#I see him using his sister as a motivation in a sense

[nonam-vi]

My Alec Huntsman Characterization

With how similar Alec's and Yumi's home lives are kinda, it's a bit tricky for me to put everything down onto paper while still making them distinct + make sense, but taking inspiration from my own real life issues and experience with living with a dysfunctional family, I think I might have something for him.

Let's see here...

When Alec was young (think 8-10 years old) his mother started coming home very late after doing, god knows what. Sometimes she'd even be gone for days, weeks at the worst. Leaving him and the rest of his family to worry, and stress about where she had gone to.

As a result of this she would start to oversleep and miss work, later on losing her job, giving even her more reasons to be self destructive. Basically neglecting Alec and Aly, only when their wasn't dad around. This left Alec having to step up as Aly's parental figure with their dad working all the time, cooking breakfast and helping her with homework, sometimes even neglecting his own life in favor of her's. Because in his mind, she actually has a chance.

This took a LARGE toll on Alec's mental and emotional state, leaving him tired and irritated most of the time. As a way to cope with all this inner turmoil, Alec started to throw himself into his work. Oftentimes working overtime, just so he'd have a reason not go back home. So he wouldn't have to think about his issues. So he wouldn't have to think about anything at all.

He never wanted to distance himself from his friends. Not at all. He's just been so busy taking care of his family, working after school to help provide for them, doing so much for them that he'd prioritize them over all else, that when Kyran had confronted him about everything had-

Exploded.

All the anguish, all the pain, all the anger, he wasn't ALLOWED to feel because of course he wasn't allowed to, it was his RESPONSIBILITY as a good son, he had to do this, Kyran just doesn't understand, why would he? He has everything, STILL has everything. Why him? Why? Why why why-

Kyran, stopped talking to him after that.

Alec mourns. He mourns the days where he could walk into the dining room at night and be met with his family, eating and laughing. Instead of coming home (at 2 AM) met with a dark, quiet house, Aly the only one asleep inside her bedroom. With no parents to be found.

At least, he still has her.

If only he was a better brother, a better son, a better man. If only.

[dunmesh]

this panel from the world guide of falin being surrounded by other girls while laios is all alone kills me because. that's it. that's the key difference in their journeys.

as laios states himself, he left the village in order to create a home for him and falin elsewhere. a home that won't collapse due to others' hatred and fears like their old home did, a home where they are loved and accepted unconditionally. but as he soon found out, even before earning money, or having walls surrounding him and a roof above his head- what he so earnestly desired was to meet other people who will accept him for who he is as well. instead, he kept being tormented by those around him, shunned and sneered at. his loneliness quickly became all-consuming until he truly had nothing left except for the monsters in the pages of his book, but even that became a target of mockery and destroyed. that's why ever since the day he left the village, he never felt that he truly made the right choice. so he kept running away: unable to resist and unable to accpet.

and an ocean away from him there was his sister, who never managed to fully fit in herself. but unlike him, she met a person who became a home to her and learned what a true friendship was for the first time in her life. and laios clearly realizes that too when he finally sees falin and marcille together, he can tell his sister obtained the greatest treasure there is on her own- the exact thing he never managed to find anywhere himself, thus coming back empty-handed to the sister he left the village for.

but when you read this part of the manga, laios's focus is on falin's loneliness, not his own. he talks about how it hurts thinking about all those moments she had to spend alone because he wasn't there for her, so it almost sounds like he's the one who couldn't bear her suffering and therefore decided to not let her go again. but we do get a glimpse of their first meeting after that almost-decade long separation in the manga, and then we see more of that in the world guide and daydream hour- and it becomes abundantly clear that it was falin who was trying to protect and save him from this pit of loneliness and depression he was in.

so instead of just doing his best to atone for leaving her behind in the village and making sure she is never lonely again, it might also be that laios was desperately clinging to the one person in the world he felt that accepted and loved him unconditionally. those words he used to describe his motivation to stay by falin's side are the exact words she would've used as well; she couldn't bear leaving him behind in this state. in a sense, they were each other's shackles.

but then she did. she died for him and their friends, and ironically enough, it was by leaving him alone like this that he was finally able to stand on his own and put his full trust in others. to have the courage to reveal who he is and give others the opportunity to accept him after such a long time of hiding. it was a long journey, but his hiding finally came to an end when he faced the others after shedding his monster form. and i love that the person who was falin's "home" all those years away from laios, marcille, became just as meaningful to him during their time separated from falin- the first one to find him and show him that he isn't alone anymore. just as he did for her.

so at the end of the story when falin talks about all the places she would like to go, it's not just that she wants to pursue her own dreams- but that she actually feels free to do so and go anywhere she desires. and one of the main reasons for that is that her brother finally found new people he wants to be with; his own home.

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[ave-cave]

In Defense of Mahiru's Last Words

An aspect of 2-2 that I think a lot of fans get wrong is Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko. I’d go so far as to call them the most misunderstood last words in the series. Her role in the second case is often overlooked in favor of Peko and Fuyuhiko's, and this line encapsulates said role, so I figured I'd try to dispel the misconceptions that surround it. Cool? Cool.

---

First thing’s first, my thesis statement (lol): in response to the well-worn criticism that Mahiru’s last words to Fuyuhiko were hypocritical, I’ll grant fans this much: her words were shortsighted and poorly-timed. They weren’t, however, hypocritical.

More often than not when I see people refer to Mahiru’s last words as hypocritical, they mean that she's condemning Fuyuhiko for avenging his sister, meanwhile her friend who committed an act of revenge received her protection. My issue with this? Sato’s murder of Natsumi wasn’t revenge. The fourth and final day of Twilight Syndrome Murder Case (which Mahiru played) has Sato explain in depth why she did what she did. She didn’t confront Natsumi with the intent to kill her; she only wanted to talk at first. But when Natsumi began making threats, she saw red and accidentally knocked her out. Knowing how dire the consequences would be if Natsumi woke up and tattled to her family, Sato killed her and pinned the crime on a rumored pervert. This is further highlighted in the trial. Now, don’t get me wrong, Sato is still to blame here. No matter how much shit Natsumi was talking, she shouldn’t have responded with violence, and she found herself in that situation through every fault of her own. But the key thing is that it wasn’t revenge; it was desperation. By the time Natsumi fell unconscious, it was Sato who was trying to avoid becoming the victim of yakuza “justice.”

