#An Ace from Beyond the Grave

[paramorerocker18]

An Ace from Beyond the Grave - Part 2

Dove had become a vigilante by force, using stealth and cunning to try and help those in the worst area of Gotham.

Or Reader doesn't know that Jason is the Red Hood. Red Hood doesn't realise that Reader is his first love from before his death. Jason doesn't know the extent of damage that his death caused.

CW: swearing, implied threat of SA, violence, trafficking ring, guns, poorly written fight scene

Part 1:

Dove

The threat echoed in her head and fear clawed into her heart as the realisation that she was outnumbered and the hope the captured children was about to be snuffed out once these men grabbed her and used her body for their gratification.

What the hell had she done. She was going to die in this warehouse and be tortured in front of the children she was meant to be saving.

There was suddenly a thud next to her and to the right of her their was a huge man clad in a red helmet with a gun in each hand. He was an absolute pillar of a man, at least 6 foot tall and he had appeared like some kind of angel of retribution from above.

Saviour was not a word she would have used to describe the Red Hood but there he stood like he had been carved from the heavens to vanquish those due retribution. Its seemed like another cruel twist of fate that she was going to be saved by Gothams newest crime lord who Dove felt nothing but hatred for.

The guards all changed the target of their guns to the new figure in the warehouse. "It's the Red Hood," the shortest of the hench men shouted and Dove could hear the fear in his voice.

The Red Hood said nothing and raised his gun to the middle trafficker and shot him in the head. "GO LEFT," the large man yelled at her.

She aimed her gun at the greasy man's kneecaps and shot three bullets whilst attempting to duck from the bullets being sent back at her. The bullet hit him causing a loud cry of curses to leave his mouth but that didn't stop her.

Running towards him, she connected her foot with a kick into his busted kneecap sending him sprawling to his back screaming in pain.

Lowering herself down stamping on his knee, "Looks like the only one being taught anything is you," she taunted him. He attempted to spit at her but the pain of the gunshot wound had clearly robbed his mouth of any moisture. "You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch!" He howled as she pushed her foot down harder.

Grabbing another syringe from her belt she injected the vile man, all of sudden she felt a searing pain in her calf. Looking down she saw the gash of where the man had tried to stab her in his drugged state but had only managed to cut her. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell fully unconscious.

Pulling away from the man, she immediately went to the children. Four terrified faces looked up at her, they all reared away from her. Understandably given all they had gone through and the fact she had a mask covering half her face and a dark hood up. Dove quickly ripped down her hood. "Hi guys, I am here to help. My name is Dove and I am going to get you out of here and get you home I promise." She held her pinky out and even though none of the kids could grab it they seemed to recognise the solemn vow that she had proposed.

"I'm going to untie you and remove the material from your mouth now is that okay?" The little boy she asked nodded his head causing his curls to bounce with the movement. She checked he was ready and removed the gag and rope binding him and then continued the process with the other three. Each time confirming with the children that they were ready for her to untie them.

Answering all the questions the best she could, she quickly managed to get all four of the kids free.

"Fucking scumbags," she heard muttered across the warehouse. In the adrenaline of the gash on her leg and freeing the children, the Red Hood falling from the rafters had slipped her mind. She whirled around whilst drawing her gun pointing it directly at the crime lords chest.

"Seriously?" Hood chuckled out lowly, clearly finding amusement in Dove redrawing her gun. Anger flicking inside her, laughter was not the response she was looking for when aiming the barrel of a weapon at someone.

Although she wasn't sure what to have expected as a response, it certainly wasn't the modulated response of what sounded like a bratty teenager. Not letting that disarm her, the gun stayed pointed directly at his chest.

"What are you doing here Hood?"

"What do you think I am doing here?" The Red Hood hit back the aggravated tone only enhanced by the modulator. The light amused tone lost to his voice.

His quick change to anger reassuring Dove. That's better she thought, a twisted thought sure but she liked the idea of irritating the huge adonis of a man in front of her. Seriously why did he looked like he was sculpted by a virtuoso of art and Hood was their magnum opus. Now Dove was waxing poetry about the target of her next bullet. Get it together!

"I am not letting you have the children they are going home, I will fight you. I won't let you take them." There was no way she would win against the Red Hood, she had heard the stories about his showdown with Batman himself and that Hood nearly won.

She didn't know much about the newest crime lord to take over the territory she tried to protect. Hood didn't sell drugs to children and was protecting some of the working girls she knew. However that did not mean much in Gotham when it came to its illustrious gallery of rogues and villians.

Especially crime lords that sported that certain moniker. Dove hated him viciously for that alone, no matter what good Hood may have done for the Narrows, Hills and Bowery, his alias was enough for her to know he was evil. Regardless of any good she had heard, she wasn't stupid enough to let a known crime lord take the children. Gotham had taught her better than that.

Dove had learnt early that no one was to be trusted. "I have backup coming." She lied.

"First of all no you don't, there are signal jammers all around the site. If you had backup you wouldn't have charged in on your own against three people." Dove's mouth felt like she had dipped her tongue in acid. He knew she didn't have backup, her lie had fallen apart instantly. "Second, I'm here for the same reason you are to get these kids back home."

Damn her own signal jammers had come back round to bite her. She eyed him warily, not yet sure to drop her guard. Could you blame her it is Gotham after all.

The two vigilantes stood staring at the other guns pointed trying to assess the other when suddenly from behind her one of the children darted out.

"Mr Hood! You came to save me!" The scene in front of her was truly bizarre. Their was a small brown haired 8 year old child wrapped around the muscular left leg of the Red Hood staring up at the helmet in adoration. "I knew you would come to save me just like when you saved me and Andi before."

"Hey Melie, of course I would come save you. I said I always would." Red Hood replied in the softest voice that Dove had ever heard. A tone so soft she wouldn't have thought capable of the red Helmeted man who towered above her and was a wall of muscles.

"Miss Dove, I promise Mr Hood is a hero. You don't have to be mad at him." Melie the small girl said smiling at her.

Reluctantly Dove flicked the safety on and put her gun back in the holster. "Well Melie, any friend of yours is a friend of mine," she shot her a smile which made Melie absolutely beam.

"Miss Dove, you're bleeding," interrupted Thomas who had introduced himself as Dove had untied him.

"Oh, I am okay don't worry Thomas. Its only a graze."

It was not in fact just a graze now that the adrenaline was fading colossal waves of pain were starting to crash over her but that would need to wait. These kids needed to get out of here first.

Scanning the room, Dove spotted the computer system that had been crudely set up in the warehouse, inputting the flash drive she had been given by Oracle she quickly copied all the data on the PC. Oracle would be able to find what she needed.

Turning back to the Red Hood and the four children. "Let's get you to the station and bring you back home."

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

A/n let me know what you think !!

[shitpostingkats]

We need to remember that, in a world where ghosts are real, this is an even more hilarious conversation.

[wrightandco]

Mia is literally dead and she still has to go to work like seriously Phoenix let a girl rest in peace

[pcktknife]

it is so funny i offhandedly said miles was ugly and you came in with his father's visage to question that statement

it makes me sad when ppl call phoenix ugly because when i played aa3 or whichever one gives you his profile i spent like 5-10 minutes awing over how cute he was 😔

[s0dium]

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍��𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

~

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

~

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since. 

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party.  His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on. 

 "And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

~

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me. 

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both? 

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it. 

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.” 

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents.  What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”  

~

You can't believe you are doing this. 

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation. 

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle. 

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree. 

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

~

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen. 

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure. 

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

 His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. ���It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you. 

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up." 

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?” 

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave. 

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring. 

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest. 

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.  

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess. 

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?” 

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

[luckywolfsbane]

Bella's ghost: Clifford, I have a favor to ask. He's back to himself. There's something you must do to make him smile.

Clifford: I'm listening! If it helps my people at all, I'm so happy to do it!

Bella's ghost: Climb in bed with Ace. Push his legs aside. Do not move when he shifts. His legs will end up off kilter, and he will notice you when he wakes.

Clifford: But... Ace has chronic pain. If I push on his legs, his back and hip will hurt tomorrow.

Bella's ghost: That’s the idea. Clifford, you must bother him. It's what he needs. He doesn't know, but he wants you to do it. He needs it.

Clifford: He'll be mad and won't give me pats or treats.

Bella's ghost: Nonsense, he won't deprive you. He'll smile and give you extra pets despite the pain because it's what I used to do when I could climb in bed with him.

Clifford: If you're sure.

Bella's ghost: If I didn't know what I was doing, I wouldn't tell you to do this. Now go. Fuck up his back and make his ass late for work.

Clifford: Yes, ma'am! I will give Ace temporary pain in hopes he gains less-than temporary joy!

Bella's ghost: That's my boy. Make me proud.

[solxamber]

I loved the platonic Malleus helps Yuu get Idia fic and I was wondering if you could so something similar with Cater or Trey or Vil or Leona or Floyd? You can choose, anything like that would be amazing my liege.

you asked and i answered, i love this concept so much

Fae Courtship 101: Romance for Dummies || Floyd Leech

In your desperation to confess to Floyd, you made the grave mistake of recruiting Malleus for help—now the only thing you’re courting is death.

For reasons beyond mortal comprehension—beyond your own comprehension—you have fallen for Floyd Leech.

Floyd. Leech.

The man who treats personal space like a suggestion, bites people for fun, and once chased a first-year across campus while laughing like a slasher villain because he was “bored.”

