things had been rocky for a couple of months. Since the merger, you’d been working longer hours and more cases in an effort to prove yourself to Harris. You’d always been married to your work, but prior to the merger, you’d known that partner was an inevitability.

Flynn was a dermatologist with very set office hours and a very ideal work-life balance. He didn’t really understand the difference in schedule demands of law and it had been a major source of friction lately. You wondered about compatibility for the future as you had no considerations of changing careers or tamping your ambition.

“Well that's not a good sign,” Maja’s eyes widened as you continued to be deep in thought for ten minutes.

“It could be better,” you admitted, “I’ve been working a lot lately.”

“Ah,” Maja nodded knowingly.

Throughout her time as a paralegal, she'd seen many relationships fall apart because of the workload demands. Being in a romantic relationship with a lawyer was not for everyone.

“What do you plan to do?” She was curious.

“Try harder?” you shrugged glibly.

Maja let out a sharp snort. That was always your solution.

“I don't know, to be honest,” you huffed, unsettling the hairs that framed your face.

“Really you should just marry your job. Or at least another lawyer. They're the only ones who really understand.”

“No thank you,” you answered tartly as you thought about the associates you knew well at Chae & A.

“Marry me then,” Maja joked. “We'll start our own law firm.”

“With blackjack! And hookers!” you answered before dissolving into a pile of giggles.

“I'd do it! Platonic marriage, I stan.”

“If we're still single at thirty five?” you suggested, sticking your pinky out to seal the deal.

“Deal!” Maja laughed, locking her finger in yours.

You were suddenly struck by a sense of deja vu. There was no way on earth, but you felt like you'd made this deal before.

back to index | chapter 2

#svthub #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seungkwansphd:writes #room for interpretation

[anamizuiro]

When They Are Self Aware [IkeVamp Edition]

(After reading many tumblr posts about sagau and sahsrau, I pondered...)

Warnings: Long, somewhat ooc (some of these are based of my own impression towards them after looking through posts related to them), 4th-wall destroyed, grammars

What happens when the suitors of Ikemen Vampire become self aware that they are game characters?

That question can lead to two possible answers: it's either chaos or wonder.

For now, it's wonder.

Think about it. They are characters based off of existing historical figures from different eras, right? Obviously, this kind of "technology" will baffle them slightly. Because this kind of thing wasn't even really a thing in their prime. The Protagonist serves as your eyes to see everyone. The residents also take notice of this. You can't really share your message across through MC's mouth. But your words did come across through the wind.

Jean may be wary about this, pondering "is this some sort of witchcraft? Or have God decided to come and punish me by filling my mind with madness and uncertainty?". Because, there's someone out there?? Outside this world observing him?? Some being he didn't know?? And they care for him too (judging from how he sometimes heard your quiet sobbing and desperate pleas, telling him to be aware that despite everything, there are people who care for him) ???? But why? He wondered, why? He don't know who or what is this being that is watching him. Certainly, it wasn't God.

But soon, everyone followed. Jean is no longer the only one who become aware of the presence of this being. One by one, the residents of the mansion followed suit.

×××

Sometimes, whenever Vincent paint sunflowers, everything feels much brighter. He felt some sort of giddiness whenever he draw beautiful scenes. He felt like someone is watching him painting. But this feeling... it didn't frighten him. Rather, he was content. It almost felt like he's a child drawing something while a relative or a parent watching with fond eyes. Sometimes, he swore he heard "I wonder what kind of painting he's making" or "I'm sure his painting is beautiful like the real deal. Too bad they don't show a picture of his paintings".

It's nice that whoever or whatever says this compliments his painting. But real deal? Does this mean someone has painted what he painted before? If so, who? Vincent cannot help but wanting to meet whoever this person is and told them that he wanted to give them credit for the original (poor guy doesn't even know the person you're talking about is the real life counter part of himself).

×××

Theo often hears soothing whispers in his dreams. Though he sometimes had a nightmare about how his brother died in his arms, these days they are followed by someone (or something) comforting him. Telling him that he's already good enough of a brother. And Vincent will still and always love him. But of course he prefer not to tell anyone about this, including Vincent. He didn't think it was necessary.

But, Theo often felt the same presence around Vincent. Whenever he accompanied him to buy art supplies or helping him with the next exhibition, he felt someone or something watching both of them with benevolence. Like a guardian angel, perhaps. Pair of eyes looking at them with fondness whenever they are together in any occasion. Perhaps there is indeed someone out there that care for them both.

×××

Let's face it, Arthur may or may not put up some theories on the wall of his room at first.

He began to note down these weird feeling of being watched. He will be intrigued. No matter where he looked at, this presence were nowhere near him. Or at least, not physically. But how come their presence lingers despite having no physical appearance? Did they use some sort of invisibility cloak? Or maybe this being is like a fairy, like the ones he believes in?

He may or may not use this as an inspiration for his next story

Though whenever he writes his next manuscript, the presence comes off even stronger. A pair of eyes ogling on him. Arthur felt like he was back in those days where he's working on his assignment as a student while being supervised by one of his professors. But it's different. There's a bit of pity in these invisible pair of eyes. But why did this being pity him for writing? What part of him is pitiable?

×××

Comte knew.

Nobody need to tell him about it. He already sensed this presence–your presence–that watches him and the residents. He have seen many unusual things, especially for someone who have lived for centuries.

Those nights he spent by looking at the sky, his golden lances glances specifically at the moon. Thinking that perhaps the celestial object in the sky could serve as your other pair of eyes aside from the woman who came through the door that was supposed to serve as your "vessel".

He longed for this presence. He longed for you. He felt all of your emotions whenever and wherever he is. Sometimes he felt happiness, bashfulness and sorrow. Like Arthur, he wondered what part of him that you pity. But he's content nonetheless. After all, he knows that there is someone out there who think of him.

×××

Isaac will be curious.

He never stops being curious, despite being awkward and socially shy. He's a scientist, a physician. Scientists ought to be curious of their surroundings.

While your (invisible) presence slightly scares him at first, he wondered where you are. If you're not here, then how are you watching him? From where are you watching him? Could it be that there's another world out there beyond his reach? Beyond the boundaries of this world he currently settles in? Was the theory of the existence of parallel universe gain its fame from now on?

He'll never know unless he finally got to meet you. Science has no boundaries, right?

×××

When Sebastian realized this for the first time, he is... unsure how to feel. Considering that he came from the year where advanced technology is still in research and work in progress overall. Could this be the so called simulated world? Like the ones in those fictional stories? But that's too advanced! No way a human can replicate this kind of experience on such a device! Even if they did, what kind of device is it?

Sometimes he heard your adoring whispers of how he is such a big history geek. It kind of caught him off guard. Getting praised by the residents is more than enough to give him a heart attack but when you did it? He might as well lay down on a sofa for a while to process this newfound sense of content.

×××

Like Comte, Vlad is also aware of this.

To think that there is a world out there, and you living on it. Vlad would definitely be content whenever you log in to the game. To the point he will frequently appear in your check-in screen. Saying things of how he is so happy to see you and your presence always made his day.

He also felt your eyes looking at him whenever he goes on to his usual routine. And you wouldn't believe how giddy it made him feel. He felt like a kid again.

Vlad will also look at the moon whenever he think of you. Once again, like Comte, he believed that the moon in the world he lives in serves as your other pair of eyes to see what's going on in this world. If you were out there watching him, the world you lived in must be a peaceful one. Since he sometimes heard your soft giggles in his dream.

This time, he will find a way to see you. Maybe he could borrow Comte's door for a while.

Or maybe he can... find a way to tinker with the game's mechanics to communicate with you.

×××

Napoleon doesn't really think much about the existence of other worlds. Until now.

He once said that he didn't really care of what people think of him. Or how the books described him. He's just a man right in front of you. In front of your screen, that is. Because that's what he told you. But when he came to realized that the world he's living in is a game, a dimension among the binaries simply with a purpose to satisfy those who seek the thrill and adventures of romance, he is shocked.

What do you mean that there are other people out there who played his route? The only presence he felt was yours. He didn't feel anyone else. Is this some sort of fate? Another destiny given to him?

Sometimes, Napoleon heard your whispers in the wind. One time, when he was teaching the children, he heard your faint whisper of praise. Telling him that he's a good teacher. It made him blanked out for a moment until a child have to tug his hand to get him back on track. Despite contemplating whether to tell Isaac about this or not, he did it anyways. And surprisingly, Isaac told him that sometimes he experiences the same thing.

The former Emperor may look calm on the outside. Meanwhile, he began to bury his face on the pillow as he recalled that day.

×××

When Dazai blanked out in the rain, he swore he heard an echo of you calling his name. His eyes blinked as more raindrops falling to his skin. Soaking every inch of his clothing wet. His eyes looked around, wondering where your voice came from before looking back to the cloudy sky once again.

When the sound of rain masked any other noises in his surroundings, your voice went through to him. Your voice sound so sad. He thought, Why do you sound so sad? Who are you feeling sad for?

Yet he yearned for your voice. He sometimes wished it will be raining the next day. Or the next month. All because he felt like your voice is much clearer when it's raining. Sometimes he sits so close to the window when it's raining, eyes looking into the distance, and face looking solemn.

×××

The thought of lovers limited by otherworldly boundaries is such an interesting concept for Shakespeare. It's like Romeo and Juliet but... much better? And with a bit of magic?? No one is dying except that they are now pining for eternity without resolution??

Better be prepared of extra letters you will receive. Sometimes it came from your in-game mailbox. You might want to read it, because it's mostly collection of poem dedicated for you, his so-called otherworldly muse. So many metaphors and shakespearean terms, you might need an expert to help you translate them. Unless you have an experience in arts of theatrics.

Shakespeare will not hesitate to write this down as his new play. About a man who fell in love with a woman who lives far away. And the only thing that could keep them connected was the whispers in the wind. As for how the tale will end, he might need to think about it later. He knew that many of his fans will be a little surprised in this sudden turn of his style. But, hey, he's eager to see you beyond the screen as you watch him directing his play.

×××

Giddy is an understatement. Charles is truly ecstatic. It doesn't matter if he's just a game character. There's someone out there who care for him and loves him? Well, mark him down as happy. He's ready to smother all of his love for you. All he needs to do left is to find a way to get the message across.

What should he send you? An extra diamond? extra drop rate for his card gacha? A bonus secret letter that only you can access? And where should he send his presents? The mailbox? Or just outright on the check-in screen? Charles have so many options yet so indecisive. Because he wants do all of it.

Charles would do anything for you. ANYTHING. He will go through the seven seas and seven land even if it meant that he could finally see you. He's ready to break the game as long as he can talk to you. He's quite lonely, you know?

×××

Faust chuckled in amusement. The scientist have become the observed guinea pig, huh? What an interesting turn of events.

He wondered if you enjoyed watching him. Now that you see him through the eyes of the female protagonist that became your eyes. He wondered if he looked deeper into her eyes, he will saw you. Right there, beyond the screen. Perhaps giggling or just smiling. Or just having neutral expression.

×××

Overall, once they have realized that they are just game characters and they can "see" you, expect for sudden extra diamonds sitting in your mailbox or their greeting become much much livelier than usual.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp comte #ikevamp charles #ikevamp faust #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp dazai

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

no one's writing *to you* in their tags. tags are a personal monologue for their personal blog. the fact that you can see them is a new(er) feature.

there is no "punching down" going on, either. brits aren't oppressed. you are colonizers just as much as the americans are - if not more so, considering the list of countries affected by american imperialism is shorter than the list of countries NOT affected by british imperialism.

For the most part I'm just blocking the tiny handful of you who are pretending this is something it isn't, but there's something I want to address in this, so:

Firstly, I agree there's no punching down, but you have wholly misunderstood that - it wasn't me who said there was. It was one of the nine (9) Americans who have been very offended by me explaining that their strange attitude to foreign dialects rather than just Googling and moving on is considered rude. They claimed that I was punching down by being a big meanie to Americans.

Secondly, I have not claimed anywhere that I am being oppressed, either. You have invented that. Once again, I literally just explained that this attitude is rude. That is all.