Recall that the incriminating evidence Mahiru got rid of was a picture of a broken vase. To anyone who wasn’t there the day of the incident, a photo of this nature would prove basically nothing. Sure, one could surmise that it means the killer didn’t actually escape through the window, but figuring out what they did do, and by extension who they are, would require having run into Sato in the hall (given it isn’t brought up at any point, it’s unlikely there was security footage.) The only people to whom it would mean anything – and the only ones with any incentive to uncover the truth – were the police and the yakuza.

Mahiru protecting Sato from the police wouldn't make much sense at all. Blind loyalty toward her friends – to the point of helping them escape consequences for their actions – isn’t a trait she showcases in the main game. Sure, there are a few classmates she shows extra care toward (she’s particularly concerned for Mikan, and she offers to help Hiyoko when the latter is struggling with her kimono), but unraveling the mysteries of the killing game takes first priority for her at the end of the day. Moreover, in Twilight Syndrome, before she realizes that Sato is the killer, she takes pictures of Natsumi's body in the hopes that they'll be useful to the police (this obviously isn't the smartest move, but it's in-character: Mahiru is someone who's always trying to do the right thing despite her lack of self-confidence. She feels guilty about not reporting Natsumi’s body, and so she figures that utilizing her talent is the next best thing. We see her do something similar in 2-1.) Going from “I need to help the police find the culprit” to “my friend is the culprit; time to destroy the evidence” is a dramatic shift – one that doesn't line up with anything else we know about Mahiru.

What's a trait she does showcase in the main game? Distaste for cruel and unusual punishment. She sympathizes with Teruteru’s motive, denouncing Monokuma for tempting him, and she criticizes Nekomaru and Kazuichi for hogtying and isolating Nagito, before eventually bringing him food. The second example is especially noteworthy. Nagito got both the Imposter and Teruteru killed – he's an unstable individual, no two ways about it. Mahiru doesn't object to his being restrained; she objects to the over-the-top, vigilante-style methods used by Nekomaru and Kazuichi to do so. There's clearly a parallel to be drawn between this and Twilight Syndrome. If she's so against Nagito – a murderer who isn't her friend – receiving inhumane treatment, then there's no question she'd be against it for Sato, a murderer who is.

It's reasonable to assume that, when Mahiru realized the truth of the incident, she destroyed the evidence for the same reason Sato committed murder in the first place: she knew that, if it got into yakuza hands, there would be hell to pay. She wasn’t too far off the mark, either. There were already rumors going around that Sato was with Natsumi the day of the latter’s murder, and so all it took for Fuyuhiko to connect the dots was finding the sole intact copy of the photo that Sato left behind (Mahiru needed at least one if she wanted to corner Sato and coax a confession from her; she obviously couldn't have anticipated that it would be absconded with.) All things considered, Sato was lucky to have only been killed, as the yakuza are capable of much, much worse.

Mahiru didn’t think what Sato did was right. Far from it; she was shocked and horrified when her suspicions turned out to be true. Furthermore, even outside of the TSMC, she believes her covering for Sato is something to atone for, which automatically requires thinking Sato was wrong. But if it was within her power to throw the mafia off Sato’s trail, she absolutely would, including by decidedly immoral means. You don’t have to condone murder to not want your friend to be kidnapped and tortured.

When Mahiru asserts during her final confrontation with Fuyuhiko that “no one has the right to judge others for their crimes,” “judge” is another way of saying “take revenge on.” Think the phrase “playing judge, jury and executioner.” Fuyuhiko judged Sato as deserving of death for her crime, and carried out that judgment by murdering her. That’s what Mahiru is condemning. She’s not dismissing his loss – she acknowledges that his sister’s murder was terrible. She’s saying it didn’t give him the right to become a murderer as well. This isn’t hypocritical; it’s perfectly consistent with her actions in the TSMC. She never took revenge on anyone, nor did she protect another’s act of revenge. She was trying to prevent revenge from the start.

That said, Mahiru isn’t above reproach (if she were, none of this would be happening to begin with.) Though I stand firm that she had every right to be angry here, I can appreciate that Fuyuhiko did, too.

Mahiru went into the beach house intending to figure out how to atone for a sin she couldn’t remember committing. Fuyuhiko went into the beach house intending to kill Mahiru as further revenge for Natsumi. Thing is, Fuyuhiko isn’t a cold-blooded killer. He thinks he's supposed to be, but deep down he’s conflicted. And so, to cope, he has an out: if Mahiru denies the game's reality, he'll call off the plan. He’ll spare her. More than anything, he just wants to believe that none of it happened; his sister isn't dead and Mahiru didn't cover for her killer. But it's too late to hope for denial. He'd already accused Mahiru of the cover-up and sent her the photos as proof, and she’d been taking it very seriously ever since. The threatening letter he left her, combined with her knowledge of the game’s true ending, would have been more than enough to convince the others to apprehend him like Kazuichi wanted – not to mention the most obvious thing to do for her own protection. And yet from the moment she received the letter, the only thing on her mind was making amends. There was no going back.

These conflicting goals are a recipe for disaster. Fuyuhiko, who had initially compelled Mahiru to face her sin, is now wanting her to deny that the events of the game ever took place. Mahiru, who came for help collecting her thoughts, is now face-to-face with the very person she needed to prepare to talk to. Keyword: prepare. Again, the important thing to understand about Mahiru is that, despite her headstrong attitude and emphasis on “doing the right thing,” she doesn’t always know what the right thing is. She lacks the confidence necessary to support her levelheadedness, and so she agonizes and deliberates. Instances of this include:

When she stays quiet as Hiyoko berates Teruteru, claiming he deserved to die, only to come to terms with the issue later (main game).

When she’s implied to spend the night awake pondering what to do about the Twilight Syndrome motive (main game).

When she waits several days before getting rid of the vase picture, showing that she didn't take the decision lightly (TSMC).

When she ruminates over how best to make amends with Fuyuhiko, leading him to think she’s avoiding him (main game).

The fact that, in the TSMC, Mahiru finds herself in a situation that tests her moral compass is what makes her involvement in the case compelling. She’s not someone who believes the ends justify the means, and yet all of a sudden she’s thrust into a scenario where they have to – where “the right thing” (not destroying the evidence) and “the wrong thing” (letting Sato suffer and/or die) intersect. No wonder she handles the entire thing so clumsily; it’s completely foreign to her.