The man who once tried to sell you to Azul in exchange for a really nice hat. The man who could, at any given moment, be contemplating something as simple as “what’s for lunch” or something as horrifyingly chaotic as “what if I threw the prefect off the third-floor balcony to see how they bounce?”

It’s a bad idea. Objectively, scientifically, in every single way, this is a mistake.

Grim and Deuce have been holding interventions. The ghosts of Ramshackle have been looking at you like they’re already preparing to welcome you into their ranks. You're rapidly losing the moral high ground in any discussion about Ace’s bad life choices.

But the heart wants what it wants. And unfortunately, yours wants to make terrible decisions.

Which brings you here, pacing alongside Malleus Draconia, crown prince of Briar Valley, king of ominous nighttime strolls, and your designated therapist for the evening.

“I just—I don’t get it, Malleus!” you wail, gesturing wildly as you stomp through the moonlit campus. “I should like normal people! People who don’t consider attempted murder to be a love language! I should have instincts!”

Malleus hums in thought. “Hm. Concerning.”

“Exactly!” You throw your hands up. “I should be running in the opposite direction! Instead, I’m over here, wondering if he’d bite me gently if I asked nicely!”

Malleus stops walking.

You stop too, looking over to see him gazing at you with a carefully neutral expression. There’s a brief silence. A beat. And then, slowly—gravely—he nods.

“Understood.”

You blink. “...Huh?”

He turns to you with the air of a man who has just accepted a sacred duty. “You have chosen a perilous path, Child of Man.”

You stare. “I—??"

“But fear not,” he continues, raising a hand to his chest in solemn promise. “I shall help you attain your romance.”

Silence.

A breeze rolls through the courtyard. A crow caws in the distance. Somewhere, Grim is experiencing a deep sense of foreboding.

“…You’re going to what?”

Malleus nods again, expression determined. “Leave it to me.”

You suddenly have so many regrets.

Grim looks at you the way a doctor looks at a patient about to flatline. Gravely. With pity. With deep concern for the irreversible damage.

"Okay, listen hench-human, I’ve let a lot of things slide, but this? This I gotta ask—do you hate life that much?"

You blink at him. "What?"

Grim waves his little paws dramatically. "First, you fall for Floyd of all people. That’s already a death wish. And now, you’re actually listening to Malleus for dating advice? What’s next? You gonna ask Kalim for tips on financial responsibility?!"

You open your mouth. Close it. You… okay, you really have no defense. But before you can say anything—

There’s a knock at the door.

And you don’t even have to guess who it is.

You open it to find Malleus standing there, his expression set in earnest determination. In his hands is a book that looks older than your grandmother. The kind of ancient tome that looks like it holds dark secrets, forbidden spells, possibly even a recipe for soup made from human souls.

Standing right next to him, grinning like a goblin, is Lilia.

You feel your soul leave your body.

"Ah, Child of Man," Malleus intones. "I have found it. The ultimate guide to fae courtship rituals. You shall use these techniques to win the heart of your eel."

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," Lilia cackles. "Do you know how long it's been since I’ve seen these methods in action? The devastation! The absolute carnage!"

You stare at them. You stare into the abyss. The abyss grins back.

Grim looks at you, his face a perfect picture of someone watching a loved one make the worst life decisions in real time.

"You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

…You sigh. "Yeah. I’m really doing this."

You are simply minding your own business, walking to class like a normal person, when you spot Floyd approaching from the other end of the hallway.

As always, you smile at him, because you have fully accepted your fate as a fool with horrible taste in men. You expect him to either grin back or threaten to suplex you for fun—classic Floyd things.

What you do not expect is the sudden sensation of a phantom hand shoving you forward.

And just like that, gravity wins.

You crash into Floyd with all the grace of a drunk goose, smacking into his chest with enough force to send both of you stumbling. Floyd barely moves (because he is built like a problem), but you rebound like a cartoon character, nearly falling over before his hands land heavily on your shoulders.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you stare at him.

Then, slowly, your brain remembers what just happened, and you whip around—

Only to see Malleus standing at the end of the hallway, looking extremely pleased with himself.

He gives you a smug, regal nod.

He is also holding a book titled "How to Romance for Dummies."

You are going to throw hands with a literal prince.

Before you can implode, Floyd’s grip on your shoulders tightens. You turn back to him, only to find him looking entirely too displeased about being your impromptu landing pad.

“Shriiiimpy,” he drawls, squinting at you like a judge in a courtroom drama. “What’s up with that, huh? Tryna tackle me first thing in the morning?”

“I—I tripped!” you stammer, trying to collect the shreds of your dignity. “I didn’t mean to crash into you, I swear!”

Floyd hums, unconvinced. Then, after a beat of consideration, he shrugs.

“Aaah, whatever.” His fingers dig just slightly into your shoulders, a slow grin stretching across his face. “You still ran into me, soooo… you owe me.”

You blink. “Wait. Owe you?”

“Mhm!” His grin widens, teeth sharp. “Now ya gotta hang out with me today.”

You blink again. Slowly. You could argue, but you have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t get you anywhere, and honestly? Maybe this is exactly the opening you need.

Maybe… Malleus isn’t that bad at this.

You take that last thought back immediately.

Because not even a day after that whole hallway fiasco, Malleus finds you again, pulls you aside with all the gravitas of an ancient ruler about to bestow divine wisdom, and insists that, in order to properly court Floyd, you must—

Compliment Floyd’s strength three times. At first, you thought, okay, easy enough, I can just tell him he’s strong and call it a day. But then—THEN—Malleus, in his infinite wisdom, handed you a quill and parchment and declared, “It must be in verse. Poetry carries the weight of true devotion.”

And now, here you are.

Standing in front of Floyd Leech. Holding a piece of paper with the most cringe-inducing attempt at poetry you've ever written in your life.

Floyd, to his credit, was already giggling the moment you approached with a look of sheer suffering. But when you clear your throat and attempt to actually read the thing—

"Oh mighty Floyd, with hands so bold—"

He just. Loses it.

Absolutely wheezing, doubling over, practically using you as a support beam to keep himself upright.

You glare at him and continue, determined to power through:

"A force unmatched, a tale retold—"

Floyd: "PFT—!!!"

He’s straight-up crying at this point. Tears. You swear you hear Jade laugh somewhere in the distance.

You don’t even make it to the third compliment. You just turn on your heel and walk away before your soul crumples in on itself like a dying star.

Malleus, watching from afar, sighs in clear disappointment. “You lack dedication,” he murmurs, shaking his head like an elder watching the youth fail at life.

You absolutely regret everything.

You don't know why you keep letting Malleus give you advice. Actually, no—that's a lie. You do know. It's because the second he heard you liked Floyd, his eyes lit up like he’d just been given a personal quest by the divine forces of romance, and now he refuses to rest until your love is secured.

Unfortunately, this means you are currently locked in yet another horrendous discussion about fae courting rituals.

"Scent-marking is a vital step in courtship," Malleus declares with the kind of grim authority that should be reserved for battlefields, not this. "He must recognize you as his."

You blink at him. "Oh, like giving him my hoodie or something?" That’s normal. That’s doable. That’s the kind of thing people do when they like each other, right? You’ve seen couples swap sweaters before. Maybe Malleus is finally onto something not-insane.

Malleus shakes his head gravely. "No. You must present him with something you have personally scented. Ideally, by rolling upon it."

Silence.

Rolling upon it.

You stare at him. He stares back. Completely serious.

You try to process what he’s just suggested. What he has just, with full sincerity, told you to do.

"Malleus."

"Yes?"

"You want me to roll around on an object like a dog and then give it to Floyd."

"Precisely."

You briefly consider just walking into the ocean.

It takes twenty full minutes to talk him down from this absolute lunacy and convince him that simply giving Floyd a sweater you’ve worn will do the job just fine. He looks at you the way a disappointed coach looks at a failing athlete.

"If you are not dedicated to the craft," he mutters, "you cannot expect great results."

You pretend you don’t hear him.

Fast forward to the next day, and you are sitting in class next to Floyd, who is draped over his desk in a deep and powerful boredom coma.

You pull out the sweater and awkwardly nudge it toward him.

"Here."

Floyd immediately perks up. Dangerously interested. He tilts his head, peering at the sweater like you’ve just handed him a rare treasure.

"Eh? What's this?"

"It's mine. You can have it," you say, trying to play it cool, despite the fact that your entire soul is trying to flee your body from embarrassment.

Floyd picks up the sweater and—without hesitation—presses his face into it.

You almost die. Right then and there. Instant expiration.

He leans back in his chair, grinning way too wide. "Heheh~ You smell nice, shrimpy~"

You barely manage to hold onto your composure. You are barely hanging on.

Malleus, watching from the hallway, narrows his eyes and mutters, "It is not the worst effort... but it lacks the impact of true commitment."

You ignore him. You ignore everything. You're just grateful that—for once—this wasn’t completely unhinged, and that Floyd somehow seems to like it.

"Nothing says romance like a meal made with your own two hands!" Lilia declares, slamming an ancient, definitely cursed cookbook onto the table.

You blink down at it. The title is in some language that makes your vision swim just looking at it. The edges are charred, the pages stained with substances you’re 70% sure are not food-safe, and Malleus—Malleus Draconia himself, looks a little unsure.

That should have been your first hint.

But you? A fool. An idiot. A desperate, love-struck buffoon? You press forward.