And thirdly, I know how new tags are. I also slightly disagree with you though, which is why I'm answering this. Tags certainly used to be just for you and your followers, but now that Tumblr shows them to the OP of a post, I'm afraid they're also for the OP - it's targeted right at you in your notifications. But again, for a third time, I need to challenge your reading comprehension, because multiple of those tags was quite literally addressed 'to me'.

Anyway, I absolutely cannot stress enough how weird this situation is. I've counted. It's literally nine of you who are offended by this. All nine of you, interestingly, have not actually understood what I said, and have invented extra things that you're pretending I said and then getting mad about it. Everyone else has agreed, and that includes the vast majority of Americans, even. If you go through the notes on some of those posts, there are even multiple people talking about how they ended up writing fic in US English, even though it wasn't their dialect, because it was less stressful than dealing with this weird US attitude to new spellings and words. I encourage you to go and read those, anon. You clearly haven't understood the topic, as this ask makes obvious, but you should probably fight that urge to defensiveness, and try to do so.

Finally, let me tell you something else about how Tumblr works: it's called the block button. If you ever feel the urge to send someone anonymous hate, go and click it. It will save both you and them some time. I hope this helps.

#asks #here be anonsters #very strange day lads

[draziris]

Debt

• Aemond Targaryen x female!Lucerys Velaryon •

[The only certainty Aemond Targaryen had, after losing his eye and claiming Vhagar, was that the exchange wasn't fair. Perhaps it was even his mother's nerves calming down or him still being the center of attention after the ambush he was caught in. But years after his nephews left for Dragon Stone with his sister, Aemond was certain that his anger wouldn't fade or be extinguished. Not until he made her pay for the suffering she had caused him. And now, he counted the days until the moment arrived, when he would take from her what was most precious to her.]

[Disclaimer: Mature content, violence, slightly dark!Aemond]

• Hello! This is my first fanfic post on Tumblr and in English. I usually post stories on Wattpad in Portuguese — with the same name — and decided to expand to a new language. I hope you enjoy it. I plan to post more stories here. This fanfic is about an alternative version of Lucemond — with Lucerys being a woman; the characters have different ages from the original work — we don't want any crimes here — Lucille is eighteen years old and Aemond is twenty-two. •

It was an obsession. Aemond knew it, yet he couldn't stop the thoughts that grew with each passing day. The hatred. The resentment. His face was marked forever, destined to be covered by an eyepatch that would conceal his shame until his last days. He trained for years, became one of the finest swordsmen in Westeros, tamed the largest dragon in the world, and yet, he would never be a whole man without his eye.

He thought that when she left, his problems would leave with her. His resentments would vanish, and his pain would heal. But that wasn't what happened. His hatred and bitterness grew, and with them, the desire for revenge. Deep down, he couldn't accept how his father never defended him, how he, like most of his family, sided with those bastards.

Every time he saw himself in the mirror, and gazed into the sapphire stone in his eye, he remembered that night. He remembered the pain. He remembered her. The cursed bastard who caused this.

The object of his hatred. Lucille Velaryon.

-

Lucille could barely recall King's Landing. Perhaps because she had left at a very young age, or perhaps because the events leading up to her move to Dragonstone were… tumultuous. Yet here she was again, not for the desired reason, and certainly not with a warm reception. Her mother and Daemon seemed disappointed when no one greeted them, and they asked Jace to accompany his sister to the quarters where she would stay.

As they walked through the corridors, Lucille vaguely remembered the stairs, some statues, and with those details, memories of her childhood flooded back. She remembered the times when Jacaerys and Aegon included her in their games, especially when it came to playing pranks on Aemond.

Aemond. She swallowed hard. If there was one wish she could make at that moment, it would be to not cross paths with her uncle.

Surely he hadn't forgotten the events of seven years ago, and who was responsible for it. The responsible one.

"See," Jace exclaimed, pointing to a dragon statue. "It's still the same. You can see the crack from when we bumped into it and knocked it to the ground. Otto almost killed us that day, remember?"

"Yes," Lucille weakly smiled.

Jace's expression changed as he noticed his sister's demeanor. "Don't worry about today, Lucy. Everything will be sorted out. You are the true heir to Driftmark."

Lucy let out an ironic laugh, looking at her brother as they walked. "You don't even believe that yourself."

"Stop it," Jace complained.

"We are…" Lucy said to her brother exasperatedly, pausing for a moment to lower her voice. "bastards, Jace."

Jacaerys looked at her with a disappointed look and then shrugged, continuing to walk. Lucille quickened her pace to keep up with him.

"Bastards or not, Lord Corlys chose you to be the successor of Driftmark," Jace said confidently. "You should be grateful and embrace your destiny."

Lucy averted her gaze, saying nothing more. When they reached the end of the corridor, Jacaerys nodded for them to go to the door leading to the training ground. Her brother always enjoyed fights. Lucille tried for a few years, but gave up when she realized she had more skill with the bow and arrow than with the sword.

They approached the stairs leading outside and descended the steps. Jace seemed very excited to watch the fights up close. However, the elder brother headed toward the nearby gate and pointed to the huge hole in the wall. He turned to Lucille with a convincing expression, and she rolled her eyes.

"See, I told you it would still be here," Jace said proudly. "It was the day I thought I could wield Sir Criston's Morningstar."

"You almost lost your head that day," Lucy laughed.

Jacaerys nodded, joining her to look at the weapons laid out on a table. Lucille glanced sideways, noticing some Court members looking at them and whispering. She quickly looked ahead, feeling dejected.

"What's your problem?" Jace asked, holding a sword.

"They're staring at us," she said, moving closer to her brother. "They wouldn't question my right to Driftmark's inheritance if I looked more like Laenor… And less like Sir Harwin Strong."

"Let them talk," Jace said, looking his sister in the eyes. In the next moment, they heard the clash of something strong enough to echo across the training ground. Jacaerys called his sister to come closer, and they both went to the small crowd that had formed.

Lucille peeked behind her brother at the fight unfolding. The first thing that caught her attention was the tall platinum-haired youth wielding a sword and shield. It wasn't difficult to identify a Targaryen when you saw one. However, she didn't expect to be surprised to find out it wasn't Aegon, but Aemond.

Her uncle and her brother often teased him for being clumsy and relatively shorter than Aegon. She didn't imagine he had changed so much over the years. She felt discomfort as she observed the eyepatch on his face, covering enough so that his eye couldn't be seen, and leaving the scar, which extended from above his eyebrow to his cheek, exposed.

His movements seemed perfectly calculated as he dodged Sir Criston Cole's attacks. A gasp escaped Velaryon's lips when Criston hit Aemond's shield harder, forcing him to release the object. Now he only had his sword to defend himself. Criston advanced once more, and again, until Aemond finally found a chance to dodge and gain an advantage, aiming the sword directly at the man's throat.

Applause spread across the field as Sir Criston congratulated him. "This way, you'll be ready to win the tournament."

"I don't give a shit about tournaments," he said, lowering his sword. And then, as if he had known they were there all along, he turned to Lucy and Jace. "Nephews. Came to train?"

Before Jace could say anything, the gates were opened, and the commotion that had gathered to watch the fight now shifted their attention to the arrival of the carriage. However, Lucy couldn't avert her gaze so quickly, not when Aemond was staring at her with such intensity that she swore he would plunge that sword into her throat at any moment.

Neither of them blinked. Neither of them looked away.

Jacaerys pulled his sister's hand, finally snapping her out of her trance and making her follow him. Vaemond Velaryon had arrived.

-

In the next day, Rhaenyra and Daemon were already waiting for them in the Throne Room when they arrived. Jace had taken her to her room first, so she could settle in, and then they went to the place where the Council would take place. The entire Court was positioned along the hall, and it didn't take long for her to catch sight of three platinum-haired heads up ahead. If Aemond was the one with the eyepatch, then Aegon and Helaena were the others.

She gave a small smile to her aunt when their gazes met, and then her smile faded as she noticed the looks from Aegon and Aemond. She joined her brother and her parents, along with her cousins. Daemon laid his hand on her shoulder, a subtle form of support. Daemon Targaryen might not be her biological father, but he cared for her and Jace as if he were.

"Although it is the fervent hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his injuries, we gather here with the daunting task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark." Otto said, seated on the throne. "As Hand, I speak with the voice of the King on this and all other matters. The Crown will now hear petitions."

A small buzz spread through the hall, and Lucy withdrew a bit, leaning on her mother.

"Sir Vaemond of House Velaryon."

The man walked to the center of the hall, standing facing the throne. He gave a disdainful look to Rhaenyra and her children before speaking. He then glanced at Alicent and Otto Hightower.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand." He cleared his throat. "The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. Since House Targaryen ruled the skies, House Velaryon ruled the seas. When Doom fell upon Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our ancestors came to this new land, knowing that if they failed, it would mean the end of their lineages and their names."

Lucille raised her gaze to the man, who still had his gaze forward.

"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest relative, his own blood. The true and irreproachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

"As it does with my children, descendants of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra interjected quickly, drawing the Court's attention. Lucille watched Sir Vaemond turn to them, with a look that could set fire if he could. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Sir Vaemond, you wouldn't be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition."

"You will have the chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Sir Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard." Alicent intervened.

"What do you know about Velaryon blood, princess?" Vaemond narrowed his eyes at Rhaenyra. "I could cut my veins and show you, and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours."

He looked at Lucille with irritation before turning back to the front.

"My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of my house's survival and my lineage above all else. I humbly stand before you as the successor to my brother... the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Sir Vaemond." Otto said, then looked to Rhaenyra. "Princess Rhaenyra, now you may speak for your daughter, Lucille Velaryon."

Rhaenyra stroked her daughter's back, where her hand rested, one last time and then walked to where Sir Vaemond stood.

"If I wish to grace this farce with any response, I will begin by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, on this very same..."

Her speech was interrupted by the sound of the royal gates, making the entire Court, including Rhaenyra, turn to see who had arrived. Lucille gasped when she saw her grandfather balancing on a cane, with a mask on his face. She didn't remember him being so debilitated. She looked at Daemon, and he nodded at her. He knew something.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." One of the guards announced.

All eyes watched the king descend the stairs leading to the Royal Court and slowly walk toward the throne. He paused for a moment, looking at his daughter, and then continued walking. He said something to Otto that Lucy couldn't understand, and then began to ascend the stairs to his throne. As he started to climb the stairs with difficulty, his crown fell.

Everyone watched as Prince Daemon approached and picked up the object, helping his brother up the steps and then placing the crown back on his king's head. He then returned to his family.

"I must... admit... my confusion." Viserys breathed heavily. "I fail to understand why petitions are being heard on an established succession. The only one present... who can offer a sharper insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is Princess Rhaenys."

Rhaenys Targaryen smiled at her cousin, taking a step forward. "Indeed, Your Grace."

Rhaenys walked to the center of the hall.

"It has always been my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Sir Laenor to his true daughter... Lucille Velaryon. His mind never wavered. Nor did my support for him." She said, then looked at Rhaenyra before continuing. "In fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace to Lord Corlys's granddaughter, Baela. A proposal with which I wholeheartedly agree."

Viserys nodded.

"Well... the matter is settled. Again. Through this meeting, I reaffirm Princess Lucille of House Velaryon as the heir to Driftmark, the Throne of Driftwood, and the next Lady of the Tides."

"You break the law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet, you dare to tell me... who deserves to inherit the Velaryon name." He spits, anger in his voice. "No. I will not allow it."

"Allow?" The king repeats. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

"She is not a true Velaryon, and certainly not a niece of mine." He shouts, pointing at Lucille, who shrinks. "Not to mention the absurdity of naming a woman as the new Lord of Driftmark."

"Lucille is my legitimate granddaughter." Viserys syllables. "And you... are but the second son of Driftmark."

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine." He says angrily. "My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations. And damn the gods... I will not see the end of it because of this..."

He then gave Lucille a sarcastic look. The Velaryon averted her gaze, staring at the floor. She then heard Daemon whisper behind her: "Say it."

"Your sons... are bastards! And she... is... a whore." He snarls.