Now consider this situation. Mahiru has been lured to a secluded area. She never got the chance to talk things through with the other girls and hasn’t the first clue about how to make amends. Fuyuhiko has proven that he isn’t all bark and no bite and could actually hurt her if provoked. Hiyoko is nowhere to be found; who’s to say Fuyuhiko hasn’t killed or severely harmed her? It’s a perfect storm of stress. Needless to say, the interaction is already doomed.

Said interaction starts when Mahiru, treating the game as though it were real, asks if Fuyuhiko killed Girl E. At this, Fuyuhiko is furious. But wait… this whole thing started because Fuyuhiko accused her of being an accomplice to his sister's murder, and yet now, when she's asking about what he did in the game, he says he doesn't want to hear it? When she says he shouldn’t have killed Girl E, he replies that nobody cares? How does this sound to Mahiru? A man who doesn't think he did anything wrong, refusing to accept responsibility? Only at this point does she get angry.

On the other hand, from Fuyuhiko's perspective, Mahiru had been avoiding him ever since he left her that letter, and so the fact that she isn't answering his questions is insulting. Even though he'd already decided on revenge, he’s giving her a chance to avoid the fate he had planned for her altogether, simply by saying she doesn’t remember anything from the game or believe that it happened. Yet not only is she doing the opposite of that, the girl who supposedly tried to protect his sister's killer is claiming that he was also wrong. His anger skyrockets.

All in all, it’s pretty easy to understand where both of them were coming from. In Mahiru’s efforts to protect her friend from revenge, she prevented Fuyuhiko from getting justice for Natsumi in any capacity. There was no way the authorities would believe him, a member of the criminal underworld, over a seemingly normal high school girl – not without evidence. Sure, a picture of a vase wasn’t substantial, but it was something, and she got rid of it. Meanwhile, if Fuyuhiko hadn’t been out for blood, Mahiru wouldn’t have felt the need to destroy the evidence to begin with. In other words, they both felt they had no choice but to do what they did – Mahiru to cover things up, Fuyuhiko to kill. Their goals clashed at nearly every turn.

Mahiru messed up – that I won’t deny. She lost her cool and chastised Fuyuhiko while he was in the middle of interrogating her about his sister. She shouldn't have done that – not because she didn't have a point, but because it wasn't the right time. Chances are if she’d kept treating the game as real, she still would have angered him enough to convince Peko it was necessary to step in, but straight-up condemning his actions more or less sealed her fate. It’s almost ironic how her go-to method of yelling at people to do better led to her death in this instance. Keep in mind, though, it was Fuyuhiko who put her in that position to begin with. He backed her into a corner, deprived her of the chance to think things through and expected her to simply… read his mind and say what he wanted her to say so that he could find an excuse not to kill her. That’s why I don’t think it’s fair to claim she brought her death entirely on herself.

Moreover, her last words in and of themselves weren’t off-target. Fuyuhiko spends nearly the rest of the game trying to atone for rushing into revenge. He realizes that Mahiru was right; “an eye for an eye” is a flawed credo, and it’s through this that he manages to earn the forgiveness of all of his classmates, even Hiyoko. Losing Peko might have been what ultimately springboarded his development, but Mahiru’s contribution shouldn’t be understated. Hell, the scenario of Mahiru's death echoes some of Goodbye Despair’s most important themes, namely restoration over retribution and being punished for a forgotten sin. The mindset that certain people deserve to die for their crimes is what leads to much of the cast’s misery, and ultimately the opposite philosophy is what saves them.

Thanks for reading :)

[thewistlingbadger]

I'm going to be honest: I think one of the ways you fix season 2 is by getting rid of Warwick

Act 2 was more or less entirely dedicated to Warwick, a new character who really isn't that new bc he's actually Vander from s1. Despite the fact that he plays a heavy role in the act, his character isn't explored at all. Warwick is used in act 2 for the main purpose of reuniting Jinx and Vi. The sisters end up basically ignoring all their problems and differences and become family again solely due to Warwick's presence. If you get rid of Warwick, then the sisters don't reunite. They either stay on opposing sides or they end up reconciling later in the show, most likely due to them developing some sort of understanding for the other and by actually exploring their baggage.

Warwick is tied to Singed in this season, and through him and Viktor he's tied to Ambessa. Half of the plot in act 2 is Ambessa trying to find Warwick by using Singed to turn Warwick into the ultimate weapon. This part of the show was kinda weird and it definitely took away from the plot. If you get rid of Warwick you can actually focus on ambessa and her motives, or on ambessa and Caitlyn since their relationship is established but not developed.

The sisters end up bringing Warwick to Viktor's commune, which is how Viktor gets reintroduced to the story after not being seen for several episodes. Viktor decides to attempt to heal Warwick, but it isn't said why. We learn that Viktor's powers are suffering and that the commune isn't all that it seems, but we never get to learn anything further bc this segment isn't focused on Viktor- it's focused on Warwick. If you get rid of Warwick, you could actually focus on Viktor, his powers, his commune, his relationship with sky and the hexcore, and his motives.

At the start of act 2, we see that Vi is in a really bad place. She's fighting a lot, getting wasted, and isn't taking care of herself. We see that she has a friendship with Loris as well. However, we're not able to explore Vi's friendship or her current situation or her character bc shortly after Jinx asks Vi to help her with Warwick. If Warwick is gone then you can actually focus on Vi as a character and unpack all the shit the show has built up.

At the start of act 2, we see there's a lot of unrest in zaun. We see zaunites starting to band together and view Jinx as a symbol. This is a really cool concept that isn't explored because instead of Jinx spending the act with other zaunites, she spends it with Warwick. If Warwick is gone then we could actually explore the current politics between zaun and piltover and the effects they have.