“Alright,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, already regretting this. “What ingredients do I need?”

Lilia beams, flipping to a page that looks like it came from an alchemist’s horror novel.

"Let's see! We’ll need:"

• Moonshade Truffle,

• A pinch of Sablethorn Dust,

• Three drops of Evernight Basilisk Extract,

• Seven Tears of a Joyful Banshee,

• And a Love-Smitten Fire Spirit’s Breath!

…

You stare.

"Lilia."

"Yes, beastie?"

"These sound like potion ingredients."

"Oh-ho!" Lilia chuckles, waving a hand. "You humans always get so caught up in technicalities. But what is cooking if not a kind of magic?"

…No. No, this is actual magic. You are not making a love potion, but this sure as hell sounds like one.

But, like the fool you are, you go along with it. You spend far too much money (your entire savings) at Azul’s Most Definitely Not a Scam Emporium for all of these ridiculous ingredients. He knows you’re up to something dumb. He does not care. He simply profits.

And now, here you are. In the Ramshackle kitchen. Grim watches from a safe distance behind a chair. Malleus stands off to the side with his arms crossed, looking like he is rethinking his life choices. And Lilia, that menace, is watching you mix the ingredients like a proud mentor.

Everything is going fine. Suspiciously fine.

And then—

"Alright, time to bake it!" Lilia claps his hands. "It says here to bake at 350 for 20 minutes!"

You nod. This is reasonable.

"However!" He flips the page. "In the olden days, we used a slightly different method."

Malleus frowns. Your stomach drops.

"Instead of 350 for 20 minutes…" Lilia hums. "It says here—750 for 10!"

…

"What."

"Don’t be shy! Give it a try!" Lilia gestures for you to do it.

Malleus shifts, looking like he wants to intervene. Grim is slowly backing out of the room. You ignore all of this.

Because you are an idiot.

You turn the oven to 750. You shove the pan inside. You watch in real-time as your dignity burns.

The oven makes a sound ovens should not make.

Something explodes. The smell is indescribable.

When you pull the pan out, it is a pile of pure, blackened charcoal.

You are horrified. Malleus looks concerned. Grim looks betrayed.

"Are ya tryin’ to kill me, Henchhuman?!" Grim yells. "I thought we were friends!"

But Lilia? Lilia is nodding approvingly.

"Ah," he sighs, nostalgic. "Just like how I remember it."

…This man should not be allowed in kitchens.

But you, an absolute buffoon, take the charred remains of your so-called courtship offering and bring it to Floyd anyway.

You find him in the cafeteria, dump the plate in front of him, and sit down. Defeated.

Floyd stares. Pokes it with a finger.

And then, he looks at you.

With pity.

"Shrimpy." His voice is gentle. You feel a chill of fear. "You goin' through hard times or somethin'?"

…

You die inside.

Your cooking was so bad that Floyd Leech—FLOYD LEECH—was feeling sympathy for you.

You have never known such shame.

You sit there, staring into the distance like a soldier who’s seen too much. A philosopher pondering the futility of existence. A person who has scent-marked a sweater and written poetry at the behest of a fae prince who thinks you’re simply not dedicated enough to the craft of love.

You are contemplating life, death, and the many, many decisions that have led you here.

And then, Jade sits beside you.

You don’t even flinch. You should. You should be wary. You should immediately launch yourself into the bushes and prepare to be interrogated in some terrifying eel version of psychological warfare. But you don’t. Because you have nothing left.

So you just turn your head slowly, look at him with the dull, hollow eyes of someone who’s really going through it.

Jade looks positively delighted.

"My, my," he says, in that syrupy, knowing voice of his. "What could possibly put you in such a state?"

You inhale. Exhale. Consider your options. Death is looking really attractive.

"I don’t want to talk about it."

Jade hums, obviously entertained, but then—then—he decides to make it worse.

"You know," he muses, "even Floyd has started to get concerned."

You blink.

"…Huh?"

"Oh, yes," he says, resting his chin on his hand, enjoying every second of this. "Between the odd gifts, the unusual behavior, and your general aura of suffering, even he has begun to notice. Which means you are being particularly obvious, because he rarely pays attention to anything that isn't entertaining."

You don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed.

"What’s your point?" you mutter.

Jade smiles like a predator about to land a final, devastating strike.

"You should simply tell him. Because this…?" He gestures vaguely at your soul-deep despair. "This is rather pitiful."

You stare.

You process.

And, somewhere in the depths of your heart, you realize he’s right.

You are in shambles.

Like, properly, horrifically, soul-crushingly in shambles. You’ve been through so much. You've spent weeks engaging in increasingly deranged behavior at the behest of a well-meaning yet hopelessly out-of-touch fae prince. You've endured ritual poetry readings, scent-marking disasters, and a culinary war crime that left you emotionally and financially bankrupt.

And now, standing in front of Floyd Leech—the very cause of your descent into insanity—you finally snap.

"I LIKE YOU!" you blurt, voice cracking like a cheap mirror. "I LIKE YOU AND I'VE BEEN ACTING LIKE A LUNATIC BECAUSE MALLEUS SAID I HAD TO FOLLOW FAE COURTSHIP RITUALS AND I—" your voice hiccups, borderline hysterical, "—I THINK I LOST A PIECE OF MY SOUL WHEN I TRIED TO BAKE THAT DAMN CAKE BUT IT'S FINE, BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S JUST WHAT LOVE IS??? AND I DID IT ALL FOR YOU, FLOYD, BECAUSE I AM A DUMB IDIOT WHO LIKES YOU FOR SOME REASON."

You gasp for air, because this has been a lot.

And Floyd?

Floyd is laughing.

Not just a chuckle, either. No, this menace of a man is bent over, hands on his knees, actually wheezing with mirth as if you’ve just performed the comedy routine of the century. His shoulders shake. His teeth glint in the light. He looks absolutely delighted.

And you? You just stand there, a broken, hollow shell of a human being.

"You should’ve just told me, Shrimpy~!" he cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. "I like you too, y’know?"

...

There’s a moment of silence as your poor, battered brain struggles to process this information.

"WHAT."

Floyd grins, like you haven’t just endured weeks of psychological torment at the hands of a dragon prince. "I mean, you’re fun! You make me laugh, and I like squeezin’ ya. ‘Course I like ya!"

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, he lunges forward and grabs you in a hug so tight that your ribs beg for mercy. You are crushed, consumed, engulfed in the sheer force of his affection. Your spine may never recover, but at this point, what’s another injury to your dignity?

And honestly? You don’t care.

Because he likes you.

Floyd likes you back.

Which means—you realize, tears pricking your eyes in relief—you never have to perform another insane fae courtship ritual again.

No more humiliating poetry. No more dubious scent-marking. No more playing Russian roulette with your digestive system in the name of romance. You did it. You won.

And then Floyd leans down, cups your face, and kisses you.

It's a little rough, a little overwhelming, but you melt into it anyway, because Sevens, you earned this.

Somewhere in the distance, Malleus Draconia watches from the shadows.

Arms crossed, nodding sagely, he looks upon his greatest success.

"My expert techniques," he murmurs, pride swelling in his voice, "have secured my child of man their eel."

Behind him, Lilia wipes an imaginary tear.

"Beautiful," he sighs.

Masterlist

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

you are love itself (君は愛そのものだ)

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, established relationship, love as worship, love as a choice, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

pairing. portgas d. ace x black!fem!reader

synopsis. his skin is dotted in stardust.

notes. a 1.3k look into those short moments of privacy you have with ace on the moby. i got the title from 'therefore you and me' after rewatching this amazing asl brothers animatic for the billionth time. cover comes klimt's the kiss (1908).

Everything is made of stardust; the stars that made Ace are simply visible to the eye.

They couldn't be contained in the depths of his body like the rest of the world's inhabitants. It's scattered all across his skin in a beautiful display, matching the skies they fell from. Isn't that something? You brush a hand against warm skin in awe. It's all right there. The stars themselves rest upon his skin, how beautiful is that? How could anyone want someone like that dead?

When you were children, Ace told you he would bring you the moon.

What do you need the moon for when you've been touching the stars since you were 10?

Straddling his lap, you can't help laughing as you think you'd been fighting a losing battle from the start. From the beginning, you'd been drawn to Ace and his stars and you wanted to follow where they'd go for the rest of your life.

"What's so funny?" Ace murmurs into your shoulder.

"I think I was born to love you." It is the only plausible conclusion for you to reach after 10 years of loving the same person. For the half of your life you've known him, you've chosen Ace from day one. You will continue to choose him for the rest of the life you have. You chose to chase him all around Mt. Corvo, you chose to be his friend, you chose to join his crew and your heart chose him even if your head had been slow to realize. "We don't need to find the One Piece," you murmur as you lead a trail of kisses from his shoulder to Ace's cheek. "I already have everything the world has to offer right here."

You feel Ace stiffen beneath you before he laughs sheepishly, "I think you need to have your eyes checked if you think that."

"Hey," you lean back so you can see his face. Your brows are furrowed sternly but your eyes sparkle with mischief and your lips stretch into a challenging grin. "I have better eyes than you, I can see the soul."

Ace snorts but his voice is light and as warm as the smile painting his face, "souls of the dead, yeah." Smiles suit Ace more than the frowns that were once commonplace when you were younger.