Lucille feels her heart pounding as she gasps along with the crowd. Shame takes over her gaze, especially when she meets the green eyes. Aegon holds back a laugh, while Aemond watches them with a restrained smile. Mockery. Ridicule.

She feels a hand touch her shoulder as Daemon passes behind her, disappearing into the crowd.

Viserys rises with difficulty and pulls a dagger from his waist. "I... will tear out your tongue for this."

Vaemond didn't have time to respond or defend himself. In a second, his body was on the floor, part of his head separated, rolling across the marble. Lucille stifles a scream, hiding her face on her brother's shoulder. Jace doesn't move. Everyone emits a scream in the hall, and the guards draw their swords.

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower shouts.

"There's no need." Daemon defends, sheathing his sword and stepping aside.

The king gasps, falling onto his throne.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent orders, running to her husband.

A body on the floor. A king on the brink of death. The circus for those who wished for the kingdom's fall was set. The princess lifts her gaze once again to where the green were. Helaena still covers her ears with her hands, and Aegon watches the scene. But Aemond is no longer there.

"Let's go, Lucy." Jace says in her ear, holding her shoulders and guiding her out of the hall along with the others.

-

Lucille didn't want to face her family. Not after the words spoken against her and her brother by Vaemond Velaryon. She knew what the courtiers whispered about her. She had known since she was seven. Since the night Aemond conquered Vhagar and hurled insults at her and her brother. They'll die in the fire like their father, he said. What Aemond perhaps didn't remember was that, like him, Lucille and Jacaerys were of the fire. The blood of Velaryon might not flow through their veins, but Targaryen blood certainly did.

She reminded him of that on the same night when she took one of his eyes.

However, they were no longer children. Accusations about her legitimacy now weighed much more, especially as a woman. Her existence was doubly an affront to the Crown. She knew that. Only the blind were incapable of seeing it.

She was finishing getting ready when Jace knocked on her door, announcing that they should go to the private dining room.

"Help me with this necklace," she asked when he entered the room. "Our father gave it to me. It was Aunt Laena's."

A delicate necklace with a seahorse pendant. Her father had given her the necklace on the day her sister had passed away. According to him, a part of Laena Velaryon would exist in her as long as she wore it.

"Don't mind the words spoken by Vaemond today," Jace said, trying to calm his sister. "No one took him very seriously."

Lucille sighed. "You know that's not true."

"Lucy..."

"They are not blind, Jace," she said, turning to her brother. "For Vaemond to have the courage to question the succession of Driftmark, he would have to have more support than just his pride. It's only a matter of time before there is retaliation for his death."

"Daemon would never allow it."

"I don't wish to rule over a sea of blood," she said, sighing. "I just wish I had been born legitimate... And a man. If our father had named Joffrey as his successor, perhaps there wouldn't be so many questions."

"Our mother will be the next to sit on the Iron Throne," Jace reminded her. "Being a woman or a man is no longer a question. Our father chose you as his successor, and Lord Corlys agreed with his choice. There's nothing more to question."

Jacaerys smiled and held her hand. "I will always be by your side, little sister."

Lucille smiled back at him and nodded. The siblings walked out of the room, heading to where the family dinner would be served.

When they arrived in the private dining room, they found everyone except the king. Aegon and Aemond were talking in one corner, while Alicent, Otto, Helaena, Rhaena, and Baela were seated at the table, and Rhaenyra and Daemon were conversing in another corner of the room. Servants came, placing dishes on the table. When their presence was noticed, Rhaena and Baela stood up, joining their cousins.

"How are you?" Rhaena asked, holding Lucille's hand.

"I'm fine," she said softly. "Did anyone try to kill each other?"

"Our father seems to be keeping himself in check since earlier," Baela said, opening a small smile. "Our uncle didn't act right by uttering those words to you and Jace. My father would never allow the honor of our family to be slandered like that."

"They will comment on the incident for some time, but they will soon forget," Rhaena said. "It's important to show some strength from time to time."

Lucille nodded, though she didn't agree with violence. Over Rhaena's shoulder, she could perceive the Targaryen brothers' gazes on them. She didn't look directly at them, but she felt they were watching her.

"The king is coming," a guard announced.

Everyone headed to the table, taking their seats. On one side, Otto and Alicent sat next to Rhaenyra and Daemon, separated by the space where the king's chair would be. Facing them were Helaena, Aegon, Jacaerys, and Baela. At one end, Rhaena and Lucille, and at the other, Aemond.

A terrible place, she thought when her uncle sat facing her. She couldn't help but meet his gaze as he sat down. The only eye he had left burning steadily on her figure.

She averted, looking to her mother. In the next moment, the presence of Viserys was announced, and he entered, seated in his chair, carried by four guards. The banquet began, and the king gave a speech. Lucille watched him with pity. Pity because even on the brink, Viserys still believed that his family could be saved.

"How good it is... to see all of you tonight... together," the king said with difficulty.

"A prayer before we begin?" Alicent suggested, and the king agreed. "May the Mother smile upon this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for too long...

As Alicent recited her prayer with closed eyes, the table accompanied her. Aegon drank some of his wine, oblivious to the customs. Lucille kept her hands together on the table, but her eyes roamed over everyone there, until they settled on Aemond, who kept his eye closed, in a quiet posture. A strange sensation ran through her body. Lucille couldn't explain if it was fear or admiration.

"And for Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods grant him rest," Alicent said finally, and Lucille could hear a small sigh of laughter from her stepfather.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandson, Jace, will marry his cousin, Baela, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young prince... and his bride," Viserys raised his glass, followed by the others.

"Hear, hear," Daemon cheered. "This isn't the only marriage we'll have ahead of us."

Curious glances turned to the Targaryen prince. He moved his gaze to Rhaenyra and then to Lucille.

"Lucille has received a marriage proposal from the North. Lord Cregan Stark proposed her hand in marriage, to unite both houses in a lasting union," Rhaenyra commented. "We chose to accept the proposal. Lucille agreed."

"Now, the North," Viserys said with a smile on his face. "I heard they have huge wolves as their companions. And that the cold is so intense they wear fur coats all the time."

Lucille nodded with a smile. "They also have great warriors. Lord Cregan Stark is a formidable warrior, I've heard."

"It must reek of dog," Aegon murmured against his cup, low enough for only his siblings to hear.

"A toast to my granddaughter, Lucille, may her rule in Driftmark be prosperous, and her marriage to Lord Cregan Stark be beneficial to both houses," Viserys raised his cup again.

Everyone toasted, except for Aegon... And Aemond. Her eyes meet his again, and she can feel the tension in her body. He holds his cup on the table, his jaw tensed. She doesn't know what he's thinking or feeling, but she knows it's not something good.

When he looks away, she does the same.

"You'll do just fine," Rhaena celebrates quietly beside her, and Lucille forces a smile.

"It warms my heart and saddens me at the same time to see these faces around the table. The most beloved faces to me in the whole world... but so distant from each other... in recent years," Viserys begins to say, rising from his seat. He takes off his mask, revealing a face taken over by his illness. An eye missing. Lucille holds her breath for a moment. "My own face... is no longer beautiful... if it ever was. But tonight... I wish for you to see me... as I am. Not just a king... but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grandfather. One who may not be able to... walk among you much longer."

He pauses, and Lucille meets her brother's gaze and then the table. Viserys continues:

"Let's not hold any more ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot remain strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."

The king says and then sits back down, putting on his mask again. After a minute of silence, Lucille watches her mother rise with her cup.

"I wish to raise my glass to Your Grace, the Queen," she says, looking at Alicent. "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has been... more faithfully by his side than his good wife."

Alicent looks at her attentively, trying to understand her words.

"She cared for him with... unwavering devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apologies," she says finally, sitting back down.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, princess," Alicent says. "We are both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my glass to you... and to your house. You will be a beautiful queen."

A moment of affection takes over the table, and the two seem to understand each other after a long time. The momentary softness is abruptly interrupted minutes later when Jacaerys stands up abruptly, banging his fist on the table.

"Jace," Lucille says, surprised.

She watches Aemond suddenly stand up, while Aegon returns to his seat. Tension crosses the two princes. Jace then turns to his sister and gives her a sympathetic smile before raising his cup.

"To Prince Aegon and... Prince Aemond," Jace nods towards Aemond. "We haven't seen each other in years, but I have good memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we can still be friends and allies. To your health and that of your family, dear uncles."

He gives Aegon a little punch on the shoulder, who looks bored on his chair. "To you as well."

"Beware the beast beneath the boards," Helaena murmurs.

"Very well done, my boy," Viserys tells his grandson.

Suddenly, Helaena stands up.

"I'd like to toast to Baela and Lucy. They will be getting married soon," she says. "It's not that bad. Most of the time, he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk."

Daemon lets out a muffled laugh. Lucille directs a strained smile at her aunt. Poor Helaena.

"Let's hear some music," Viserys announces.

The musicians start playing, making the atmosphere more relaxed. Jace whispers something in Baela's ear and then gets up, walking over to Helaena's chair and extending his hand to her. The princess accepts without hesitation, being led to the center of the dining room. The two dance joyfully.

Although happy for Jace's marriage to Baela, Lucille can't help but think how nice it would be if her brother had married Helaena. Her aunt would be much happier. She watches them dance for a while and doesn't notice her uncle's presence by her side.

"Care to dance?" Aegon asks in her ear, extending his hand.

She accepts out of politeness, being led to where Jacaerys and Helaena were. Lucille notices her brother's hateful look in their direction. Aegon seems to be having fun.

"You've grown, niece," he taunts in her ear, holding her waist.

"We all have, uncle," Lucille replies.

"No. I mean, in another way," he smiles. "In the way only a woman can."

She shifts uncomfortably in his grasp as he guides her during the dance.

"Lord Stark, huh?" he says. "I heard the northerners are wild. Especially in bed."

"I don't pay attention to rumors."

"You should," he smiles, leaning closer to her ear. "I can teach you a few things before you get married."

A loud noise echoes through the room, cutting off the music. Lucille turns to the table, watching Aemond leaning menacingly over it. When the gazes turn to him, he stands up, holding his cup. His gaze is fixed on the dancing couples. She also notices that her grandfather was no longer there.

"Final tribute," he says. "To the health of my nephews: Jace... Lucille... and Joffrey. Each of them beautiful, wise... hm... strong."

"Aemond," Alicent scolds him.

"Come... let's raise our cups to these three..." He pauses, smiling ironically at Lucille. "Strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again," Jace threatens, breaking free from Helaena.

"Why? It was just a compliment," Aemond smiles scornfully. "Don't you consider yourself strong?"

Before Lucille could react to stop her brother, Jacaerys lunged at Aemond, hitting him with a punch.

"Jace!" Lucille and Rhaenyra shouted at the same time.

Just as Lucille was about to run to her brother, Aegon grabbed her wrist, but she quickly pulled away, stepping on his foot. The prince grunted in pain. Chaos ensued.

"Why would you say such a thing in front of these people?" Alicent scolded her son, approaching him.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother," Aemond said in a sarcastic tone, then turned to Jace and Lucille. "Hmm, although it seems my nephews aren't as proud of theirs."

Lucille struggled to keep Jace in the same place.

"Tell me, dear niece, is being strong such a vile adjective?" Aemond mocked.

"Don't speak to my sister!" Jace yelled.

"Why?" Aemond growled, turning to Jace. "Your sister has an outstanding debt."

"I have no debt," Lucille replied.

"Shall I refresh your memory?"

Jace lunged again and Daemon was the one who stood in front of him this time. With just a gesture, the Dragon Prince pushed his stepson aside, calling for silence. Rhaenyra hurried to send them to their chambers.

The last thing Lucille saw before leaving the dining room with her brother and cousins was Aemond's burning gaze upon them.

It would be a long stay, she thought.

-

Lucille couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, consumed by anxiety. Flashes of the previous day played in her mind. Vaemond Velaryon's retaliation, her grandfather's speech, Aegon's jests, and Aemond's words. Not just his words, but also his looks. She hadn't expected her uncle to have gotten over losing an eye so easily, but she hadn't imagined he would resent her so much either.