It really doesn't make sense to have Warwick be the center of the act when he's not a main character. Hell, he isn't a character at all. He's a plot device. Literally almost everything that happens in act 2 is somehow related to him, yet he has no arch in the season. Everything he does just adds to the plot, not to the value of the story. We end up getting the most random piece of lore dropped in the middle of the season because of him. Lore that literally wasn't relevant at all to what was going on in the show and was never brought up again. I understand that season 1 hinted at Warwick being Vander but if it were up to me I'd be prioritizing the other, much more important shit that s1 set up. Not fucking Warwick. Especially since he's just Vander, an excellent character that we were done with at the start of the first season. There's no reason for him to be back. Since act two is so centered on him, the other acts had to condense and become jammed packed full of shit. But if you get rid of Warwick, you give the story space to breathe. You could have things stretched out longer and in more detail because now you have the time to! You can go into the gray and Caitlyn's dictator arc in detail because now you don't have to worry about wrapping it up before Warwick shows up.

Warwick was literally so big in the show that he took away time and development from literally every character, but especially mel, jayce, ekko, heimerdinger, and Viktor, who were rarely seen this season despite being key players from season 1. If Warwick was gone, you could actually show what happened to ekko, Jayce, and heimerdinger before act 3. You could give ekko some much needed depth and screen time. You could actually explain the black rose, which is never explained throughout the entirety of the show. You could have had Ambessa's backstory be in the show and not its own separate music video. You could have showed Mel more. If Warwick was gone, you could actually explore the characters of Caitlyn and Vi and their relationship. You could explore Sevika's character, who got pushed to the side despite her promising start. You could explore Isha as a character. You could explore lest as a character, who was introduced and then completely forgotten. You could have expanded on the chem barons instead of glossing over them.

In general, if Warwick isn't around you just have more time to do more shit. Like holy shit this is actually crazy.

[rmbunnie]

It's most likely just Starlin trying to get to Jason dying faster because he did not like Robin, but the whole "Jason's spiraling because of his grief for his parents" thing they were trying to spin was honestly really weird, not supported by the rest of the run INCLUDING the parts Starlin wrote, and kinda reads like an unreliable narrator situation because all of the information supporting it is given through Bruce's narration, him speculating on Jason's thoughts and actions.

The plot thread of Jason's grief for his family affecting his behavior shows up like TWO issues after Jason first becomes Robin back when Collins was writing, and gets sorted out after one conversation where Jason gets to confront Bruce about hiding his father's death from him for 6 months. After that Jason is behaving normally until they encounter three predators in a row, and each time Bruce insists that they can't do anything because of The Rules and assorted red tape/diplomatic immunity plotlines. (The sister of a woman who got dismembered actually tricked the violent-misogynist killer who dismembered her sister (and then got his serial killings dismissed through a technicality) into attacking her, and ends up killing him in self-defense, and then Jason's like "seems fair" and Bruce is like "no. it's NOT. we need to follow laws and not take justice into our own hands. which like wtf Bruce! you are a vigilante who just used a custom tank to fight an evil televangelist! who then got ripped to shreds by his followers while you watched!)

Bruce kinda just decides with Alfred that it must be grief upsetting him and not the dozens of brutally killed women and their predatory killers who the law inexplicably protected, (all written by Starlin, so retconning it for DitF like five issues later would be an odd move) but the only text claiming that's why Jason was upset is from Bruce's POV and through Alfred's dialogue. Jason himself doesn't display any signs of grief in the story itself, or even act or speak in a way that alludes to Catherine and Willis beyond looking at a picture of them and smiling fondly while he sorts through their possessions. He kinda just happens upon the box with his mother's info by chance, and is like ok i guess we're doing mom searches now. He was only going for a walk through his old neighborhood, not actively searching out info on his family. When Jason is deciding whether or not to run off without telling Bruce, he considers telling him and then goes "no, all he cares about is being Batman, he wouldn't even understand why I want to see my mom." Which, I mean, "Bruce wouldn't get it" is a REALLY odd angle if the sole motivator for spiraling, then getting benched* and running away to search out his bio-mom, was because he was mourning his dead parents, a thing he notably has in common with Bruce. That statement only really makes sense if he's thinking about a different thing that was greatly upsetting to him that Bruce brushed past, like maybe a combo of hiding the murder of his dad for half a year and allowing several cases involving sexual violence to freely develop body counts in the name of the law.

Lots of people have written about how Jason's stay in the manor might have seemed dependent on being Robin with how he was kinda just scooped up, but (if we're including Detective Comics in our characterization,) Bruce had offered to let him resign from Robin and just live with him (a little late, but still. It's worth noting Batman proper shows Jason afraid and uncomfortable at the thought of Dick taking Robin back, which lends more merit to the housing-dependent-on-Robin-misunderstanding interpretation, but canon is pick and choose anyways.) The lack of trust involved in his choice to search out his mom kinda reads like it was bred by more than that alone, and Bruce's prioritization of the law over the protection of the people it ignores is notably upsetting to him in the prior issues. tbh I really do believe the outcomes of those cases could have informed Jason's stance that Bruce's method of justice is ineffective right alongside his own murder and his experiences in Lost Days.

It would make sense for Bruce to not consider his own actions while he's thinking through things that would upset Jason, because from his point of view the things there that were bothering Jason were the criminals alone, not the way that the methods with which they were approaching their crimes continually led to the perpetrators evading actual justice. During the point in DitF where he's thinking through motivations for Jason's running away because something isn't adding up for HIM, the idea doesn't so much as cross his mind. It would also add another layer to Jason's sulkiness upon Bruce's arrival if he held the belief that Bruce is ignoring the consequences his brand of justice has on victims (and the way it's affecting him to helplessly watch it play out), starts to hope that Bruce actually can understand his thought processes/relate to him when he shows up, only to be told to his face that Bruce is prioritizing his style of justice over Jason again. With the way everything that led Jason to his bio-mom was comically circumstantial and the context of the previous issues, it's kind of the ONLY way Death in the Family makes sense to me. Tldr: I feel like the grief claimed as reasoning for Jason's actions leading up to his death is mainly speculation from Bruce and Alfred and the more textually-supported reason for his erratic behavior and lack of trust in Bruce is the lack of intervention in several sensitive cases that led them to worsen unobstructed and eventually permitted them to escalate into casualties in 2 out of 3 cases.