"That still counts," you protest with a chuckle. He doesn't have to believe he's worthy of it, you'll tell Ace all the same. You cup his face in your hands and enjoy the vibration of his mellifluous laughter under your fingers tips as you squeeze his cheeks. "There's a lot you can learn about this sort of stuff when you can see the dead." How the soul carries its wounds even after death. How the soul carries the essence of everything that makes something itself. How love can carry on beyond the grave.

You've seen it countless times by now in your truthfully short time of being a power holder.

The spirit of a man who wanted a few berries to leave as a surprise his husband could stumble upon to brighten his day.

An elderly woman dancing in the town square, seemingly alone following the steps she took with her lost love long ago. Unbeknownst to her, however, her love danced with all the same as they did once a long time ago.

Pods of orcas full of members past and present, refusing to part from their birth pod even in death.

How beautiful it is, a love like that.

Even while deceased, they choose to remain by their beloved all the same.

Whenever it is Ace's time, he'll take his stars with him and they will rest on his skin just as they did when he was alive. But I'll make sure you're so happy you won't want to stay, you vowed when you partook of the sea's cursed fruit. You carry this vow even now. Ace will die a happy death but more importantly, he will live a long and mirthful life.

(You can tell for as sure as your eyes are dry; the urge to cry and scream in mourning and warning nonexistent. Still it's your heart's desire that you go first so you don't ever have to risk the day you know death will come for Portgas D. Ace.)

"You know what I think," you cease your pinching, letting your lax thumbs stroke his face. Dark eyes look up at you like you're a dream and gold like sunlight rests in your chest. It's light yet heavy and even if your heart is calm, its rhythmic beating tells you something precious. And he's so, so precious. "I think that when people move on, they're reborn as someone else. Then they get to live life all over again. And one day, that's gonna happen to us."

Then you'll cease to be the 'you' you have been and so will he.

Maybe that time, you'll be raised in separate seas and there will be no trio of brothers you'll latch onto. Maybe he'll be born somewhere in Paradise but I'll be from the West Blue. Or maybe he'll be a fishman. Or a giant!

Maybe next time, Ace will be a short girl with firey auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes with the disposition to match. Or he'll be a scarred and gruff dragon moray eel fishman who is an overt romantic.

Maybe next time his stars will follow him as the marker that ties him to his previous life. Then you'll recognize him the moment you see him. But even if I don't, I'll love you then too. You don't need reminders of who he was to make you want him again.

Whatever the outcome may be, you will embrace it wholly.

"Whenever that happens, I'm gonna find you and I'm going to love you all over again. You can be a girl or a giant or a fishman." Or maybe he'll be the tiny human and you'll be the giant. It will be nice being taller than Ace for once, you tell him as much with a laugh. There's a spot of wetness at the corner of his eyes that you wipe away instinctively. "Or… maybe this world runs in one big loop and we get to be us again but that time we get to make different choices. Do the stuff we didn't do last time. But regardless of all the different things I might end up doing, the one thing that is gonna stay the same is that I'll choose you all over again."

There's a pause before Ace ducks from your gaze with a wet laugh, forehead pressed against your shoulder again. The unmistakeable feel of warm droplets subsequently follow. "Thatch must be cutting onions," he chuckles weakly. "Sorry."

"Dummy," you wrap your arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent. There's a natural sweetness to it you can't explain; it's sweet but there is a peppery kick. It's been that way since the first day you met him. I love him, I love him, I love him. The sentiment echoes throughout your entire being. "it's okay to cry."

"Would you really want me again?" His voice is soft and unsure like a young bird who doesn't know if it can trust its wings.

Who else would I want?

Why would I want anyone else?

I've known you for 10 years, Ace. There's nothing about you I don't want.

"Over and over again," you kiss his temple once, twice and then a third time before you lift his head and kiss the corners of his eyes. "It's you and no one else."

A noise of surprise escapes you when Ace's lips press against your own but you relax a beat later, humming tenderly. You relish every sensation, how his arms wrap around you tight and how his fingers gently dig into your back. The taste of salt on your lips is akin to the ocean and your heartbeat reverberates throughout your chest.

Yes, it's telling you something precious.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

you are love itself (君は愛そのものだ)

synopsis. his skin is dotted in stardust.

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader

word count. 1.3k | masterlist

content warning. reader is coded black (written ambiguously. anyone can read), established relationship, childhood friends, love as worship, love as a choice, reader has established devil fruit powers

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a repost from another account and a sort of filler post for anybody who wants something not event-related. i love this fic so much i wanted it to be on this blog too. may you get a kick out of reading it if you haven't before!

Everything is made of stardust; the stars that made Ace are simply visible to the eye.

They couldn’t be contained in the depths of his body like the rest of the world’s inhabitants. It’s scattered all across his skin in a beautiful display, matching the skies they fell from. Isn’t that something? You brush a hand against warm skin in awe. It’s all right there. The stars themselves rest upon his skin, how beautiful is that? How could anyone want someone like that dead?

When you were children, Ace told you he would bring you the moon.

What do you need the moon for when you’ve been touching the stars since you were 10?

Straddling his lap, you can’t help laughing as you think you’d been fighting a losing battle from the start. From the beginning, you’d been drawn to Ace and his stars and you wanted to follow where they’d go for the rest of your life.

“What’s so funny?” Ace murmurs into your shoulder.

“I think I was born to love you.” It is the only plausible conclusion for you to reach after 10 years of loving the same person. For the half of your life you’ve known him, you’ve chosen Ace from day one. You will continue to choose him for the rest of the life you have. You chose to chase him all around Mt. Corvo, you chose to be his friend, you chose to join his crew and your heart chose him even if your head had been slow to realize. “We don’t need to find the One Piece,” you murmur as you lead a trail of kisses from his shoulder to Ace’s cheek. “I already have everything the world has to offer right here.”

You feel Ace stiffen beneath you before he laughs sheepishly, “I think you need to have your eyes checked if you think that.”

“Hey,” you lean back so you can see his face. Your brows are furrowed sternly but your eyes sparkle with mischief and your lips stretch into a challenging grin. “I have better eyes than you, I can see the soul.”

Ace snorts but his voice is light and as warm as the smile painting his face, “souls of the dead, yeah.” Smiles suit Ace more than the frowns that were once commonplace when you were younger.

“That still counts,” you protest with a chuckle. He doesn’t have to believe he’s worthy of it, you’ll tell Ace all the same. You cup his face in your hands and enjoy the vibration of his mellifluous laughter under your fingers tips as you squeeze his cheeks. “There’s a lot you can learn about this sort of stuff when you can see the dead.” How the soul carries its wounds even after death. How the soul carries the essence of everything that makes something itself. How love can carry on beyond the grave.

You’ve seen it countless times by now in your truthfully short time of being a power holder.

The spirit of a man who wanted a few berries to leave as a surprise his husband could stumble upon to brighten his day.

An elderly woman dancing in the town square, seemingly alone following the steps she took with her lost love long ago. Unbeknownst to her, however, her love danced with all the same as they did once a long time ago.

Pods of orcas full of members past and present, refusing to part from their birth pod even in death.

How beautiful it is, a love like that.

Even while deceased, they choose to remain by their beloved all the same.

Whenever it is Ace’s time, he’ll take his stars with him and they will rest on his skin just as they did when he was alive. But I’ll make sure you’re so happy you won’t want to stay, you vowed when you partook of the sea’s cursed fruit. You carry this vow even now. Ace will die a happy death but more importantly, he will live a long and mirthful life.

(You can tell for as sure as your eyes are dry; the urge to cry and scream in mourning and warning nonexistent. Still it’s your heart’s desire that you go first so you don’t ever have to risk the day you know death will come for Portgas D. Ace.)

“You know what I think,” you cease your pinching, letting your lax thumbs stroke his face. Dark eyes look up at you like you’re a dream and gold like sunlight rests in your chest. It’s light yet heavy and even if your heart is calm, its rhythmic beating tells you something precious. And he’s so, so precious. “I think that when people move on, they’re reborn as someone else. Then they get to live life all over again. And one day, that’s gonna happen to us.”

Then you’ll cease to be the 'you’ you have been and so will he.

Maybe that time, you’ll be raised in separate seas and there will be no trio of brothers you’ll latch onto. Maybe he’ll be born somewhere in Paradise but I’ll be from the West Blue. Or maybe he’ll be a fishman. Or a giant!

Maybe next time, Ace will be a short girl with firey auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes with the disposition to match. Or he’ll be a scarred and gruff dragon moray eel fishman who is an overt romantic.

Maybe next time his stars will follow him as the marker that ties him to his previous life. Then you’ll recognize him the moment you see him. But even if I don’t, I’ll love you then too. You don’t need reminders of who he was to make you want him again.

Whatever the outcome may be, you will embrace it wholly.

“Whenever that happens, I’m gonna find you and I’m going to love you all over again. You can be a girl or a giant or a fishman.” Or maybe he’ll be the tiny human and you’ll be the giant. It will be nice being taller than Ace for once, you tell him as much with a laugh. There’s a spot of wetness at the corner of his eyes that you wipe away instinctively. “Or… maybe this world runs in one big loop and we get to be us again but that time we get to make different choices. Do the stuff we didn’t do last time. But regardless of all the different things I might end up doing, the one thing that is gonna stay the same is that I’ll choose you all over again.”

There’s a pause before Ace ducks from your gaze with a wet laugh, forehead pressed against your shoulder again. The unmistakeable feel of warm droplets subsequently follow. “Thatch must be cutting onions,” he chuckles weakly. “Sorry.”