They were children, after all, and Lucille was protecting her brother. He himself had said that night: it was a fair trade. An eye for a dragon.

But years later, she realized that nothing had changed.

Sometimes she remembered the past. How the four—Jace, Aegon, Aemond, and she—were close before juvenile squabbles began. Before doubts about her legitimacy arose. But that time was gone.

She sighed, turning over one last time before getting up. She wouldn't be able to sleep. She walked around the room, looking for something to distract herself. There was nothing. Maybe she could find a book in the library, one that would occupy her until sleep came.

She grabbed a coat, covering her body that had only a nightgown, and opened her room door slowly. The corridor was dark, lit by a few candle points. She slinked along the walls, heading to the library and quickly leaving it. She carried two books in one arm.

As she held the doorknob of her room, she felt a sudden approach and a cold object against her throat, making her freeze.

"Jace—" She choked, thinking of calling her brother's name, who was in the room next door.

"Your brother isn't here now." Aemond. "I am. Come in."

She swallowed hard. Her uncle wouldn't kill her, would he? Her mother would burn him and the whole castle if he did.

She obeyed, entering the room without turning once. She heard him close and lock the door. She suppressed a cry in her throat. When she gathered courage and turned around, Aemond was still with his back turned, covered by a dark blue cape.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, gathering the courage that remained.

"Lord Cregan Stark, hm?" He asked irritably, turning.

Lucille gasped at the sight before her. Aemond was without his eye patch. The sapphire blue shone intensely against the strands of moonlight streaming through his window, glinting. His face looked much more threatening, partially obscured by the hood, and his gaze never seemed so intense as it did now. She observed the scar that crossed his eye. A scar she caused.

"You won't marry him," he said.

"How?" She asked, confused.

"I'm not a man to say the same thing twice." He said, advancing a step. She backed away. He smiled, seeing how it affected her. "Do you fear me, niece?"

"N-No."

Lie.

"Why are you here?" She asked, glancing quickly at the dagger he carried.

"I came to settle accounts." He replied. "You owe me."

"I don't owe you anything." She said in a moment of courage.

A mistake.

In the next moment, her body was pressed against the wall of her room, Aemond's grip on her throat, his face close to hers. "Don't you?"

Lucille was paralyzed.

"Look at my face," he said impatiently.

The princess gasped heavily. Her eyes wandered from the lilac iris to the sapphire stone he sported. His breath was against her face, his breathing heavy with anger. She never imagined him so close in this way. He was taller than her, which made her keep her neck raised under his hand. He applied a slight pressure against her flesh, making her feel a strange sensation of warmth. God, what was happening? If anyone saw them like this...

"What do you see?" He asked, impatiently.

"Aemond..." She gasped when he slid his thumb along her neck, testing the territory. Blue eyes against lilac.

When did he become so attractive?

She wanted to push the thought out of her head, but it was difficult when, for the first time, she was so close to a man who wasn't her brother. So close to a man who was once her old friend and who had grown so fast. A man who had been haunting her thoughts since the moment she took his eye. A man who looked at her like no one ever had and who pursued her relentlessly. She considered herself crazy for a moment.

"You've been mine since you took my eye," he whispered threateningly against her lips. "Not some Northern Lord's."

Lucille gasped as she felt him getting closer, accommodating his knee between her legs. She sucked in air, feeling like she would faint right there. "A-Aemond, I'm engaged..."

"Then say it, say you belong to Lord Cregan Stark..." He whispered in her ear, moving her leg. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Aemond's other hand held her waist possessively, pulling her slightly to him, forcing her body to have friction against his leg. His lips found her neck. God, she thought, he was making everything difficult. "Say you want Lord Stark."

"Aemond..." She whispered in a pleading tone. She wanted him to stop, but at the same time, she didn't want him to.

He descended his kisses to the valley of her breasts, only covered by the thin nightgown. He pulled her coat down with some impatience. She shivered with the sudden cold. His hands returned to her waist, pulling her in a jerk. She wore nothing to cover her intimacy, which made contact with his leg hallucinating. She had never felt anything like it.

"Say it." He teased, kissing her over her nightgown.

She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, leaning her back against the wall. Nothing would have prepared her for what was to come.

Aemond knelt down and lifted her nightgown, raising one of her legs over his shoulder. She gasped as she felt his lips kissing there.

"Aemond!" She squeaked.

He squeezed her raised thigh and her hip in a silent way to ask her to be quiet. She obeyed, not wanting to be caught like this. How would she explain the fact that Aemond Targaryen was in her room so late at night? Her thoughts were silenced by his lips on her intimacy, moving against her folds, finding a sensitive spot.

Lucille jolted, making him release a puff of air against her, probably laughing at her innocence. In the next moment, she felt his tongue working. He explored every corner of her, every fold, every taste. The princess couldn't help but seek support on the Targaryen's head, covered by her silk nightgown. She moaned softly, feeling the sensations he caused her.

At one point, he hit what seemed to be her sensitive spot. She moaned a bit louder, making him tighten his grip on her hands and move faster. She gasped. "A-Aemond, I..."

She murmured desperate, disconnected words, feeling pleasure increasing more and more. He wouldn't stop. She didn't want him to stop. But she didn't know where it would lead. She closed her eyes tightly, gripping the silver strands beneath her fingers, and when the climax hit her, violently, she slumped forward, being held by him.

He stood up, licking his lips. His face was intoxicated, lips wet. She had done this. She gasped, still limp, being held by him against the wall.

"Do you know what Lord Stark would do now?" He whispered in her ear. "He would throw you on that bed… Rip off your clothes… And fuck you like a whore."

"Aemond…" She gasped.

He moved his left hand to the middle of her legs, sneaking two fingers into her intimate part and thrusting them inside her. The princess clutched his garment covering his arm, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. "Say it. Say you desire Cregan Stark."

His fingers bent, forming a hook, and began to move inside her, in a back and forth motion in the spongy area. He increased his speed. With his other hand, he grabbed her nape, pulling the princess into a kiss.

She moaned under his touch, and just when she thought that sensation would come again, he stopped. The feeling as intensely as it began, ceased.

"Aemond." Lucille grumbled.

She leaned her face closer to his, and he recoiled. He was having fun, she realized. He was enjoying playing with the sensations he caused her, with the temptation he caused her, and with the limit she could reach.

She knew she had reached a point of no return.

"Say you're mine." He ordered. "Not Cregan Stark's. Not any other man's. Say you're mine, and I'll make you my wife."

She parted her lips, reality hitting her chest once again. Her family would never allow this. Rhaenyra and Daemon were content with her engagement to Lord Stark, and she doubted Alicent Hightower would agree to a possible union between her son and Rhaenyra's daughter.

"No man will be able to satisfy you the way I will," he said, sliding his hand to the side of her chest, sneaking his thumb under her breast. "We are dragons. We are meant to burn."

Burn. Well, that's what she felt. As Aemond touched her body in a way she never imagined, she felt her body catch fire. A heat she never imagined feeling radiated from within her, and she didn't know if she could control it for much longer.

"I thought I was just a bastard to you," she whispered, testing the boundaries of provocation.

"You are," he replied, tucking a strand of hair from her face. "But you're mine."

"I was never yours, Aemond."

His thumb slid to the nipple covered by the nightgown, and she gasped softly. "You've been mine since the moment you took out my eye." He moved his other hand to her neck, lifting her chin with his thumb. "Since the moment you occupied my thoughts every day after your departure and since the moment you set foot in King's Landing. After that night, I realized that Vhagar wasn't the only thing I wanted to claim."

"What was it?" She asked, looking directly into his eye. She already knew the answer.

"You."

Lucille breathed slowly, her chest rising and falling. Aemond drew closer, pressing his body against hers until his chin rested on the top of her head. His fingers caressed her back, trailing down to her covered buttocks, and he placed his hands there, pressing her body against his. Lucille gasped when she felt something rigid between his legs. He moved one of his hands to her thigh, lifting her leg to encircle his hip, and then brushed his body against hers, slowly.

"Aemond…" She breathed softly against his neck, feeling the sensations it caused her.

"Do you feel that? It's what you do to me, Lucy," he murmured, nibbling at the top of her ear. "My Lucy…"

He increased the movements, making her moan a little louder, feeling the pressure of his pants against her sensitive spot. She rested her arms on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his body as he incessantly called her name.

"Gods be good…" She pleaded. "Please, Aemond…"

She denied with her head, her eyes closed.

"Say."

He grabbed her face, caressing her cheek, moving his thumb to her lips.

"Say it."

"Yours…" She whispered, opening her eyes. "Make me yours, Aemond."

The prince didn't need to hear it twice. He grabbed the princess by her thighs and lifted her, carrying her to the bed. When he threw her onto the sheets, he got between her legs and pulled out the dagger that was in his belt. Lucille gasped, not having time to understand what was happening. He used the steel to tear the nightgown in half, revealing her body to him.

She shivered as the night breeze caressed her naked body, being watched by Aemond's gaze. The one-eyed prince slid his hand over her belly, moving up to reach the middle of her breasts. He teased her, taking his time to finally touch where she desired. Then he squeezed one of her breasts and brought his mouth to the other, giving it the attention it deserved.

"Mm… Ah!" She moaned, feeling his tongue tease her hardened nipple. She could feel something hard between Aemond's legs as he leaned over her. "Aemond… It's not fair. I'm the only one naked."

"In a hurry, are we?" He teased, trailing his kisses down to her belly as he slid off the bed.

She watched as he stood up, removing the cloak covering his body, revealing the white linen shirt and leather pants. He undid the knots of his shirt and tore it off his body, throwing it to the floor. Then he removed his boots with some impatience, giving attention to his belt next. Lucille nibbled her lip, knowing what would come next.

She observed his chest, not so strong, but defined. The result of years of training. She saw him unfasten his belt and open his pants, pulling them down to finally be free. Lucille's breath caught in her throat as she glanced down at the prince's legs, widening her eyes in the process. She didn't know how other men were, but definitely, Aemond should be considered… Well-endowed.

"Like what you see?" He taunted, returning to the bed.

She averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn. No, she thought, it's not the behavior of a dragon. She turned her eyes back to him, meeting the lilac gaze burning with desire, while his jewel seemed to glimmer more than ever.

"Yes." She swallowed her words. "And you, do you like what you see, uncle?"

His response came when Aemond grabbed her hip, pulling her towards him. He lifted her legs, kissing her ankle. "I should warn you of the reason I made you so… satisfied, earlier." He teased, stroking her legs, descending to her thighs. "I don't intend to be gentle."

Lucille gasped, staring at him.

"I've imagined this moment for many years…" He teased. "At times, I imagined my hand around your neck, squeezing the air out of your lungs just to see you beg."

She said nothing.

"Other times, I pictured you kneeling, begging for my forgiveness…"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, uncle…"

Aemond chuckled. He then spread his legs, pulling Lucille closer, brushing against their intimacies. The princess gasped, clutching the sheets beside her, propping herself up on her forearms. "Don't feel sorry, niece. I'm not done yet."

He held the base of his member, rubbing it against her intimacy. Lucille gasped, feeling the heat of the contact. Gods. There was no turning back, she realized. "Aemond…"

"This will hurt… A little." He mocked, kneeling. One of his hands held the back of her knee, spreading her further. "But don't worry, sweet Lucy… It doesn't compare to the pain of losing an eye."

Lucille gasped, and the next moment, she felt the pressure of Aemond's member pushing into her entrance. She stifled a scream, feeling a burning sensation. "Calm down, it'll pass soon." He whispered. His other hand reached her clit, making continuous movements. "You'll feel very good."

"Aemond… It hurts…" She gasped. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

He then stopped, only stimulating her. He kissed her breasts, indulging in them once again. Lucille breathed heavily, feeling good again. "My sweet, sweet Lucy…"

He stimulated her until she felt again the wave of pleasure that had hit her before, and then advanced, taking her completely. Lucille Velaryon was his. Only his.

"Do you want to know what I also imagined? What I dreamed?" He asked in her ear, grabbing her hips and moving slowly, feeling her tighten around him.