*Also, side note, but the idea that Jason got benched for the Filipe situation, while perfectly reasonable, is not quite spot on. The Filipe situation escalated into the fight in the junkyard where his dad is crushed by a car and Bruce is all "everything you do has consequences" which is kinda big words for a guy whose lack of action indirectly lead to a girls death earlier in the storyline, but true. Jason actally gets benched because he jumps directly into gunfire while fighting the third set of predators and Bruce starts to worry he's getting a little suicidal with it. He baits a guy into shooting at him on purpose again trying to protect mom prospect number 1 later on in DitF, so Bruce might have had a point with that one.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that’s not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The cafe is not very busy. You’re relieved. It’s been a strange morning. Jada offered to make you coffee. After last night, her kindness is even more suspicious. It’s not like her to do anything without a motive. 

You sit and mull her sudden change in attitude. There’s only one thing’s that changed that makes any sense. This is about Thor! She knows you went berry picking with him and then you went to his house. She recognised him before you did and even now, you don’t really know too much about what makes him so famous. 

Jada always said she hated having you as her hanger-on. That she couldn’t wait to be rid of you. She’s only jealous because you made a friend better than any of hers. That has to be it. Mystery solved! 

You’re not stupid enough to tell her off to her face. If anything, your sister is spiteful. Maybe, just for now, you’ll accept her little favours. After all, for as mean as she’s been, you deserve a bit of peace. And she’ll deserve the tiny taste of vengeance when you don’t let her use you to get close to Thor. 

You stare out the window, one hand on your mug, a cinnamon latte dolloped in cream, and your other under your chin. It’s not a bad day out. Sunny. It takes you back to the gazebo and the birds. You wonder what Queenie’s doing. Should you message her? You don’t want to smother her. 

“Pardon, is this seat taken?” The silky timbre brings you upright in your chair. 

A smile breaks across your face, “Loki! What are you doing here?” 

His cheek ticks, “may I sit?” 

“Oh, of course,” you pull your mug closer. 

He lowers himself into the seat across from you. He has a paper cup in hand, black coffee darkening the interior. He sniffs and looks down his nose at your drink. 

“What is that monstrosity?” 

“Cinnamon bun latte!” You explain. “It’s delicious.” 

“Full of sugar,” he girds. 

“I don’t like bitter coffee,” you grimace. 

“Then you don’t like coffee,” he rebukes. 

“Not really. I’m aware of my caffeine addiction,” you shrug. “I’m so happy to see you. What are the odds?” 

His green eyes flick dulcetly to your face, “it is not by chance. My brother’s... companion requires company.” 

“Queenie?” You brighten up. He nods and hums. “Oh, I was just thinking of her.” 

“How convenient,” he slithers. 

Silence swells between you. You sip your latte to stave of the tension as he watches. His gaze is intense, it makes you want to melt. You know he’s judging you. 

You touch your nose, “do I have cream?” 

One corner of his mouth curves, “no cream.” 

“Mm, okay,” you pout. 

“You don’t happen to be hiding from your sister? Did she cause you more trouble?” He wonders as his eyes narrow. 

“Jada? No, she’s been... weird.” 

“Hm,” he nods. “Would you prefer to stay and finish or shall we be on our way?” 

“Oh, uh, if you’d rather go now, sure,” you stand and knock the table. The latte tips and splashes your shirt and pants. 

You pick it up but too late. Most of it is gone and you’re soaked. Loki moves so quick, you think he’s running away in humiliation. He simply swipes up a handful of napkins from the counter and returns to you. You thank him as you take a few and dab at your clothing. 

“I can be so clumsy,” you mope. “Sorry.” 

“Are you burned?” He leans over you as he watches you sop up the mess. 

“No, I’m okay. There was so much sugary cream that it wasn’t very hot,” you look up at him with a grin. His brows draw together at your joke. 

“Mm, you are clever when you want to be. Would you like a replacement before we’re off?” 

“No, it’s fine. I think maybe the universe agrees with you. I don’t need it.” You take more napkins and press them to the fabric until you’re mostly dry. 

“I could drive you to your home if you require a change.” 

“That’s a lot of back and forth. I’ll survive a bit of damp clothing.” 

“It will stain, won’t it?” 

You look down at the floral fabric and the matching purple pants. It might but you’ll just be with Queenie. She won’t mind. 

“Just clothes,” you shrug. 

He clucks, “very well, I suppose.” 

He brushes by you and wipes off the table top. The smell of cinnamon stirs with your efforts. A barista approaches with a roll of paper towel. 

“Here,” she smiles, “we’re making you a new drink.” 

“What? You don’t have to,” you take the roll. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. You’re here all the time.” She says, “don’t worry too much, we have a mop. We can get the rest.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks, again,” you babble. 

She goes back to the counter and you turn back to Loki as he watches her goes. He wears a pensive expression. “You make rather a lot of friends wherever you go.” 

“Friends? She’s just being nice,” you say. “Like me. I try to, anyway.” 

He says nothing and bunches up the wet napkin. He opens his hand to take yours and you give them over. He takes them to the bin and dumps them. You gather up your purse and empty cup and follow. You drop it in as they call your name at the counter. 

You go over and take your new drink, “thank you so so much.” 

“Have a good day,” the barista trills. 

You grin and turn to Loki as he takes his cup from the table and meets you at the door. He opens it for you and you thank him. You bop toward your house and he huffs. 

“Wrong way,” he reproaches. 

You stop and turn back to him, “oops. Habit. Oh, I see your car.” You point past him and scurry over. “Did I tell you how much I love that colour? Green is such a... regal colour, don’t you think?” 

“Regal?” He echoes. 

“Oh sure; jade, forest, emerald, even citrine has a certain vibe.” 

“Vibe...” he drawls. 

“Oop, I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. I know you prefer silence.” You touch your mouth apologetically. “I’ll zip it.” You pretend to turn a key and put it in your pocket.  

You peek over at his slightly less agitated expression. Jada is sometimes mean for no reason but she is right that you talk a bit too much. You smile and he turns his attention to the path ahead. 

“I don’t mind conversation,” he says. “So long as it isn’t inane.” 

[admirationandromantics]

Hyper-dependent

Okay, this was a request, and I feel like I'm slowly getting my flow back. Sorry to say, but I have deleted some of the requests because I just didn't feel motivated to do them. This doesn't mean that I'll stop! I appreciate every one I get, and I hope to receive more as time goes on.