“Dummy,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent. There’s a natural sweetness to it you can’t explain; it’s sweet but there is a peppery kick. It’s been that way since the first day you met him. I love him, I love him, I love him. The sentiment echoes throughout your entire being. “it’s okay to cry.”

“Would you really want me again?” His voice is soft and unsure like a young bird who doesn’t know if it can trust its wings.

Who else would I want?

Why would I want anyone else?

I’ve known you for 10 years, Ace. There’s nothing about you I don’t want.

��Over and over again,” you kiss his temple once, twice and then a third time before you lift his head and kiss the corners of his eyes. “It’s you and no one else.”

A noise of surprise escapes you when Ace’s lips press against your own but you relax a beat later, humming tenderly. You relish every sensation, how his arms wrap around you tight and how his fingers gently dig into your back. The taste of salt on your lips is akin to the ocean and your heartbeat reverberates throughout your chest.

Yes, it’s telling you something precious.

[merakiui]

2025 to-write list.

* halloweenie and the law of magnetism are the main priority fics at this moment!! after both are posted, i’ll start working my way through this list (in no particular order)! :D thank you for your patience!!!!

* (color references: purple is series; red is oneshot.)

✧ death row undertow

✧ 3M:3S

✧ the test of faith

✧ bittersweet secret

✧ my sweet monster

yandere!jade leech. your family takes in a mute, orphaned boy with mismatched eyes after he’s washed ashore. “a child spared by the sea can only carry with him the worst of curses,” they say, but you disagree. unbeknownst to you, your “friend” is as welcoming as the shallows and as deceptive as its depths.

✧ havfruens forelskelse/azul thought 2 sequel

yandere!azul ashengrotto. in an effort to conceal a growing secret, you lie to your husband leona. but a lie this devastating cannot be kept hidden forever, and as aquatic danger lurks you’ll eventually have to make a choice. between a lion and an octopus, the decision is obvious. so then, why do you hesitate?

✧ heartache hospital

yandere!scaramouche. kunikuzushi has never known love. for the many years he’s been alive, he’s only ever experienced countless heartaches. luckily, his admittance to the heartache hospital grants him the chance to meet someone who soothes the unending pain in his chest.

✧ the crocodile’s dilemma

yandere!riddle rosehearts. riddle leads a perfect life. he owns his dream house in the woods. he has a good job and makes an enviable salary. he is a law-abiding citizen…until he isn’t. it takes one night to ruin everything he’s striving to maintain, and with consequences mounting he sinks deeper into something criminal.

✧ the harvest maiden

yandere!skully j. graves. seeking shelter from the harsh elements, you enlist the aid of an eccentric pumpkin farmer. though there’s something inherently unsettling about him, you choose to favor his benevolence and kindness. but that is a line worn too thin, and when you announce your departure what is a besotted pumpkin farmer to do?

✧ eternally ever after

yandere!rook hunt. trapped in a gruesome time loop with a crazed stalker, you familiarize yourself with what it means to die. he claims he can save you from this repetition, but how is that possible when he’s the one responsible for your death(s)? if he is as inescapable as death, then perhaps your fates have always been intertwined.

✧ cobweb compulsion

yandere!sunday. you have always trusted sunday. but as plans are underway for a very important ceremony, you begin to look past years and years of lies to see the unpleasant truth that rests just beyond.

✧ homebound

yandere!azul ashengrotto. it is said that an ancient deity will awaken and bring ruinous misfortune to the island you call home. accompanied by your closest friends ace and deuce, you’re determined to uncover the mystery and stop a ruthless god before it’s too late.

✧ moonbroch

yandere!octavinelle. sequel to sea glass. they tell you the sea has always been your home, but something doesn’t feel right. an overwhelming sense of loss tugs at you whenever you spy your aquatic features in the mirror. if words won’t get through to your trio of captors, then disobedient actions certainly will. to ensure your escape goes well, you can only look to the moon and hope—but even that’s beginning to feel less and less like a comfort.

✧ meiri

yandere!rollo flamme. rollo would be inclined to welcome death if it was given to him by your graceful, gentle hands. seeing as that’s not the case and he has been made sacrifice to a most petulant being, he’s going to do the one thing a sacrificial lamb has never done before: live.

[gicosmo]

||My Crocodile Theories||

These are just some overall theories I have about Crocodile!! I hope his past gets revealed soon! He’s such an interesting character.

As we all know by now, Crocodile has made it abundantly clear that he places trust in NO ONE. But why?

I have two theories about why he developed trust issues:

||-Marriage Theory-||

I’ve always found it odd that Crocodile wears rings on every finger EXCEPT his ring finger.

My theory is: Crocodile had a partner. A partner he loved dearly. What happened to said partner? Here’s where the two part comes into play:

His partner betrayed him in some way shape or form. Imagine dedicating your love, trust, basically your whole being to your partner just for them to back stab you. How did his partner back stab him? It could be anything, honestly. Maybe his partner was unfaithful? Maybe his partner teamed up with people he was iffy about. In some way, the person he truly trusted betrayed him. What better way to show it than to completely leave that finger alone without a ring.

The other part? His partner was murdered by someone else he trusted. A friend. Why in the world would Crocodile ever trust anybody again when trust got his partner killed. The one person Crocodile trusted enough to dedicate his life to was ripped away from him. His way of showing respect? Leaving his ring finger empty, his ring buried along with his partner in their grave.

Another thing I want to point out about his ring finger and the significance of it: Maybe his finger not having a ring on it is symbolism. Deep down he actually wants to trust someone. To have someone not only to love, but to trust for the rest of his life. A soulmate. His someone.

||-Ivankov Theory-||

I know a great majority of people love the Crocomom theory(I do too lmao) but I have a different take on Iva’s place in Crocodile’s past!

While I do love the Crocomom theory, I can’t shake the fact that it seems very out of character for Iva to hold something like that against someone. Not just being a mom, but switching genders. Ivankov is all for people being themselves. It would be weird for him to not uphold his beliefs just because it’s Crocodile.

On the topic of Ivankov’s character: Ivankov wouldn’t give the time of day to ANYONE as cruel as Crocodile. Iva gravitates towards people who have hope, people who are for community, good hearted people in general.

My theory: When Crocodile was a rookie, he was a naive sweetheart. A pirate just like Luffy, with the dream to be the king of the pirates. A happy go lucky boy with so much hope not only for himself, but for others too.

While I know that theory sounds like a stretch… Just think about it. Any pirate who has branded himself on being a cruel, intimidating person would NOT want that kind of information out. That would be beyond embarrassing for Crocodile and it gives him a good reason not to try anything during Marineford.

||-Whitebeard Theory-||

We all know by now that Crocodile despised Whitebeard. And we know that they’ve fought in the past.

Hopefully someone can correct me on this in case i’m wrong but I have yet to see ANYONE who has fought Whitebeard… Not become his son?

Think back to the first conversation Ace and Marco had. Marco gave Ace two options: Get off the Moby Dick and start his pirate journey all over. Or become Whitebeard’s son.

My theory: When Whitebeard defeated Crocodile, he gave the same options to him. Join him and become his son, or start over. What did Crocodile do? Start over!

Honestly, Crocodile doesn’t seem like the type to work under ANYONE. While we the audience know that Whitebeard treats his crew as his family, Crocodile didn’t know. In his mind, HE wanted to be his own captain, not to serve under one. He wanted to make HIMSELF pirate king, not help someone else become that.

Not only did Crocodile have to start over, but he had to carry the embarrassment of being defeated.

||-Conclusion-||

Overall? I think Crocodile has been through hell and back. But instead of taking that hurt and learning from it, he’s using that to be the cold hearted man that we know now.

[tangsakura]

Missed Details from Sukuna's Introduction

Did you guys know that there are details we've missed from Sukuna's introduction by Satoru Gojo in chapter 3?

JJK Chapter 3

In this post, I'll go over the few details we've missed because of translation issues or difficulties.

WARNING: Very minor mentions of details beyond season 2 of JJK anime. Please DO NOT INTERACT if you don't want even a tiny bit of spoiler. Also, a bit of a long post ahead.

Missed Detail #1:

Let's start with this panel first.

"Ryomen Sukuna is an imaginary fierce god who has 2 faces and 4 arms."

In this panel, Sukuna was called a 鬼神 (kishin), which in general means a 'fierce god or spirit'. But there are also other meanings beyond this.

鬼神 also refers to gods or spirits/souls of heaven and earth. It is also a Buddhist term that refer to beings with supernatural abilities (e.g. shinigami, rakshasa). 鬼神 can also be pronounced as onigami, which means an invisible (nature) spirit, or a fierce and frightening god or spirit.

So this reflects the belief of people that Sukuna is a fiercely frightening divine being. They might've also believed that he was there even if they couldn't see him, just like how we treat our God(s) in real life (if you're a believer). They are definitely aware of his frightening powers.

It also has another implication behind it. The first kanji, 鬼, means oni. Oni has many translations including demon, evil spirits, trolls and ogres. In addition, during Heian era, the oni creatures were depicted as terrifying monsters that ate people, and there are even literature where oni's were depicted eating people in one mouthful.

Blue Oni, c. 1764. Painting by Soga Shōhaku (1730–1781)

The word 鬼神 is ironic, as well, because of his outward appearance, he can be considered an oni and a divine one at that.

Missed Detail #2:

Below is our last analysis for this post.