"What?" She said.

"You moaning my name…" He whispered. "Scratching my back… Saying you were mine… While I fucked you mercilessly."

She gasped, feeling him move faster.

"I imagined this so many times… I fucked you in my bed… On the dining table… On that damn Iron Throne… And even on my dragon's back." One of Aemond's hands slid up to her breast, pinching her nipple. "I made you scream with pleasure so that all of Westeros could know that you were mine."

"Aemond…" She gasped, pulling the prince's neck into a kiss. He reciprocated, groaning in the process and kissing her aggressively. Their tongues danced in their mouths, and nothing seemed to matter more than that moment of pleasure.

Aemond's movements became intense, aggressive. The princess gasped between kisses, struggling not to moan so loudly that her brother would wake up or someone would knock on her door. He held her hips tightly as he took her, and Lucille was sure she would wake up with bruises, but that didn't matter now.

Nothing mattered now.

Their lips parted, and he rested his forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact. Their mouths remained slightly open, breathing heavily, uttering obscenities. "Mine, mine…" Aemond growled. He took one of his hands to her neck, applying some pressure while still thrusting into her. "There's no turning back, Lucille."

"I-I know…" She whimpered, feeling pleasure rise through her belly. God, she accepted everything.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He snarled, burying his face in her neck. His grip intensified, and he continued until he heard her scream his name, trembling her body and her legs around him. He didn't think twice before holding her waist firmly and releasing inside her. He felt Lucille's insides contract in spasms, pulling him. "You take me so well."

"Aemond…" She murmured, closing her eyes from exhaustion, oblivious to anything else.

Aemond smiled, proud. He watched her sweaty body, illuminated by the moonlight, with her chest rising and falling from the recent effort. He observed the dark curls scattered over the sheet, the red cheeks, and the lashes sprinkled with tears of pleasure. A true mess. A mess he caused. And Aemond Targaryen loved chaos.

A sadistic satisfaction crossed his mind when he imagined his relatives' expressions when they found out what had happened. When they had to accept the fact that Lucille Velaryon was his. When they had to see her become his lady and the mother of his child.

His. His. His.

"Aemond…" She whispered, calling him.

"I'm here." He murmured, lying beside her. His finger caressed her lips. "I'll always be."

An eye for a dragon. A virtue for another. Lucille Velaryon was his, forever.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond #hotd #romance #mature #hotd aemond #fanfic #oneshot #ewan mitchell #aemond fanfiction #dark aemond targaryen #smut #aemond smut #house of the dragon #aemond x oc #aemond x lucerys #aemond x fem!reader

[ahamkara-apologist]

please hear me out. sagira comes back. and everyone comes together at the end of the story/raid to fuck up the Witness. and we get to see Osiris back to his peak as he unleashes hell with Saint

I appreciate how even tumblr agrees so much with bringing Sagira back that it sent your og ask (the one I'm answering rn) three times and your follow-up twice lmfao

But yeah if Cayde, (aka the guy whose death progressed the plot of the story more than he ever did when he was alive*) gets to come back, then I feel like Sagira should as well. I'm hesitant to think that we'll see her reuniting with Osiris- because I don't know if Osiris is gonna be in Final Shape when he was already in Lightfall- but I do really think that it's kinda a fucking shame that we never really got to see the full extent of Osiris's powers, given the fact that he was one of (if not the most) powerful Guardian who ever lived. Sure, we see his reflections and him popping a super in Curse of Osiris, but that's not even close to the shit he did in the lorebooks that I'd kill to see. And tbh, I'd love to see them reunite, reconcilliate over what happened, and then maybe have Osiris realize post-channeling her Light again that he really has found closure with losing it, sort of like driving past your childhood home and realizing that you've moved on for good. I also want Sagira herself to see that Osiris is okay, and that he's become more mellowed out (a teeny bit) now that he's living with Saint, allowed to do research on Strand, and has found fufillment in his job teaching Guardians on how to use it. They've been pair bonded for hundreds of years- thousands if you take into account the time distortion of the Infinate Forest- so it would be a massive wasted opportunity to not have Sagira as one of our guides, and for her to acknowledge how Osiris has grown without her. I think she'd be happy for him, even if the road to get there was hard and bittersweet.

As for the idea of bringing her back for good- it's kind of a mixed bag? I don't think that Cayde is gonna be undeaded at the end of Final Shape, so it probably wouldn't be the same for Sagira, and the arguments that people have about it undoing the whole purpose of their deaths certainly can apply there. (I also think that if Sagira was to ever be returned, it should be via the Young Wolf, Ikora, and Saint teaming up with the Sundial to do it once Mercury was returned, rather than through the Traveler itself.) But on the other hand, I think that Sagira differs slightly from Cayde in that bringing her back doesn't really undermine the impact that her absense had. For one, Cayde's death was a very fitting character beat for him; he always had a sad streak, buried grief from all he'd lost, so death wasn't something that was too jarring or terrible for him because he had lost loved ones presumably waiting for him on the other side (ex: his line 'I'm coming home, Ace'). It was also a fitting death, going out in a blaze of guns and glory, which I suspect is how he expected to die for a good long while- maybe even wanted. And his death was also a catalyst for a long chain of very undoable things to happen, the most prominent being the rise of Crow, and how he was shaped by Cayde's legacy. There is no going back from Cayde's death because of the sheer SIZE of the ripples it made.

(Personally, I think that Cayde being a ghost stuck in the Traveler Dimension doesn't exactly negate this at all, because if he's stuck in the dimension of what once-was in the Traveler, that still means Crow is needed to take his place as Hunter Vanguard- and there's a lot of potential there for Crow to meet him, come to peace with what Uldren did, and to gain the tutoring he needs in order to rise to that position. Cayde can pass on the mantle, endorse Crow to Ikora and Zavala so they don't feel guilty at giving his position to his once-murderer, and then his prescence in FS would be that last nick of closure needed to put him to rest. Which I think that he not only needs, but also wants.)

Sagira's death, on the other hand, was extremely in-character...and also extremely abrupt, and way more focused to a singular character- Osiris. It felt right that someone as stubborn and fiery and fiercely protective would have sacrificed herself to save him, and it was what allowed Savathun to posess him, but in terms of the death and the more widespread impact? Her death was abrupt, and the damage done by Savathun was reversable. Osiris himself was the one who suffered the most from her death (and Saint too, by virtue of being close to Osiris), but I'd argue that her death and its relation to him was less an earthquake chaining into a tsunami and closer to what Mara felt when Uldren died and was revived as Crow- a slap of cold water to the face. Osiris was stubborn, arrogant, entirely determined to save the whole universe by himself- and then his own actions lead to Sagira needing to sacrifice herself to save him, and he was suddenly forced to sit the fuck down and confront the sheer impossibility of his situation. He's mortal now. He's mortal, and he's vulnerable, and is now reliant on other people- so much so that it was Saint and Misraaks who saved his life, and barely. Before, he could just steamroll past all his limits and concerns- and he did- but now there are no second chances, and finally can see what that arrogance and high standards cost him. Sagira dying forced him not only to slow down, but also that he is no longer alone, and can rely on those he loves to solve the problems he used to try to take on by himself-problems far too big for only one man. It taught him how to process grief, and how to appreciate life instead of being so focused on the future that everything sped him by. And it taught him that not only was he no longer the exiled heretic warlock who did everything alone because he HAD to, but that he had a purpose beyond being a Guardian, and people other than Saint who valued and trusted him- people that he could trust in return.

Her death was the harshest lesson he'd ever been taught. Her death changed him. And that isn't something that can be undone, even if she returns and he becomes a full Lightbearer again. Truely, if she returns, it wouldn't have been for naught, because now Osiris has seen what happens when he Icarus dashes flies too close to the sun. It would just be an upgrade to the Osiris we have now, and might even soften him up further. Maybe. From super-hardass to hardass to medium-hardass, I suppose.

(And I really wanna see Ghost and her reunite, aaa. AND I want to see her meet Glint!! Just imagine the teasing that could happen if she met Glint)

Besides- Sagira is the ghost of the Phoenix. It would be fitting for her to return, and to potentially rise again. It wouldn't make sense for any ghost, but it would with her.

*Before anyone gets the wrong idea, I'm adding on a side note here that I don't think Cayde's prescence in Destiny pre-Forsaken was worthless, because it wasn't. He was a very beloved side character, and he did have his place in helping along other major storybeats, but it was BECAUSE he was the hypeman on the sides that his death became a major plot progressor. All that buildup of him being a steady constant was what cumulated in him dying being such a big bang. Sagira did the same, but the impact of her death was focused on Osiris rather than the Young Wolf

#destiny 2 #osiris #sagira #osiris destiny #anon #reply #like dont get me wrong i do like relevant chsracter death #(for all i joke about athrys coming back i still think it would be better if shes dead) #but for sagira i think the storybeat would work

[alice3876]

Take My Hand (And Don't Let Go) • Yoon Keeho

Wc: 1.3k

Yoon Keeho x fem reader

Summary: You ask Keeho to stay back, determined to confess your feelings to him… and things don't go as planned. At all.

Warnings: A messy as fuck love confession, Keeho teases reader a bit (of course he does), reader gets upset and cries, mentions of anxiety and low self-confidence, pretty sure Keeho is kind of/very ooc, also not proofread because I couldn't be bothered

Notes: I finally managed to write something that isn't too cringe TwT… I hope. First work I'm posting here on Tumblr. Honestly don't know which setting this is. School? Most likely. Other? Maybe. Who knows. I certainly don't lol enjoy

Another note: This man is just the definition of perfection and I adore him so yeah, I was writing a Felix story and promptly decided to switch to this because I got a sudden and rare bought of inspiration (woo!) It's actually probably shitty but anyways lots of things go on in my mind that you wouldn't believe 😀👍

"Keeho?" you asked softly, walking up behind him and gently grabbing onto his sleeve. "Can we talk?"

"... yeah, sure, what's up?" he replied, turning to you.

"Um…" you hesitantly looked around at his friends. You didn't want to ask them to go away and come off as rude, but Keeho got the message. 

"Go on ahead guys, I'll catch up to you later."

They showed various degrees of agreement and walked off, bidding you goodbye. Keeho turned back to you, a frown on his face.

"Keeho-"

"What's going on, Y/n? You've been avoiding me for weeks! What happened?" he blurted out once the two of you were alone.

You looked down, nervously fiddling with the rings on your slender fingers, teeth sinking into your plush lip as a result of the wave of anxiety washing over you.

"I– [...] I'm sorry, this was a mistake," you stuttered, briskly turning and walking rushing away from him. 

'I can't do this,' you thought to yourself, mind whirling in a thousand directions at once. You thought you had come to terms with your feelings and wanting to express them, but you didn't have the strength to face him.

"Y/n, don't you dare walk away without talking to me." the stern voice snapped you out of your daze. His long fingers that you spent so much time fiddling around with wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

'Fuck.' Keeho's stride was longer than you had realized. Or, more likely, it was longer than you had wanted to notice. You had hoped you could outrun him, but that was now clearly out of the question.

'I'm fucked. Somebody please kill me now.'

"Talk to me. … please…"

You abruptly looked up at his face, caught off guard by the vulnerable lilt in his voice. He looked like his heart might break into pieces if you walked away now.

'Of course his heart won't break, you idiot. Snap out of your delusions!' And yet… 'No!'

"What do you want me to say, Kee?" you asked, cursing yourself for letting your voice break. "... I've been avoiding you because I like you and I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to act around you and I practically break down when you show affection towards me, even though I know very well it's all platonic, so I figured it was better for my heart and sanity if I stayed away from you... you got your answer. Now—can you please let me go—?" you ranted out, voice breaking at the end and tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. 

He looked at you, bemused, his eyes wide and his lips parted just slightly in surprise. 

"You… you like me?" he repeated incredulously, eyes still fixed on your irritated ones.

"Is that all you got from that? Really?" you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

"No, but… you like me? Really? You're serious?" he asked again, voice dropping a bit.

"No, I don't like you, I love you! Now can you get that through your thick skull, for fuck's sake?!" you snapped.