This one is quite angsty, and deals with Josh's trauma after the mountain. Yes, you are basically emotional support. You're dating, he feel bad (of course) and nightmares regularly haunt him. There's also smut because of the request (and some people cope that way I guess). Anyways, enjoy <3

The events of the cabin were long over, and luckily, everyone survived. I don’t know how, and I didn’t think we would, but somehow, it happened. Josh was stuck down in the mines for a while. Days… I wasn’t allowed to search for him with the professionals, but I was the first one who got to see him at the hospital. His parents arrived shortly after as well, and they were glad that he was okay. He moved home for a couple of weeks, but came back in with me when the health professionals told him it was possible. I couldn’t wait. They told me it would be a lot of work, and sometimes, he has really bad days. I understood their concern, but I wanted him, I wanted him back. And maybe getting back to the usual routine would do him good? 

They were right. The days that were bad were horrible. Hours upon hours of crying and screaming. He exhausted himself at the end, finally falling into my arms and falling asleep. I knew he still mourned his sisters, but the monsters upon that mountain made him terrified. Sometimes he hid a knife under the bed, paranoid that they’d come for him. I still did my best to help him, even though I struggled myself. These events affected all of us after all. That’s what made it worse, I couldn’t even talk to them about it. They struggled as well, and many just wanted to put the events behind them. 

***

“I fucked up” Josh whispers beside me. It’s the middle of the night, and due to his violent sleep, I haven’t been able to relax. 

“It’s okay” I put my hand on his cheek, caressing carefully and grounding him. The most important thing is that he stays grounded, that he doesn’t do worse in a panicky state. 

“What if they come for me? What if they come for you?” 

“They won’t, I promise” 

He looks up at me, worried and concerned. He doesn’t seem that bad now. More like in a processing phase. He just needs some reassurance. 

“Are you sure” 

I smile, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt. Well, Josh’s shirt, but it was the perfect sleeping wear. If he needed reassurance, then he would get it. After all, I was not supporting the whole ‘being prepared for death’-thing he had going. I could sleep in a vulnerable position, confident that nothing would happen while I did. I mean, it makes sense in my head. 

“I’m so sure that I’ll sleep naked. Know why?” 

“Because they’re not coming tonight?” 

“Exactly” 

I fully take off the top, before leaning down on his chest and pulling the covers over us. His heart is beating rapidly, and I rub soft circles over his bicep, trying to calm him. 

“You got hurt” 

“But I’m fine now” 

“I hurt you, I can never forgive myself for that” his voice breaks, silence following. We’ve been through this thing many times, but I understand why he isn’t letting it go. If I hurt him like that, the guilt would probably kill me. 

“You couldn’t have known what was on that mountain” 

“But I hurt you, I planned to hurt you”

“And I forgive you”

I lean upwards, giving him a small kiss. We could have this conversation a million times, and a million times I would say the same thing. I love him, and I forgive him. 

He turns, laying over me and capturing my lips again. This time it’s deeper, more passionate and rough. I break it off. 

“Josh, I don’t think we should do this in your state” 

“Please, just let me feel you” 

I oblige, pulling him down on me again. I caress his back, feeling the tensed up muscles under my fingertips. He needs to relax, to take a breath. His hand grabs my upper hips, groping harshly. The pain makes me wince, and he uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth, exploring my insides. I already feel myself getting wet. We’ve been having sex, on his good days at least, and there weren’t many of them nowadays. 

He grabs hold of my thigh, pulling my leg up as he grinds against me. He’s incredibly hard, and I wonder why. We just talked about the mountain, about me being hurt, about me being in pain… 

Our breaths line up, both of our pulses skyrocketing. He kisses down my chest, stomach and my inner thighs. He leaves rough bites, red marks which will probably last for days. Before the incident, we’d always been rough and hard when being intimate with each other, but after, he’d been much more careful, treating me like I was made of porcelain, afraid that a small nail mark would hurt me. Now, he goes against everything we’d been doing for the last months, and I love it. 

I look down, only to be met with his piercing gaze as he slowly drags my underwear off, throwing it on the floor. He holds the intense eye contact while lowering himself, his tongue coming in contact with my folds. I let out a breath, whining from his small touches. He’s barely touching me, knowing that the teasing will get me even wetter. 

“Josh…” 

He doesn’t answer, instead putting more pressure on me, resulting in more pleasurable sounds escaping my lips. I feel my core building up, body getting warmer, and nipples getting harder. I’m right on the edge, begging to be let free when he stops. I whine from the sudden lack of contact. 

He drags off his boxers, revealing himself. He doesn’t give me time to take him in, instead leaning over me, hands roaming my body. I’m wondering if he’s falling apart, if he wants to stop. I sit up, hand going to his face. Before I’m able to reach him, both of my ankles are gripped, tugging me down, leading to my back slamming down on the mattress again. I yelp, unsure about his next step. 

But he doesn’t waste time. His dick is running up and down my folds, begging to be let inside. He slams into me, everything at once. I give out a loud moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure surrounding me as he starts moving. He goes almost all out before slamming in again, making low grunt sounds as he breathes. The rhythmic pattern of his movements are mirrored by the sounds coming out of me. Endless tunes of moans and whimpers filling the dark bedroom. 

My heat starts building up again, taking me to the edge. I grip the sheets as I try to hold on a little more, wanting to come together. My body bounces back and forth on the mattress, my hand going over my head to stop it from slamming into the bedframe. He massages my thighs roughly, causing me to fall over. I come all over his cock whilst feeling high on ecstasy. My legs automatically squeeze around his torso, and it doesn’t take long for him to come after. He fills me up, slowly going out before falling on top of me. 

His face is wet, tears flowing as he nuzzles into the crook of my neck. He tries to mask the whimpers and hulks coming out, but ultimately fails. I put my arms around him, one going into his hair. I stroke up and down his back, hoping to calm him. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to calm myself after my high. 

“Please just let me feel you a bit more” he manages to say, arms going around my waist, hugging and holding me down. I kiss his forehead, fingers still combing through his hair. 