"Crowned with the title (name) of Sukuna, we couldn't even eradicate his grave wax that traverse eras as cursed objects."

The title that people gave to this man is 'Sukuna' alone. I don't know why they included 'Ryomen' in the English translation.

JJK Chapter 3 (ENG Translation)

I repeat. The only title they gave this man was 'Sukuna' (宿儺), which means the 'dwelling of exorcism.' 宿 (Suku) means lodging, inn, home, dwellings; while 儺 (Na) means exorcism or the ceremony of driving out evil spirits. What a great name for this guy!

Then what about Ryomen? Where did that come from?

I believe this is the name that they've been calling him for almost his entire life, even before he was called 'King of Curses'. That's right. This is definitely the name - means 'two-faced', btw - that they call him as a kid and became stuck with him until now. Imagine being called 'two-faced' as you grow up. That's most likely Sukuna's life until he was given the title of 'Sukuna'.

His name is ironic in a sense since these people equated him to the (real-life) Ryomen Sukuna who was written in the Nihon Shiki as a vicious force of nature after the imperial family of Japan declared him as such.

So yeah there you have it. Thank you, Gojo, for the wonderful introduction of Sukuna.

I hope this post made your day. Until then.

References:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oni

https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/%E9%AC%BC%E7%A5%9E

https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E9%AC%BC%E7%A5%9E

[1moreff-creator]

What do you think about the secret quotes?

At this point, I'm fairly certain that not everyone will say theirs, seeing as Ace didn't.

Xander had a literal definition, so I kinda assumed that was the reason why he didn't say it, but now I think that maybe these quotes are just meant to give us a general idea of what X character is feeling.

And that Min saying hers might just be a coincidence?

It’s kinda crazy I’ve never done a post specifically about these things, given I tend to bring them up every other DRDT post lol. But I guess it’s probably a good idea to have some kind of thoughts on them written down lol. Let's get into it!

Spoilers for DRDT CH2. CW: Mass death due to sickness, survivor’s guilt, trust issues, murder, suicidal thoughts, self-harm

While I imagine most people on my blog will know what this is about, in case anyone isn’t aware; the secret quotes in question are quotes hidden in the source code of the characters’ individual pages from the cast list.

Look, that’s Teruko’s! 

If you’re interested in what other secrets this series holds, you can check my secrets masterpost!

For a while, it was believed that everyone would, at one point or another, say their secret quote aloud (bar maybe Xander, as his is a bit of an awkward thing to say like melownooo said in the ask). This was mainly believed during the CH2 Pt1 - Pt2 hiatus, as both Min and Arei had said theirs either before death or in a flashback. However, with Xander’s being strange to say and Ace failing to say his before death, it’s looking more likely that only some of them will say their lines (though Ace can always say his in a flashback or Bonus Episode maybe), as the asker here brings up. So, let’s see the lines, and try to figure out what each of them could mean!

Teruko: It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust no one at all. 

Very straightforward, as this is most likely the message Teruko will arrive at with her character arc. Going from trusting a little at the start of the series, then trusting no one for most of CH2, only to realize that not trusting anyone is hampering her ability to solve the mystery in the second trial, our protag is on a bit of a trust rollercoaster. Presumably, this quote shows the attitude she’ll end up with at the end of the series, and may even say the line out loud as a climactic moment!

Xander: survivor guilt(n): feelings of guilt for having survived a catastrophe in which others died.

I didn’t check all of them myself, but this seems to be the only quote without capitalization, funnily enough. A character so deadset on challenging convention that even his secret quote doesn’t follow grammar rules, truly an Ultimate Rebel!

Jokes aside, this obviously refers to what we learn of him in his Bonus Episode, Visiting Graves. He was away when his entire hometown died due to some kind of sickness, and feels survivor's guilt over that. Though if you want me to do my thing and read way too much into it...

Even beyond the irony of the character with survivor’s guilt being the first to die, this could be taken as a hint that he survived more than just the Chariton incident. That could refer to something relating to Mai’s presumed death, given the connection those two had, or even a whole previous killing game. However, that’s much more speculative, and the Chariton incident is enough to explain the quote in its entirety anyways, so. 

Charles: If you forgot it, then it probably wasn’t important to begin with. None of those memories should ever be kept, anyway.

Obviously an ironic statement, given Charles’ childhood amnesia. This is one of the ones which feels strange coming out of Charles’ mouth as a result, and would maybe work better if it’s said to Charles, as opposed to him saying it to someone else. Not that the latter wouldn’t work at all, but y’know.

In any case, the meaning for Charles is the same. It’s meant to be ironic, as Elliot was clearly important to Charles to some extent and Charles forgot him anyways. It’s been said in Q&A that Charles doesn’t like cutting his hair short, presumably because he likes looking like Elliot through subconscious stuff, and there was something about Charles wanting to learn to cook pancakes and Elliot cooking pancakes when he was alive (I think; my memory’s not perfect and I don’t feel like looking all this up. Would be very funny if I misremember anything in this quote in particular though lol). However, Charles might be resistant to that idea, because it would be a pretty harrowing thing if he’s forgotten something important. 

Ace: I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

I mean that’s just Ace in a nutshell. I talked in my CH2 Pt2 analysis about how the theme of control over his life is an important theme of his character, so… I’ll just copy paste from there lol. 

…he feels he completely lacks control of his life, that it's all decided by a fate he can't control, the same way that a jockey doesn't walk on their own, but rather is carried by a horse to their destination. And it's no wonder that this feeling of lacking control is referenced in his secret quote, "I don’t know what to do with myself anymore." After all, it's this feeling of lacking control of himself and his situation that causes him to seek control of anything he can, be it bullying Nico because he sees them as an easy target, distancing himself from others because it's easier to control his feelings that way, killing someone because it's the only way he can control his place in the killing game, or anything else I might be forgetting. And this fear of lacking control is probably part of his fear of death, isn't it? Because no one can control what happens after death.

Yeah that lol.

Arei: Because that’s what friends do.

This is one of the two that got said! 

This line is basically the culmination of Arei’s arc (alongside “let’s be less shitty together”). Here’s the full context so we can see exactly what friends do in Arei’s opinion.

Arei [2-10]: So I’ll prove [that I’m being genuine] to you! I’m going to be your friend! And I’ll do nice things for you! Anything at all! Eden: H-Huh? Arei: Don’t underestimate me! I can be a good person too! Being a good person means doing nice things. So if there’s anything you need from me… Whether it’s defending you from scary jerks like Arturo or baking some stupid fucking cake… I’ll do it. I promise. I’ll do anything for you. Okay? Eden: I… Arei: Because…Because… Because that’s what friends do.

Being a “good person” and being Eden’s friend are intertwined concepts in Arei’s mind, and “being a good person means doing nice things” is part of the entire message of the chapter (though slightly simplified), you get the idea. The resolution of doing “what friends do” is the culmination of Arei’s development, no wonder it’s her secret quote!

Rose: In the end, the only thing I can do is watch my wretched life go on.

I’ve talked about this one a lot too… Though I feel like you can say that about quite a few of these lol. The point here is that Rose is resigned to her fate due to her situation with the Spurling Foundation, as she doesn’t feel like her life can improve. Something something her character design literally has her irreversibly stained with mistakes of the past something something. This one’s straightforward. 

Hu: I want to pay for what I’ve done. But even then, I still want to live.

One of the most cryptic ones by far, as we currently have no idea what this is referring to. We know of little that Hu has done that she’d need to pay for, that she’d also need to bring up the possibility of dying in the same breath. The main theory here is that Hu will eventually become a blackened, and that she’ll feel horrible about it but still want to survive. But of course, we have no idea if that will really happen, as this could also refer to literally anything else.

That aside, though, Hu’s steadfast desire to live is interesting in the context of her having been suicidal in the past. It’s clear that Hu is not suicidal during current killing game time, and in fact has very strong feelings towards David’s actions and how they would have led to everyone’s death. Thus, this quote more so seems to reinforce the theme of metamorphosis that Hu’s got going on with her butterfly motif, among other stuff. She used to not want to live, and now does. Yay for improvement!

Eden: You can’t go back, no matter how hard you try.

Another cryptic one! While there’s an obvious connection to Eden through her talent (time only moves forward, so the Clockmaker saying “you can’t go back” makes thematic sense), it seems like a strange thing for someone of Eden’s personality to say. She definitely believes in people’s ability to change and fix the mistakes of the past, if her desire to befriend Teruko and willingness to accept the possibility of Arei becoming friends with her as well is any indication. So, how bad did someone fuck up for Eden to say this to them? Or is this something someone else will say to Eden, similar to what I said about the Charles quote? Very unclear for now. So all I can really bring to the table for now is the thematic connection via talent :p

Levi: I always believed that a person is defined by their actions alone. But maybe that’s just a poor excuse for my heartlessness.

Do I… need to explain this one? Levi might as well have straight up said this during his 2-13 backstory drop. He feels little to no empathy, so naturally he defines people by actions alone. But he’s also admitted to not understanding people very well, so it makes sense that he’d hesitate on this belief, as he can only infer what makes a “good person” from the opinions of others. Don’t get me wrong, I do think he’s right that people are defined by actions, I’m just saying it makes sense he’s not confident in that.

Arturo: You hated them, but even that doesn’t justify what you did.