He snorted. "That's a special way to confess your love. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Wow. You know what, this is a waste of time. I'm leaving." you shook your wrist from his grip and stalked off, trying your best to fight off the tears now rolling down your cheeks.

"W- no, wait, wait!" he called after you, still laughing. "I'm sorry, it's just- you're cute when you get mad." He pulled you back again and softened at the sight of you fighting so hard to keep yourself together. He gently brushed away your tears, looking at you so fondly you could melt right there before his eyes. You still didn't think he liked you, but there was so much warmth and affection in his eyes at the moment, it couldn't hurt to hope just a bit… right?

His lips curled into a soft smile as he took your small hands in his big ones and intertwined your fingers. "I like you too, Y/n. Though I really wish you would've just told me instead of avoiding me like I might give you an infectious decease if you get too close." You opened your mouth to reply, but he squeezed your hands and kept talking. "It's alright. I know you struggle a lot with your self-confidence and your anxiety. But know that I'm always here for you, alright? You can tell me anything. I care about you so much more than you realize." He let go of your hands, but before you could worry—what can I say? Anxiety is intense—he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you in for a hug. He held you like you were the most precious thing in the world and you might break apart if he let go—which you just might, if we're being honest here. 

You tightly wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible. It wasn't too often that Keeho showed his affection in this way—he was more the type to tease you—so you hung onto him like your life depended on it, relishing in the warmth of his strong body against yours. Physical touch was your love language, so this was probably the most effective way to comfort you—and win your affection.

"So…" you voiced and he slightly pulled away to look at you. "Does this mean we're dating?" you asked slyly, feeling a little less vulnerable and a little more like your usual self, which made Keeho laugh.

"If that's what you want, then yes. I'll be your boyfriend, love." You swore you actually melted into a puddle at this point. The hug was so warm and comforting. Being his girlfriend? A dream, really. But being called love? That was too much for your poor heart. In your mind, it was the sweetest nickname to ever exist, and he used it for you? Wow. You just might implode or self-combust at this point.

Keeho kept his eyes on you, concerned by your long silence. "Y/n?... Areee you alright?" he asked hesitantly, snapping you out of your simp thoughts.

"Huh?! Yes! I'm great!" It took you a minute to realize that you never answered him. "Yes, I want to be your girlfriend. I've been hoping for this for so long." Another pause of realization. "You chastised me for not telling you how I felt about you, but you didn't do it either." You frowned at him and he gave you a cheeky smile. 

"Well-" He didn't even make an effort to continue his sentence. 

"Jerk. I was stressed out for-" 

Keeho cut you off with a soft press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, leaving you a flustered, fumbling mess. 

"I- wha- that was low." You narrowed your eyes at him, face red, and he laughed again. 

"You think too much," he said simply, booping you on the nose. "Besides, I can kiss you all I want now, since we're together." He raised an eyebrow and you choked.

"What are you insinuating?"

"What are you thinking, love? Didn't know you had such a dirty mind. Oh wait, actually-" You cut him off with a smack on the arm and an insulted scoff while he practically roared with laughter now.

You scowled. "Remind me why I like you?"

"I don't know. Why do you like me?" He grinned your way. "Come on, we should get going. The guys are waiting for us."

"They're waiting for you," you pointed out.

"Well, too bad. They're going to have to settle for us from now on. Right, love?" He looked at you lovingly, a soft smile playing on his lips. That smile was mirrored on you own face as you looked down, trying to hide how giddy you looked and felt. "Here." You looked up, confused, to see him holding out his hand to you. "Well? Take my hand and don't let go, alright?"

You smiled. "Alright."

#keeho #p1h keeho #yoon keeho #p1harmony #piwon #keeho x reader #p1h #keeho fluff #fluff #a bit of angst if you squint? #keeho icons #keeho p1h #keeho imagines

[goferwashere]

Bull & Don’s Night Out (Punch-Out!! Monster Hunter AU Oneshot)

WHATTTTTTT WE’RE SO BACK? LETS FUCKING GOOOOO

2.4K words and the idea is finally out in the world. I can rest now

I actually like tumblr’s format and options for coloured text so I think I’ll stay posting stories on here

@oohbuggypie DINNER’S HERE!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT POOKIE (THAT GOES FOR THE REST OF YOU TOO!)

——————

Being turned down by all of the members of the world circuit was a bit embarrassing for Don. There was a WVBA hosted event for world circuit members only; plenty of investors and other boxers would be there, and Don had wanted to go as someone’s plus one.

Unfortunately, it seems that everyone had their own plans already. Aran didn’t pick up his call and always avoided him like the plague so he already knew the answer to that. Soda turned him down outright, and tried to punch Don when he tried to say anything more. Super Macho Man was already taking his ‘boyfriend’ to the event, and decided not to press further. Sandman was a no. He wasn’t even going to try with him.

But, Don had someone he knew he could convince.

Bull was just trying to enjoy a nice cup of tea. He sat at a boba shop far off in the outskirts of the city, and enjoyed the peace and quiet that it offered. He loved the way they prepared all of their drinks, and came there quite often, though nobody knew it.

Something of an odd sight, a pastel shop decked out in pink and white— and you see a hulking 6’2 boxer walking through the door. Bull was quiet though, and that’s all that mattered to the employees.

He swirled his drink around with his straw, looking at the cat pattern adoring the lid. He always found it cute. This was his private spot, and was glad that he wouldn’t be bothered here.

“Bald Bull! I’ve been looking all over for you, you sneaky man.”

The door flung open, and in sauntered Don Flamenco. All heads turned to him as he walked across the shop and sat down at Bull’s table. Bull sat up straight, now embarrassed that all eyes were on him. Don seemed to enjoy it though, judging by the smirk on his face. Bull wanted to say something, but he felt his throat getting a bit dry. So he just stared at him. Don pretended not to notice the uncomfortable silence and pressed on.

“I’m curious, what is it that you’re drinking? It looks delicious.”

“What do you want, Don?”

Bull knew that Don didn’t do small talk. He pushed his drink to the middle of the table and turned to get out of the booth. Don put a hand on his, and he stopped.

“Oh, please don’t go.” He traced a finger down until he reached his fingertips. “I should know by now that I can’t fool you.”

Bull’s cheeks were heating up slightly, and he gritted his teeth before begrudgingly sitting back down. Don’s smile widened and took a sip of Bull’s drink.

“Hm. Peach.”

He wasn’t getting that drink back. Sighing, he waved Don on to continue.

“Ah yes. Are you planning on going to that WVBA event?” He said, motioning with the drink. Bull rolled his eyes.

“No.”

Don pouted. “Oh, Bull… Can’t you do me a favor? Just this once?” He tried to get handsy again, but Bull pulled back, placing his arms firmly in his lap.

“I don’t like being in crowded places.”

Don sighed, looking out into the street. “I don’t know where you came from Bull— but here, if you want to keep your job you need to have connections.”

Bull began to grind his teeth together, fiddling with his drink receipt in his pocket.

“I know that.”

“So why don’t you take me? We can go together. I can do the talking for both of us, yes?” He extended a hand to Bull. He had to admit, it was a bit of a tempting offer. Don had always been charismatic. If it hadn’t been for him, he wouldn’t have met any of the other monsters. They were… certainly something, but it was better than being alone. Anything was better than being alone.

But such a big place, with so many people. All of them talking about money and investing, and so much that he knew nothing about. Even if Don were there, it would be too much for him.

“Not this time.”

Bull pushed himself out of the booth, and began to put on his coat.

“Bull, don’t do this.” Don clicked his tongue, and Bull knew what that meant. He only had a small window to get out of Don’s vocal range. He picked up everything and shoved on his thick hat, but it was pointless.

“Sit back down Bull.”

Bull could feel the comfort and warmth spreading throughout his body. He prepared to drift off and wake up when it was all over, but instead he just sat. He was still fully awake.

“Don. Please.”

Don’s eyes widened a bit, before he grimaced and turned his eyes down to his drink. He was silent for an uncomfortably long time. Bull was about to speak up again, but Don was quicker.

“Just let me go with you, Bull. It doesn’t need to be like this.” He didn’t raise his eyes to meet Bull. Bull was starting to get angry.

“I said that I don’t want to go.” He tried to get up again, but to no avail. “I’m not-” Don held out a hand to stop him.

“We’re not talking about this anymore.”

Bull felt his lips close, and he could no longer open them. He let out heavy puffs, mentally struggling as he tried to command his body to do something.

“You are inviting me to this event. You’ll be with me for the day, and you’ll do everything I say. Got it?”

There it was. Bull felt his consciousness fading into the back of his mind as his body nodded slowly. The last image in his mind was Don’s face, with a hint of guilt plastered across it.

——————

The next night, Don pulled up outside of Bull’s house. He got out of his car to go get him. He knocked on the door, and Bull came out wearing a suit and bow tie.

Don had to admit that he was a bit taken aback. This must’ve been a new suit, because he’d never worn anything like this before. He reeled his head back a bit as Bull stepped out onto the porch, and Don jumped at the chance to inspect him. He dusted him off, fixed his collar, straightening his bow tie, and all manner of other small things, but he looked dashing. Bull should wear suits more often.

Don was a bit more casual in his outfit, a simple button-down with dress pants and a suit vest. He was a bit jealous now, feeling that Bull might actually look nicer than he did. He scoffed and led him back to the car. He contemplated for a moment, before handing the keys to Bull.

“Since you look like such a gentleman today, why don’t you drive us there?”

Bull blankly followed the order, starting the car as Don got in the passenger seat. He put his feet up on the dash, and Bull mumbled something about it not being safe. Don whipped his head over to him, but he still seemed under his command. Even in this state, he managed to be concerned about something. He slowly put his feet back down, and kept a tense eye on him the rest of the way there.

Bull got them there without issue, and after parking the car he rounded to the passenger side to let Don out. Taking his hand, Don stepped out and his chest puffed up when they approached the doors. They checked the invitation and just like that they’d made it.

Don had to stop his jaw from dropping once they’d entered. This banquet hall was massive, and incredibly fancy. His mind immediately went to all of the other boxers, and how they’d be dressed up for the occasion. He could never see any of them in formal attire.

Dull conversation after dull conversation was had between Don and many of the other people at the hall. ‘Networking was necessary’, he kept saying to himself. But eventually food was brought out, and he was more than ready to eat.

“Bull, grab me a plate will you?” He waved Bull away as he found a table for the two of them. He returned swiftly, with all manner of delectable sweets on the plate. He placed it in front of him, and noticed that Bull had snuck a few foods that he would’ve liked on the plate. Again, this perturbed Don, but Bull still seemed docile. He’d only gotten Don a plate, and nothing for himself. He sighed and pushed the plate between them.

“Take what you want.”

Bull lunged at the food like an animal, eating with his hands. Don pushed himself back into his chair, and whispered harshly.

“Use cutlery! Eat slowly!” He couldn’t believe that Bull needed to be told this. Bull stopped, wiping his hands on his napkin before again doing as he was told. After making sure that Bull was behaving himself, he picked up a fork and began to peck away at the various fruits and other things that Bull had stacked on the plate.

Then out of nowhere, Bull reached across the table with his napkin. Don leaned back cautiously, but his shoulder was being gripped by him. Not hard, but enough to stop him from moving. Don’s heart started to beat faster, but Bull just wiped at the corner of his mouth. He’d removed a chocolate stain, staring at Don for another moment before going back to eating. Don reached up slowly, touching where Bull had wiped his napkin.

He hadn’t told him to do that.

Why did he do that?

“Bull.”

He looked up, saying nothing.

His eyes weren’t focused. They looked normal enough, but upon inspecting them— you couldn’t fake that look.

“Nevermind. Carry on.”

~

“Nevermind. Carry on.” Don’s voice boomed, reverberating through whatever… this place was. Bull covered his ears, and realized that he’d transformed back into his original form. He freaked out, looking around, believing he’d just exposed himself to a café full of people.

But the only thing around him were large stone walls. He only needed a second to instantly recognize where he was.

It was a maze.