“I’m here Josh. I’ll always be here”

[bucksdaffy]

okay, so i think we all know how good tommy is for buck, right? because buck feels safe with him; he can be himself when he is around him without worrying too much (because i don't think that fear ever truly goes away when you have such abandonment issues) that he's going to scare him off (after all, tommy saw buck's perhaps less flattering sides pretty much from the get-go – his jealousy, him making an absolute fool out of himself by stumbling his way through their first date, him holding a metaphorical clipboard during chim's bachelor party – and still found him adorable; still assured him that he was interested). tommy supports him and he is there for him when he needs him the most.

but i feel like we don't talk enough about how good buck is for tommy as well. we may have not seen the true impact of it since we don't know that much about tommy as a character yet, but in these few scenes where we got to know more about him and saw how buck and tommy navigate their relationship, i think it's pretty obvious.

we know since 7x04, and we are reminded of it again in 7x10, that tommy really craves a family-like dynamic in his life. he wants to be a part of something, just like buck is. he is honest and vulnerable enough to admit that in front of him. and buck not only hears him, but he also tends to his insecurities. he verbally assures him that he does belong and that he is enough.

but he doesn't stop at just that. because words can only mean so much, and buck knows it. you never truly feel it unless you experience it. so what does buck do? he includes him. he invites him to his sister's wedding, where all the people he considers to be his family are present. he wants to show tommy that he can be a part of that family as well. so, when tommy turns up at the hospital and buck, with soot on his face, announces before god and all mankind that his guest of honor has arrived, he does it not only to show his family that he and tommy are a thing now. he also does it to show them that their little family might have expanded to include one more member. he wants tommy to further reconnect with chimney, hen, and bobby, and he wants him to get to know maddie. he offers tommy a sense of belonging he has been longing for. and he shows him that he's wanted.

this is also something that is obviously not resolved yet – it will for sure take some time until tommy truly feels like he's a part of their unit. it still seems to me like tommy might not believe his presence is that important, something buck used to struggle with pretty much up until the lightning strike. but buck has already taken action to prove to him that he matters.

pre-7x05 buck had an issue with being completely honest, not only with himself but also with others, something tommy used to struggle with up until he left the 118. but tommy motivated buck to process his feelings and accept who he really is without worrying what others may think of him.

this is not a one-sided relationship from which only buck gains something. they both complement each other well and help each other grow, which is why i feel like they work together like two pieces of a puzzle. the relationship is good for both of them, and i really hope we get to see that more in s8.

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too. 

Mates. 

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time. 

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just  because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court. 

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out. 

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.  

“I did,” I admit pathetically. 

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden. 

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones. 

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes. 

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd. 

That was a week ago. 

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week. 

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry. 

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting  resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council. 

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly  sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin. 

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.  

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me. 

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight. 

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon. 

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating. 

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo. 

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase. 

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff. 

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks. 

“What about them?” 

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again. 

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify. 

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission. 

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out. 

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer. 

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm. 

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias. 

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks. 

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face. 

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand. 

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow. 

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”  

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him. 

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias. 

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine. 

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip. 

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there. 

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?” 

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.” 

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine. 

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed. 

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver. 

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my  head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body. 

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head. 

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls. 

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons. 

“Get out of my head” I grumble. 

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling. 

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened. 

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe. 

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs. 

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this. 

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head. 

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence. 

Call me Rhysand. 

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back. 

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling. 

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me. 

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up.. 

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch. 

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door. 

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall. 

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine. 

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close. 

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him. 

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck. 

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence. 

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself. 

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality. 

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back. 

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him. 

Did he touch you? 

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this? 

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize. 

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same. 

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words. 

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court. 

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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[elleandstufff]

Let's Play a Game -`✮´- Part 3

Young and in the club scene due to the family business, you meet an up-and-coming rapper who calls himself Thanos. As the two of you become deeply embedded in the dark world of fame, money, and drugs, you begin to wonder if you can make it out alive. Pre-games, during the games, and post-games Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: Club setting, moderate drinking, your friends suck, sneaking around (and getting caught…), protective!Thanos (he knows how to fight and is not afraid to), fluff/cuteness, you meet his mom, reader gets a migraine at one point, SMUT, oral (both receiving), p in v, squirting, soft dom!Thanos, creampie (reader has IUD), tummy bulge/tummy pressing, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is a sex crier but I wouldn’t classify it as dacryphilia, aftercare, soooo many pet names, there’s a lot going on, okay? Dialogue written in bold italics is spoken in English, 5.4k words

Note: If you don’t like smut you can skip that section and the story will still make sense (this goes for all future chapters as well). Otherwise enjoy <3

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

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Your name being called pulls you away from swiping through pictures of you and Su-bong. For the last three weeks, you spent every night at the club with him watching his performances and then sneaking around together. During the day the two of you texted constantly. The two of you hadn’t yet put a label on your relationship, but you considered him your boyfriend. It all felt a bit juvenile, but for once you were happy that someone was willing to show that they wanted you for you. 

“Sorry, what?” you ask after your name is called once again. 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for five minutes,” your friend, Eun-yeong says from behind the driver’s wheel. She was the daughter of one of your father’s business partners, so you had been friends by default for quite a while.

“She’s been obsessed with her phone ever since she started dating that rapper. Oh, wait, they’re not even dating yet,” Eun-yeong’s twin sister, Han-na, says. 

Eun-yeong snaps back at her sister. “We’re adults now. You don’t have to officially ask anymore.”

“You have to at least kiss,” Han-na says. 

“I don’t know… I think it’s kinda nice we’re taking things slow,” you mutter while looking out the car window. “I’ve never had anyone be genuinely interested in me without some kind of ulterior motive.”

Han-na looks back at you from the front seat and you shrink back, feeling like a little kid being scolded. “He’s twenty-five, babe. By this point you should practically be living together. Our older sister fucked her husband within, like, an hour of meeting him.” 

“I don’t think it has to be like that-” 

Eun-yeong squeals, cutting you off. “We need to stop and get Miss Social an energy drink so she’s not spacing out like last time.” 

You don’t want an energy drink, but Eun-yeong stops the car to let you and Han-na hop out of the car as she drives it around the block waiting for you two. You enter the little convenience store and pick out an energy drink to appease your friends. You get in line and as the person in front of you walks off an unexpected face comes into view. 

Behind the checkout counter, Su-bong looks like he’s seen a ghost. The t-shirt and work vest he wears are much different than the clothes you’re used to seeing him in, but you’d recognize his brown eyes and hand tattoos anywhere. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. 

“Yeah, I kinda need money…” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. 

You reach to hand the can forward for him to scan, but he pushes it back toward you with a smile. “It’s on the house.” 