Another one that feels like it’s said to Arturo as opposed to him saying it, as the “them” in the quote could refer to his parents. “You hated your parents, but that doesn’t justify abandoning your sister”, or something like that. Without knowing the situation, it’s hard to say how fair that is, but y’know. Like with Charles, if Arturo’s meant to be the one saying this/having this attitude, then there’s still the irony that Arturo accidentally harmed someone because he hated someone else, so he’s not all that qualified to be saying this. Without more context, it’s hard to say exactly how it’ll come into play, so I’ll leave it there for now.

Min: I wanted to save you.

I actually find this one particularly interesting. One, because I’m biased. Two, because at first glance, it’s a weird thing to focus on in Min’s character. This is a line she says, so we know the full context; she’s expressing that killing Xander was a spur of the moment decision made explicitly to save Teruko, with Min choosing to cover up the murder only after she realized he’d died. 

Thing is, though… it might seem hard to call this the culmination of her character the way secret quotes like Arei’s sometimes feel like. Now, not every quote is related to the central theme of the character or anything (I would argue there’s more important things to Xander than his survivor’s guilt, for example), but… really? We didn’t have any better lines? Nothing about mistakes being corrected, per her trial 1 speech? Nothing about competition, which relates to her motive secret? Nothing about feeling like the course of her life was decided years ago when XF-Ture Tech came knocking? Just the yuri line? Alright.

However, I do think there’s some good angles you can see the line from, where you could argue it encapsulates Min growing beyond what’s expected of her talent, and those angles are why I still think this quote is pretty good overall. Mainly, you could relate it to the idea that saving Teruko is one of the most important decisions Min makes without influence from XF-Ture or Hope’s Peak. No one told her to do that, yet she decided to do it anyways. Not only that, but this represents one of the fiercest competitors in the cast participating in the killing game not to win it, but for the benefit of someone else. The quote also calls attention to her murder, which in turn leads to all her foils with Xander, which I won’t repeat here because I’ve talked like 15000 times about the ridiculous amount of ways these two foil (I’ll link to my recap foil post if you’re interested and haven’t seen it). So, despite what it may look like at first, it’s a perfectly awesome secret quote!

Yes this is just an excuse to ramble about Min. No I’m not apologizing.

David: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I wish you could just die.

Hm… I wonder what this could possibly mean. What kind of message are we supposed to get from this quote? It’s very subtle and intricate and- yeah I can drop the bit now.

This one’s very funny because of how direct it is, but it’s easy to understand. David hates someone. There’s a couple of people who he hates, so it’s easy to imagine him going off at any of them at any given time now that he’s had his heel turn. My bet’s on Teruko, though Whit and Xander (see: "I hate the things I love and I love the things I hate" LGI scene) are good dark horses in that race, maybe. Or Hu, or I could see Arturo, maybe Charles… yeah it really could be anyone lol.

If you want a more thematic reading, just... watch LGI lol. David's just a massive hater overall, makes sense this is his quote.

Veronika: Once something is broken, it can never be pieced together in quite the same way again. The same goes for people.

This one’s very intriguing. Obviously, one must ask whether she’s referring to herself being broken, or someone else, as both are possible. I’m leaning towards her talking about herself, as we know for a fact she used to be a bit of a different person in the past, both because of her motive secret (she used to self-harm and took on her talent to stop that) and because of her comments claiming she used to be a bit more outdoorsy. Thus, it follows that there may have been some kind of event in her past that changed her in what she feels is an irreversible way. Something something recap foils with Hu something something. There’s little else I can analyze here without more context on Vero, so we’re leaving it there!

J: Please don’t call me your daughter ever again.

I wonder who she’s talking about! 

Yeah obviously this is just about how much J hates her mother. Really all I can comment on is the fact that J has never outright disowned Mariabella like this in the series yet, just expressing dislike towards her mother instead of trying to deny their relationship altogether. I imagine it’s just a matter of expression and doesn’t mean anything else, but y’know, I’ll point it out just in case it comes up.

Whit: We tend to idolize the dead.

Another one about a mom! We all know how much Whit wants to be like his mother, to the point of dying his hair to look like hers, and pretending she’s still alive to the point he forgets she’s actually dead when the secret Rose received is revealed. I could see him both saying this, and this being said to him. No idea what the context will be if and when it’s said, though; a lot of people die in this series, so there’s a lot of people who could potentially get idolized lol.

Nico: Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?

Many people I think expected them to say it at some point in the second trial, with the idea that Ace was the one who made a mistake by pushing Nico's buttons and Nico wouldn’t be the one in the wrong in their mind. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. Nico owns up to their murder attempt, acknowledges it as a mistake, and outright claims not to be a victim. Thus, this cannot be the interpretation we’re meant to take with the quote, in my opinion.

Because of that, I assume this is actually referring to something else entirely. However, we have no idea what the hell that could be. Nothing we know about Nico’s backstory fits this idea, and with the Ace murder attempt out of the picture, there’s nothing in the killing game this could refer to yet. I guess maybe if someone tries to blame them for Ace killing Arei? But they all know that makes no sense, since Ace was already planning to kill Eden even before Nico tried to murder him, so probably not.

We really need more context to know what exactly this refers to, so I’ll leave it at that for now :v

MonoTV: Her name is Mai Akasaki.

This is more for ARG-y purposes, as (if I understand how this went correctly) this is how you’re supposed to get to the “All you have to do” page by typing Mai’s name in an URL, and from there the AOAVIEPKRO code for the Mai character page itself. Still, this obviously implies Mai is an important character who is likely connected to the killing game in some way; in other news, grass is green. 

Speaking of the “All you have to do” page, there is a hidden quote in that source code as well. 

Are you still searching for a secret? For some explanation that will satisfy you? There’s no answer I can give you that will make you happy. Maybe I should have lied instead. I’m sorry.

If you really want to read into it, you could argue that this implies that any truth about Mai would make us sad, presumably because her story has a sad ending; in other news, the sky is blue. 

Oh and if you’re interested in my take about the secret text which used to be in the About Page you can find it in this post here.

-

And that’s about it! These quotes are fun. Thanks for the ask! Good excuse to finally make this long overdue post lol.

[paramorerocker18]

An Ace from Beyond the Grave - Part 3

Dove had become a vigilante by force, using stealth and cunning to try and help those in the worst area of Gotham.

Or Reader doesn't know that Jason is the Red Hood. Red Hood doesn't realise that Reader is his first love from before his death. Jason doesn't know the extent of damage that his death caused.

CW: swearing, angst, reference to past abuse

Part 1

Part 2

Jason

Melanie was safe and so were the other kids. Between himself and Dove they had managed to get the kids to the nearest GCPD station. He had Lucia, a small girl of South Asian decent sat on his shoulders with Thomas carried on his left hip and Melanie attached to his right hand.

He cast a look at Dove who had tied a bandana she had stolen from one of the hench men tied around the wound on her calf and Sienna cradled in her arms. The woman was whispering words of comfort to the small girl who was clinging to her. Sienna was in a state of complete shell shock not being able to say anything other than the small admission of her name after some gentle coaxing from the female vigilante.

It was a slow trip to get to the station, Jason was starting to struggle towards the end of the journey but Dove's face had drained of all colour and she was almost dragging her wounded leg rather than walking but she did not stop.

Jason found it hard not to focus on the female vigilante that he had ended up fighting alongside. Even in what had to be serious pain, she did not stop once. At no point did she ever put Sienna down or show how injuried she was.

He had heard rumbling of a vigilante in his territory that targeted traffickers and pedophile rings bringing them down through stealth operations but the Red Hood had more pressing matters to deal with then paying attention to some small time do-gooder that wasn't threatening his business.

The two vigilantes did not speak to each other the entire journey and Jason was caught off guard when Dove did speak again.

"I am guessing you and the police don't have a great working relationship so this may be the best time for you to leave unless you feel like handing yourself over tonight," she remarked in an icy tone or at least as cold as she could pull off with the pain that was evident in her voice.

She was right of course, Jason couldn't afford to stick around. Carefully crouching down so that Thomas and Lucia could get off him. He said goodbye to the kids and then made his way to the adjacent roof top watching as Dove handed over the four kids to her police contact.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Dove

She had called Sargent Blackstone as Red Hood said goodbye to the kids.

"Jessica, it's Dove. I need your help."

"Dove, you know I'm not your personal inside man at GCPD right? You can't be calling in favours. I don't have time, I've got a trafficking ring to find and missing children to recover. I don't have time to risk my job for your whims."

"Thanks Blackstone, ever a pleasure. I have the kids you're looking for. I'm outside if you have time to help with this current whim." On that last note she cut the call.

After giving all the details and detaching Sienna from her neck Dove managed to slip away as phone calls to the children's guardians were being made. Better to cut and run as soon as she could, she knew better than to let herself become too entrenched into a case once she had involved the GCPD. Although she had tried to avoid it the Red Hood had killed the traffickers and scum of the earth were still victims in the eyes of the law.

Red Hood had disappeared sharpish at the GCPD which she was thankful for. He may have saved her but the resentment she haboured deep for the masked vigilante had not quelled by any means.

Dove didn't have a holier than thou outlook on killing, if she needed to she wouldn't hesitate. To cull the tree of the rot you have to burn the infection, she would put a bullet between the eyes of those who wouldn't reform and not lose sleep over it. What she had learnt was that people can reform and grow and some deserved that chance.

There was also the issue of staying below Batman's radar as butchered as their relationship is, she didn't care to invoke his own morals on her business. Better to only kill when necessary than have the Bat notice.