He looked up, and saw a foggy, murky blue color clouding the sky above. Below his hooves he felt gravel. He snorted, before looking ahead and seeing a path being illuminated ahead. There was only one way for Bull to go, so he followed.

~

Bull sat quietly, watching Don eat. They were having something of a staring contest, but unfortunately Don couldn’t compare to the eyes of a glazed over zombie. Don was getting antsy. He finished the last of the food, and told Bull to go dispose of it.

~

“Go throw this out.” Bull winced at the loud command. He was starting to get an idea of where he was. The maze was large, but with a clear path being illuminated to him, he could travel much faster. He knew that he was reaching the end of the maze.

He could hear vaguely what was going on outside, where his body was following Don’s orders. He was going to make Don pay for making him do this.

~

After returning, Bull sat down quietly. Don looked around, before standing and wrapping his arms around one of Bull’s. He led him to the bathroom, and took him into the big stall— after checking that the bathroom was empty, obviously.

He looked a bit frazzled from the event so far, with his suit and bow tie starting to slip out of their perfect position. He also seemed a bit sweaty. Don stared at him for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh and grabbing a bit of toilet paper and dabbing at the sweat to clean him up. He then adjusted his tie and suit, since he couldn’t do it himself.

“There. Good as new.” Don said, stepping back to admire his work. He looked him up and down, but something caught his eye.

Bull’s hand was twitching.

Don’s brow furrowed, and he reached out for it. He held it in his and watched as it continued to do so. Bull had been acting strange all night. What was going on?

~

Bull could see it now. A straight shot to the exit. He was running for it, and now he was going to get Don back.

~

Don clicked his tongue, and reached up with his free hand to touch Bull’s face. He inspected it, adjusting his jaw to get different angles. Bull seemed fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

~

Then Bull was back. He sucked in a breath and took in surroundings. He was in a bathroom stall, and looked down to see Don holding his face tenderly, with their hands interlocked.

He pulled back, and Don’s eyes widened.

“Bull?”

Don let out a sputtered gasp as Bull slammed him into the wall, holding him by the collar. Bull was seeing red now.

“You.”

Don put his hands up, frantically trying to break Bull’s grip.

“Please, Bull, it wasn’t like that— agh!” Bull put an arm against his windpipe, and Don’s eyes widened even more. He croaked, trying to get any words out, but Bull wasn’t going to let him. He watched as Don’s eyes began to flutter, and his breathing started to get shallow.

Right before Don was about to pass out, Bull dropped him on the tile floor. Don scrambled back and pressed himself against the wall, taking in deep breaths.

Bull stood over him, and he’d never seen Don so scared. His mouth moved, but nothing came out aside from quiet wheezing.

Bull stepped back, and he saw Don’s head loll to the side. He was trying to say something, but Bull wasn’t going to hear it.

“You’re a monster.”

Don let out a wry chuckle, hiding his expression from Bull.

“T-takes one.. to know one.”

Bull looked at the state he’d left the matador in. Guilt was beginning to creep in the back of his mind, but he shook it off. He was just trying to hurt Bull’s feelings.

He unlocked the door to the stall, and walked out of the bathroom. He thought he could hear something else from Don, but he didn’t want to hear anything else that snake might say.

~

“Wait… Bull.. C-come back…” Don wheezed. “I’m.. I’m sorry.. please don’t— leave me here…” He took in a sharp breath, pushing himself off the wall onto the floor. But Bull was already gone. He didn’t mean what he said. He just—

Just what?

You just wanted to hurt him. You deserve this.

Don’s inner monologue taunted him as he lay there, disheveled and out of breath. He didn’t mean it.

But it was too late.

——————

gofer try to write fun and wholesome fiction challenge (impossible)

I HOPE Y’ALL ENJOYED!!! ouuu lordddd this one was so much fun to write so I hope you had just as much fun as I did 😋

#punch out #punch out!! #punch out wii #punch out monster hunter au #don flamenco #bald bull #also yes bull was under Don’s control for a full 24 hours #so no eating until Don told him he could #I didn’t mention it in the story because it didn’t fit anywhere

[mavia-anon]

SBI Whumptober Day 6 - coughing up blood // choking // "just breathe."

This particular prompt is getting a spotlight here because I like it. If you wanna check out everything else I've written for SBI Whumptober so far you can find it on my ao3 here. This is also longer than what I'd usually post on Tumblr so sorry about that

CW: dark SBI, possessive behaviour, vampire Tommy got turned against his will, (but that's not shown, just mentioned)

---

There's a hunger like never before gnawing at Tommy's bones.

He's no stranger to going hungry, he spent most of his childhood being half starved and weak because of it. But even that doesn't compare to the hunger and the pain he feels now.

"Just rest," a gentle voice soothes, a cold hand carding through his hair. "You can eat soon."

Tommy whines pathetically, under the hunger pangs that make his stomach twist, there's an ache in his heart at the sound of the voice. Wilbur's voice, a slightly more coherent part of him, recognises.

He's supposed to trust Wilbur, right? They're friends – brothers almost. He remembers joking about that once, he thinks. It feels like it was a lifetime ago.

But as awareness slowly creeps back into his mind, Tommy remembers more. He had trusted not just Wilbur, but his whole family – Techno and Phil, where are they?

Tommy whines again, some new and unfamiliar part of his mind crying about the loss of… something. The ache in his heart worsens.

His family. Tommy trusted them – had trusted them. He trusted them with so much. With his fears and his vulnerabilities, with his physical wellbeing, with his fucking heart.

Fuck, he even trusted them with Henry. The stupid ratty cow plush that was his only memory of his biological family. And what did he get in return? Backstabbed – no, neckstabbed by Phil the moment he could admit he loved them.

"Wil," Tommy whines. "Wil what did you do t' me?"

"Don't worry about it, moonlight," Wilbur dismisses quickly. "You love us, right?"

Tommy whines again, confused and uncertain. Because he does. He loves them so much it hurts him sometimes but… but love shouldn't hurt like this, should it?

"You fuckin' turned me," Tommy whispers brokenly, the start of tears pooling in his eyes. "I told you I'd never want this."

The hand in his hair tightens painfully, and Tommy whines once more, moving his head to try and shake Wilbur off.

"Sorry, moonlight," the hand retracts completely and Tommy has to bite back a whimper. "Just… don't say things like that, alright?"

Tommy doesn't offer a response, he hardly feels smart enough to argue with Wilbur on a good day, but now, with his head stuffed full of cotton and the hunger overtaking his every thought, it feels almost impossible.

"I'm hungry," Tommy says after a long moment. "Do you think Phil'll make me pancakes again?"

"I don't think so, moonlight," Wilbur says gently.

Tommy frowns. "What's up with you callin' me that?" He mumbles. "Though' I was your sunshine, or whatever."

"You were – you still are," Wilburs hand returns to his hair, sharp nails scratching at his scalp softly. "But you're like us now. Still yourself of course, just. Changed. Moonlight is only a darker reflection of the sun, after all, and now you're ours. I thought it was fitting."

Tommy hums a non answer. Wilbur has always been poetic about shit like that, but Tommy feels too distant to really understand the words properly. It's nice to hear him talk though, his voice has always been calming.

Tommy breathes deep, content to listen as Wilbur continues rambling on. He can't sleep, as much as he wants to, the hunger is constant. But he’s fine, for now, he's certainly lived through worse.

Like being bitten and turned by a vampire.

The thought comes unbidden and Tommy frowns to himself, but the sound of a door opening steals his attention quickly enough that he doesn't have to think too deeply yet.

He feels the presence of two people enter the nest, an unfamiliar bond between them that feels like family. And with them, the sweetest smell reaches Tommys nose.

He sits up instantly, his hunger growing with a vengeance at the smell. Phil and Techno stand in the doorway, wide smiles on their faces and a fondness in their eyes Tommy has never seen before.

“Hey mate,” Phil greets him with a soft voice and Tommy makes an odd noise in return, something eerily close to a bird call. “Wow, you're deep in your instincts, huh? Makes this next part easier I guess.”

Both Wilbur and Techno chuckle at that and Tommy whines lowly. The sweet smell is only getting stronger, and Tommy is just so hungry. Whatever his sire is hiding, Tommy needs to have it – to sink his teeth into it and–

“Come here, Toms, I’ve got your food right here.”

Tommy doesnt waste a moment, scrambling out of Wilburs arms and off the bed, rushing headfirst into Phil, an unpracticed rumbling purr spilling from his lips.

That's… that's weird, right? Tommy blinks, awareness seeping back in for a moment. He shouldn't– something is wrong.

“Shh,” Phil hushes. “It’s okay, I'm here, just focus on me. You want to eat, don't you?”

A haze he hadn't noticed before falls over Tommys mind. It feels safe, warm. Phil purrs at him and somehow he knows it means his sire is content. Tommy lets himself sink into the haze.

“Good,” Phil praises. “Techno, if you would?”

Tommy blinks, and suddenly something is at his lips and the sweet smell becomes overwhelming.

He bites down on the thing in front of him instinctively, and distantly he hears Techno hiss in pain off to the side. Tommy hardly cares though, there's something thick and rich on his tongue, almost as sweet as the smell still in the air but almost tainted somehow.

Tommy feels himself being moved and gently the finger – Technos finger, he realises – is pried from his mouth. Before he can even whine in complaint, there's something else pushed in front of him. It's the source of the sweet smell, Tommys stomach cramps and he bites down without another thought.

The taste on his tongue is heavenly, as thick and rich as before, but it's not spoiled this time. It tastes fresh and it feels hot as it spills down his throat and warms his stomach. Tommy drinks and drinks and drinks until he is full, his hunger finally sated.

He pulls back, the haze over his mind is gone and he blinks the blurriness from his eyes–

To find a body cradled in his lap.

Tommy screams and scrambles backwards, staring wide eyed at the pale and bloodied person in front of him.

They're not moving, not breathing– they're– 

Tommy brings a hand up to his lips. They're wet and sticky to the touch and as Tommy looks at his fingertips, he sees a deep red blood staining them.

Oh god.

His stomach lurches, his breath quickens.

Oh fucking god. There’s no way– he wouldn't have–

Tommy gags, rolling onto his side as he focuses on the sick feeling. There's still blood in his mouth and Tommy's breath hitches with the force of his sudden sobs.

He's choking. He can't breathe, he can't remember how to anymore.

His guts twist.

Oh god.

“Hey, it's alright, I'm right here, look at me.”

That's Techno. That's Technoblade talking to him in his deep rumbling voice. Warm hands grab him, but it's okay. It's okay, it's just Technoblade, right? Technoblade would never hurt him, he promised. 

“Just breathe,” Techno soothes. “You're gonna be okay, I promise.”

Tommy settles at that. Techno… Techno would never break a promise.

He promised to protect Tommy, and he had. He promised to love Tommy, and despite everything he does.

They all promised not to turn him.

But… but if Techno promises everything will be okay.

Tommy retches again. There's still blood in his mouth, staining every inch of him. He's scared, he's so, so tired.

The haze creeps over his mind, and Tommy willingly sinks into it.

His coven will keep him safe. They love him, afterall. Even if they hurt him.

#sbi whumptober #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #dark sbi #sbi fanfiction #angst #vampire sbi

[fangirls-fanfiction]

The Next Chapter is finally here! Sorry it’s taken so long, I literally could not think of a title and I procrastinated with posting it on here because I have to edit it all over again when I write it on tumblr 😅

Anyways, enjoy!

✨ ✨ ✨

Chapter 13

———

♦️𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝙰 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝?♠️

The Devil blinked awake after one of the best sleeps she had had in a long time. Though in slightly different positions, both her and Queen Dice were still cuddling and hugging as they were the night before.

She never expected Dice to stay. She thought for sure that she'd leave halfway through the night. Even so, she was glad she stayed. Dice proved once again that she knew just what to do in a situation. She always knew what to do. That's what Lucifer loved about her. That and her smile. And those shimmering green eyes. She could stare into those eyes for hours and never get tired of them.

Shifting to a slightly more comfortable position, the Devil sat up so she could get a better look at Dice. Even sleeping, the woman looked perfect. Even with her face free of any makeup and her hair messy as all Hell, she was flawless. The Devil wanted to kiss every spot on that beautiful face of hers.