Keeping her nose clean kept him out of her life and her resentment and anger in check. It helped that Bruce wanted to ignore her existence, she only reminded of his two biggest failures.

The fact she was here in the vast hole that Jason Todd's death had ripped into their universe. The repercussions of the damage his death left behind an ugly tapestry across her skin.

She was a reminder, left behind like an infection in the wound of Jason's loss.

In the same breath Bruce was the embodiment of the absence of Jason Todd. The dull ache that shattered her. Bruce made her homesick for a life she was no longer living. The reminder of mourning for all she had lost and what had been taken from her. Not only Jason but so much more.

The thoughts of Jason raced through her like venom in her brain as she shook them away, trying to turn her thoughts away from Bats, Bruce and beatings that belonged locked away.

She realised that she had reached the roof of Leslie's clinic with a start. Not realising she was consciously going to the roof top, irritated by the irrationality of her brain's dissociative fugue at the thought of Bruce who always brought her back to him.

Now back in reality her thoughts went back to the injury sustained to her right calf. Locating the hidden medical kit that Leslie stashed for the vigilantes of Gotham to use she got to work cleaning and gluing the gash.

Her hands worked quickly, numbly with practice over years of patching herself and others up. As she began wrapping the bandage around her leg that's when she heard the modulator cut through the quiet of the roof.

Rage hit like ice through her body. The Red Hood had followed her.

"You make it a habit to pick battles you're going to lose? Three against one? Hope you don't gamble with those odds."

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Jason

What Jason wasn't expecting was the venom in which the vigilante bit back with.

"What business is it of yours Hood," she snapped the disstain in her voice piercing and she threw his name like it was a poison caught him off guard.

They had never met before, that he was sure of. He would have remembered. The Dove was intriguing to him. She wasn't a Bat, had no clear affiliation to any other Gotham teams and operated in his territory.

Most vigilantes did not bother with the Narrows or Bowery and certainly not the Hills where crime alley ran through like a scar. Dove used guns so it was not a morality issue.

He was the Red Hood he should be commanding the conversation not the other way round.

Jason didn't answer the question, she was right after all. "I want the information from the flash drive you took from the trafficking ring." He stated, it was why he had followed her and maybe curiosity to unpick the mystery of the Dove.

Jason was irritated that she had thought to still get the information and he hadn't. He was going to raze the trafficking ring that thought it could operate within his territory.

"Yeah, well too bad." This was not how Jason had expected this meeting to go, he was supposed to have the flash drive in hand on the way back to his base deciphering which low intelligence vermin dared mess with his city's children.

"We busted them together, that information was secured together. I deserve it as much as you do," Jason snapped. He sounded pathetic, this woman was making him feel off balance. The Red Hood was never off balance, he threw others stability off. "I saved you from getting yourself killed with your poor planning you owe me."

Only then did Dove's head turn to face him. No longer focusing on bandaging her wound.

"Listen to me very fucking carefully Red Hood. I owe you nothing. I never asked for your help, that was your mistake," her mouth twisted into a hard line. She stood and stormed up to him. Rage flashed across the features that were not obscured by her mask.

"Let me make myself abundantly clear so my words get through that dense Red helmet you wear," thrusting a pointed finger into his heavily armour chest.

"You are vile, I don't work with Joker wannabes who run around playing crime lord as some pitiful villain worship. He may have cursed me with my name but you taking that death worshipping piece of garbage's moniker like some kind of badge of honour disgusts me and I would rather die than be associated with the likes of you." With each sentence Dove lobbied at him she jabbed her finger into her chest to accentuate her point. She then stormed away to the ledge of the clinics roof.

"This is your only warning. You want to be the Joker so bad, I will give you a taste of the torture he hands out. Maybe that will get your rocks off. Stay away from me and I will stay out of your way," casting one last look his way before dropping down the attached fire escape.

Jason stood there frozen in shock at the verbal lashing he had just received. At least he had managed to attach the tracking bug to her utility belt whilst she beat her words into him.

Questions raced through his mind like whiplash. What did she mean Joker had cursed her with the name Dove.

She thought he had taken the name Red Hood as an homage to the Joker and had a rage that rivalled his own towards the twisted clown of Gotham.

Why was Jason still getting cut by the shards of damage that Joker had left in his wake?

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

A/N love me some angst sorry about that

[plumpitlouder]

Back from beyond the grave to draw Jon for ace week

[goodqueenaly]

Say hypothetically Jaime died or was killed while serving in the kingsguard anytime before Tyrion is convinced as a traitor. Who do you think Tywin would prefer to inherit the rock in that scenario, since he's made both his feelings on women's roles and on Tyrion very clear? Who do you think would actually stand a better chance (since Tywin cannot change the legal succession from beyond the grave)? Does it depend on where they are in the time line regarding Cersei's marriage?

A hypothetical covering the span of Jaime’s service in the Kingsguard “anytime before Tyrion is convinced as a traitor” is a pretty long period indeed; we’re talking about a stretch of time from 15-year-old Jaime’s investiture in 281 AC to Tyrion’s trial in 300 AC. (Let’s not even mention the numerous momentous events in Westerosi history in this period of time, much less the absence of Jaime at any given point would have had on these events.) So, all else aside, I think it would be very dependent on when specifically Jaime died in this scenario as to what Tywin might have done about his own succession.

If Jaime died prior to or during Robert’s Rebellion (again, let’s put aside Jaime’s very significant action at the end of the Rebellion), then I think Tywin would have had to consider whether he wanted to remarry. While Tywin IOTL never considered and would never have considered remarrying himself, he could take this decision secure in (what he believed was) the knowledge that he had his perfect golden heir, Jaime. However, without that perfect heir in his pocket, so to speak, Tywin may have felt more pressured to take a new wife, so that he could have a (male, able-bodied) heir of his own body. Would Tywin have looked to another wife, perhaps in particular another Lannister (like, say, one of Joanna’s younger sisters, or one of the daughters of Joanna’s brother Stafford, or his cousin Damon’s granddaughter Lanna, assuming any were the right age), in order to produce another perfect Lannister male heir? It’s at least possible. (How naming the son of a second wife as his heir would have been affected by the Widow’s Law is of course a completely unanswerable question.) 

Alternatively, Tywin may have looked to Cersei as the producer of his eventual heir. Admittedly, such a plan might have clashed with Tywin’s royal ambitions for Cersei, but between the throne and Casterly Rock, I think Tywin may well have chosen the latter. While I doubt Tywin would have seriously invested in Cersei as a future lady in her own right (any more than he did in Cersei as a queen and future queen mother and regent), I could see Tywin seeing Cersei as an acceptable Lannister broodmare, through which his own precious (to him) bloodline could be preserved and produced in an acceptable (read: male) heir. (Again, it’s far too speculative to determine whom Tywin might have chosen as Cersei’s husband, but I could see a Lannister kinsman like cousin Daven or even uncle Tyrek being selected to reinforce Tywin’s Lannister superiority.)

If Jaime died after Robert’s Rebellion but before the death of Joffrey, then I could see where Tywin would simply have seized Tommen from Cersei and raised him as a Lannister heir. There would have been some historical precedent for this, with Lucerys Velaryon being in his lifetime his “grandfather” Corlys’ heir as (ostensibly) the second son of Corlys’ late son, Laenor. With Joffrey assumed to inherit the Iron Throne, Tywin would have, in a sense, the large-scale Lannister political domination he had attempted to achieve in ASOS (notably expressed through the twin Valyrian steel swords made from Ice): the King on the Iron Throne and the Lord of Casterly Rock as the two heads of the Lannister family, inextricably binding the throne to House Lannister in perpetuity.  

If Jaime died in the short window between the Purple Wedding and Tyrion losing his trial by combat, then I think Tywin would have had to choose (or at least believed he had to choose) between versions of the above. Given that Tywin IOTL was ready to taking the new King Tommen back to the Rock to “learn to be a Lannister”, I could see Tywin perhaps simply naming Tommen his heir and installing him at an official or de facto new royal court at the Rock (something along what he had done during Aerys II's reign), fully merging the identities of the royal dynasty and House Lannister as he had begun to ahead of Joffrey’s wedding. Tywin may also have pushed the idea of Cersei’s remarriage even harder in this scenario, which he was already beginning to do IOTL (though whether he would have been so eager to wed her to Oberyn Martell, his preferred choice in ASOS, with Oberyn now poised to father the next generation of Lannister heirs is a more speculative question). Tywin may even have decided that when Tommen had sons of his own, the second son would inherit Casterly Rock - though this succession idea may have been too uncertain for Tywin’s taste, given that Tommen was probably the better part of a decade away from fathering multiple sons of his own (let’s put aside Cregan Stark’s apparent willingness to bet on a similar potential through the Pact of Ice and Fire).

About the only certain takeaway I think we can have in any version of this scenario is that Tywin would have done everything in his power to keep Casterly Rock out of Tyrion’s hands. While Tywin may not have gone quite so far as forcing Tyrion into the Faith, Citadel, or Night’s Watch - Tywin’s obsessive focus on Lannister exceptionalism (and the primacy of his own line within that) meaning that even the lowest and least of the main-line Lannisters, as he saw Tyrion, was superior in rank to every other aristocrat, and so unfit for a life of servitude - I very much believe Tywin would never admit that Tyrion had any right to Casterly Rock (much less the best claim as the most senior eligible legitimate male descendant of Tywin even IOTL).