But not until she woke up, she needed Dice's permission.

Still sound asleep, Queen Dice snored softly, Old scratch still admiring the beautiful woman. It was still difficult for her to grasp how she managed to score such a gorgeous girlfriend like Queen Dice. One with a lot of wit and certainly one of the main reasons why her Casino was still up and running. It was the woman's idea after all.

Lying down once again, she tucked her head gently in the crook of Dice's neck, listening to her even breathing and slow heart beat. The serine sounds could have put her to sleep once more, had there not been a knock at the door.

The Devil sat up quickly, Queen Dice groggily sitting up as well. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, yawning, as she doesn't usually wake up so early.

"Boss? Are you awake? I brought you breakfast." Henchwoman called through the door, knocking again.

The purple imp knew the Devil's schedule all too well. Even when the demon woke up, to when she went to bed that night. It was almost impressive, definitely appreciated, and a little annoying.

"Boss?" Henchwoman asked again.

Panicking, the Devil looked to Dice, the woman still trying to wake up and function properly.

"Sorry, dear." The Devil whispered, throwing the covers over Dice.

The action surprised Dice, throwing her down. She said a few things, muffled by her groggy and hoarse voice from just waking up, and the covers.

"Shhh!" The Devil hissed before turning to the door. "Yes, come in, Henchwoman."

After the door creaked open, Henchwoman brought the Devil's breakfast to her along with her morning coffee. Henchwoman smiled thoughtfully upon seeing her Boss so excited for her breakfast. For Hellfire's sake, the demon was already digging into her pancakes before Henchwoman had sat the plate down on the bed. Setting her morning coffee on the nightstand, Henchwoman kept her warm smile as she waited further instructions.

Though the Devil seemed to be... Distracted. She ate her breakfast so fast, Henchwoman wasn't sure if the demon had even tasted it. She must've been very hungry, Henchwoman thought.

"Thank you, Henchwoman." Old Scratch finished off her breakfast, shooing Henchwoman away.

"Uhm... Boss? You don't want any updates on the souls in the underworld?"

"You can tell me later."

"Nothing about the Casino's success?"

"That too."

"You ain't even gonna ask me how I am...?" The volume of Henchwoman's voice went low, just enough for the Devil's sharp ears to catch it.

"How are you, Henchwoman?" The Devil smiled warmly, though the tone of her voice only seemed to be pacifying the purple imp.

"Fine..." Henchwoman mumbled, her gaze falling to the floor as her spirits dampened.

"Good! Great!" The Devil shooed her away again. "Why don't you go see if Stickler needs help with anything."

"Sure thing, Boss." Henchwoman forced the smallest smile in a lifetime and walked off, shutting the door behind her.

Once she was gone, Queen Dice sat up from under the covers and smacked the Devil on the back of her head.

"YOUCH!! What did I do?!" Lucifer rubbed the back of her head.

"That was for being rude and uncaring to Henchwoman." Queen Dice snapped before giving her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. "And that's for keeping your secret." She smacked the Devil's face. "And that's for not saving any of your breakfast for me."

"Will you stop hitting me?" The Devil massaged her cheek where Dice smacked her.

"Sorry, Dee, but I had to teach you a lesson. Why're you so afraid of Henchwoman finding out anyway?" Dice crossed her arms.

"Because..." Devil sighed. "I... Appreciate... And... I care for Henchwoman... But the dear girl don't know how to keep her mouth shut. Especially around Stickler- And you and I both know that Stickler will tell everyone."

"You don't trust her?"

Those words stung. Of course Devil trusted Henchwoman. Hell, she'd been the only one there for the Devil most of her miserable existence. She'd done nothing but support her and try to keep the Devil happy, even at her worst. Sure, Devil may have been too hard on her at times when she'd screw up. Maybe she should give her another chance.

"Fine, I'll talk to her."

Queen Dice placed a hand at the side of the Devil's face, turning her head towards her. Without warning, she kissed the demon on the lips.

"And that's for agreeing with me."

♦️ ♦️ ♦️

Henchwoman sadly made her way back to the kitchen, but not before she heard hurried footsteps behind her. Turning around, she was surprised to see her Boss trying to catch up with her. She found it peculiar that Old Scratch didn't just use her trident. Though she didn't bring it up, as that would just make the Boss angry with her.

"Henchwoman," The Devil came to a stop, brushing her clothes off and fixing her hair. "First of all, I'm..." Her voice drifted off as she fumbled with her words.

"You're...?" Henchwoman creased her eyebrows.

"It's hard for me to say..." Something seemed to be stopping her from what she wanted to say. "I'm sorry."

"Ok..." Henchwoman decided it'd be best not to frustrate her Boss even more, even if a part of her wanted a wholehearted apology.

"And second of all... Can we go to my office? I'd like to speak in private, if you don't mind."

"D'uh... Sure."

After dropping off the food cart and heading upstairs to her office, Henchwoman was a little less than excited. Whenever the Boss wanted to talk to her in private, it was never a good sign. It usually meant either she or someone else was doing something wrong and the Devil wanted it fixed right away. The problem was, Henchwoman never knew what it was until her Boss noticed it and approached her about it. Getting scolded by the Devil was never an easy task. Though judging by her calm demeanor, this might not be as bad as Henchwoman would think. But she'd learn from years of experience to always be on your toes when dealing with the Devil and her rage.

Once getting to the Casino floor, the Devil lead the way to her office, not uttering a word until the door was clicked shut and locked.

"Now, Henchwoman, what I'm about to tell you does not leave this room. Understand?" Old Scratch said sternly.

"Ok."

"Swear to me that you won't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"SWEAR IT."

"Ok! Ok! I swear I won't tell nobody!"

"Good."

The Devil heaved in a long sigh, closing her eyes as she prepared for what she was about to say. All the while Henchwoman was dreading to hear what her Boss had to say, but was also curious and a bit concerned. Usually when the Devil wanted to speak with her alone, it was a complaint. And she was a lot more brash and short with Henchwoman. Now, she just seemed... Nervous about something.

"Henchwoman... This has been going on for a few days now... And I... I need to address it..."

Oh dear.

"I haven't told you because... Well, multiple reasons, but we'll get into that..."

Here it comes.

"But... Queen Dice and I... We... We're dating..."

Oh.

OH-

"You're... You're what?"

"Dating. Queen Dice and I are dating."

"O— Oh..." Henchwoman's gaze fell to the floor slowly as she seemed to wrap her head around the situation. "Ok... That’s… That’s great!…”

"Henchie? Are you ok?"

Henchwoman's purple eyes shot back up as she smiled widely nodding. It was a pained smile. One forced and agonizing. Though she said nothing more, only keeping the smile on for her Boss.

The Devil knew something was wrong, but she didn't quite know how to describe it. She hadn't the slightest clue why Henchwoman would need to force her smile. Perhaps ahead was angry; the Devil had promised that she would never fall for a mortal again. And once again she broke that promise.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't just ask what was wrong with her companion. It didn't feel right, and even if she did, Henchwoman was so quick to please her that she'd lie on a whim. So she decided to pretend that she hadn't noticed;

"I'm sorry I hadn't told you before... We're trying to keep it a secret... Not that... That I don't trust you it's just..." Lucifer cleared her throat, averting her gaze.

"It's fine Boss, I understand." The imp answered.

"So... You won't mind keeping the secret?"

"Not at all."

"Fantastic! Thank you, Henchwoman!" The Devil sighed. "I'm so glad to get that off my chest... You may return to your duties now, Henchwoman." She waved her off soon enough.

"Right..." Henchwoman turned to go out the door, stopping short before she opened the door. "Hey... Boss?" She turned to face her.

"Henchwoman? Is something wrong?"

"No... No... I was just... Nevermind."

Henchwoman opened the door and quickly exited her Boss' office, clicking the door shut.

Sighing, the Devil turned to her unfinished and barely worked on pile of unsigned contracts. The pile only grew taller and taller every day, she really should get to working on them soon. Soon...

Very soon.

But not right now.

Standing from her seat, Lucifer headed out the door, off to the kitchen to get a morning coffee and see her girlfriend.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️

"Do you think they'll care if we sneak out to make some breakfast?" Cuphead asked, opening the door ajar and looking around to see if the coast was clear.

"I'm sure they won't, the Devil didn't seem to mind yesterday." Mugma'am stuck her head out above her sister's.

After checking to see if they were safe to go, the two of them went off to the kitchen down in Hell to get a quick bite to eat. After that, who knows what. There wasn't much to do in Hell; the deck of cards Dice had given them got boring really fast. Other than that, they didn't know what else to do with their time.

Almost arriving to the kitchen, they heard an extra set of footsteps, making them freeze in place. Though, they soon found it was just Henchwoman.

"Good morning, Henchwoman." Mugma'am offered a smile to the friwnung demon.

"Hey." Henchwoman only seemed to be able to muster so much as a little smile before her frown returned.

"Why're you so down?" Cuphead asked.

"It's... Nothin... Really it's nothin..." Nothing seemed to lift her spirits, she only continued on her way.

"It don't seem like nothin." Cuphead muttered to her sister, Mugma'am shrugging.

Upon coming to the kitchen, the two of them found the Devil and Queen Dice making coffee. Well, Dice was, the Devil was just talking. No doubt she didn't know how to work the coffee maker.

"I know it's a lot, but that's the price to pay for being a business woman." Dice continued their conversation. "But hey, at least you've got an awesome girlfriend to kiss afterwards."

"You're right, you are pretty cool." The Devil winked.

"I know." Queen Dice sat the Devil's '#1 Boss' mug next to her on the table as she walked off with her own. "I'm off to prepare the Casino for the day, I'll see you later." She winked to her Boss. "G'mornin girls." She walked past the sisters in the doorway.

"Morning." The Devil spoke to them as well, a little less enthusiastic than Queen Dice.

"Good Morning Mrs. Devil." Mugma'am sat at an adjacent chair to the demon.

"Hey Devil, is there anything fun to do here in the Underworld?" Cuphead asked.

"What do you mean? Is that deck of cards Dice gave you not good enough for you?"

"There's only so many things to do with a deck of cards before they get boring."

"Fair enough." The Devil sighed. "But unfortunately, unless you want to work, torture souls or go to business meetings; not really." She rolled her ember eyes. "I for one, however, have many hobbies; painting, singing, gambling, torturing, sleeping, collecting assortments of shiny objects— You know."

"Uggggh! Why is it so boring down here?!" Cuphead groaned, stitching down in a third chair.

"Hey! I'm not boring! I'll have you know painting is relaxing, but not boring!" The demon's eye caught the clock on the wall above the door. "Looks like that time again. Well, I need to get to my meeting and then do my duties in the underworld." She stood up with her coffee. "I'm summoning a Hellhound today." She winked.

"Woah, a Hellhound?! Can we come?!" Cuphead asked excitedly.

The Devil stared for a moment, actually seeming to give it some thought. Pursing her lips, she stared between the two girls, giving her their very best puppy eyes.

"No. I don't think so."

Cuphead groaned loudly again as the Devil went off to leave the room, her ear twitching as she heard Cuphead's protest.

"You can either find something to do, or I can assign you a job in my Casino." The Devil spoke sternly.

"Woah, really?! What kind of jobs?! Would we be scamming off rich people like Dice does?" Cuphead jumped in her seat.

"Well, you're both seventeen; not old enough to work behind the bar or work a card table. So...; Cleaning duty." The demon smirked.

Both of the girls grimaced and looked at one another as the Devil laughed loudly.

"That's what I thought." She walked back through the door. "Why don't you two go outside or something? It's not like you're prisoners or anything." She mumbled, shaking her head as she continued.

"Hey, she's right, y'know. Sure, we're staying in Hell, but we're not prisoners." Mugma'am said. "Why don't we just go out and do what we usually do?"

"I guess I just never thought of that... But yeah! We totally could!"

"Just stay clear of anyone who looks like they might be from the orphanage. Especially that lady that owns the orphanage."

"Right."

"Right."

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