“Ugh, come on. Eun-yeong is bitching because there’s some dude on her ass.” Han-na comes to your side with her face buried in her phone. She finally looks up and takes in the cashier. When she recognizes who it is, she makes a face. “Ah, this is your friend…” 

“I’ll see you tonight!” you can barely get out as Han-na is dragging you outside. 

As you wait outside, Han-na looks at you like you’re stupid. “You could do so much better, babe. You’re wasting your time on a wannabe rapper who works at a convenience store and hasn’t even kissed you yet when you could have ten of Korea’s richest men at your door tomorrow. We gotta work on this at lunch.” 

Eun-yeong pulls the car up and Han-na gets in. They roll the window down when you remain frozen in your spot on the concrete. 

“You guys go ahead,” you tell them through a tight-lipped smile. “I’m not really feeling well. I’m just gonna call a driver to come pick me up.” 

You try to ignore their angry whatevers as they pull away and you go back inside the store. “Forget something?” Su-bong asks. 

“Yeah, you,” you joke. “No, my friends are just mean. I’m going to call a driver to come pick me up, but my dad isn’t expecting me home for another hour…” 

“Well, in that case…” Su-bong opens the door to behind the counter, beckoning you in. He sits down and you join him on his lap. The second a customer comes in you’ll hop off, but for now it’s just you and him. 

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That night, your father has a last minute business ordeal that will keep him away for a week. Against your wishes, he orders your brother, Tae, to come and keep an eye on you. He gives Tae strict instructions on how to watch you that you immediately know you won’t be following. 

“Please just let the driver take you to the club tonight,” your brother asks. 

“This will be the first time I’ve ever driven to the club myself,” you say. “Besides, what was the point of him buying me a nice car if I never get to drive it anywhere?”

“Fine, just be careful. And don’t let Dad know.”

You are, in fact, very careful. When you arrive at The Social, you take special care to wipe down the car from any puddles you drove through. 

Once Su-bong arrives you launch yourself into his arms, unable to contain your excitement. He hugs you back, but you can tell he holds back since you’re both so used to having to sneak around. 

You pull away with a massive smile. “My dad had to fly to Tokyo for the whole week!”

The rest of the night is everything you could have hoped for. There’s no need for the two of you to hide, and you somehow feel closer than ever before. 

Right at four in the morning as security clears the building of any stragglers and the lights come on, Su-bong whispers an interesting proposition into your ear. “I don’t work tomorrow. How about you come stay at my place tonight?”

You start to say that you can’t because of your dad, but then you remember that he’s not here to control your every move. You excitedly accept his offer. 

He takes your hand in his after you get your keys and you’re almost out of the building before you hear your name being called. You turn to see your brother. 

“Where do you think you’re going now?” He asks. He looks from you to Su-bong then down to where your hands are intertwined together. 

You notice your brother’s quirked brow and you speak up. “Oh, this is Su-bong. Su-bong, this is my brother, Tae.” Su-bong reaches his hand out for your brother to shake, which your brother does but with suspicious eyes. 

“I’m just gonna stay at his place tonight, okay?”

“No, not okay,” your brother answers. You feel Su-bong’s grip on your hand involuntarily tighten. “I’ve already let you get away with a ton of stuff Dad would kill me for. This is just too far, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Tae, it’s fine. Appa will never know. I’ll be careful.” 

“I will take good care of your sister. I promise,” Su-bong says. 

“Fine,” Tae begrudgingly agrees. “But be careful.” 

You leave the club hand in hand with the biggest smile on your face. Usually you’re stuck here for two or three more hours waiting for your father to finish up what he’s working on. You’re excited to get to sleep earlier than usual tonight, but you’re hoping you might get something else tonight too. 

The early morning air is chilly, so Su-bong slips his jacket off of his body and onto your shoulders. When you reach a puddle on the sidewalk, he promptly lifts you off your feet and over the puddle so you don’t get your nice boots wet. At the car, he opens the passenger door for you and slips the keys from your hand. He slips into the driver’s seat and runs his hands along the leather interior, the dash, and the steering wheel. “Damn, baby, this is nice!”

“Did you ask me over just to drive my car?” 

“Was it that obvious?” 

You lightly shove his arm at his joke. He grabs your hand and sits it on your lap. His hand grips your thigh, where it stays for the duration of the car ride. You’re in heaven by the end of the ride; this is something you could get used to. 

He leads you up to his apartment, and it’s not at all what you expect. He’s a young busy guy, so you expected a basic living room set-up with bare walls and probably an empty take out container or two. Instead, the place is spotless and there’s knick knacks and paintings all over the walls. It’s cozy. 

“This is my casa, baby. You like?” 

“Yeah, it’s great,” you say as you admire the various paintings and porcelain figures. “Didn’t take you for the kinda guy to collect porcelain figurines.” 

“They’re, uh, my roommate’s.” He coughs. 

“Is your roommate a sixty-year-old woman?” 

“Hey, she’s fifty-three.” He says, then pinches his nose. “I live with my mom.” 

You can tell he’s embarrassed, so you just shrug. “I live with my dad.”

“It’s different,” he says. 

“It’s not,” you reassure. You bravely reach for his hand. 

He rubs his thumb over your hand softly, and you see his pupils dilate ever so slightly. “Let me show you my room.” 

His room matches his personality better. The bed is unmade, but not messy. Posters cover the walls. There’s a desk in the corner with papers strewn about that contain half-written raps. 

“Nice posters-” you turn to say to him, but he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. His hands find your waist and you let one hand rest on his chest while the other reaches up to softly tangle in his hair. The kiss is so intense it shows that the two of you are not happy that you waited this long, but now that you have each other you’re never letting go. 

A needy whimper escapes your mouth, and he pulls his lips away from yours to lean down to your ear. “Fuckin’ love those pretty noises, baby. Let’s keep them coming, huh?” 

His grip on your hips tightens as he leads you to the bed. He leans you back on the bed and pulls away with one final kiss. “Gonna make you feel so good…”

He scrunches the fabric of your dress up to your waist, revealing your tiny pair of panties that barely covers anything. He rubs at your clothed clit and it’s nearly enough to make you squeal. He plants kisses all over the insides of your thighs. He’s just about to pull your panties down when you stop him with a quiet wait. 

He pulls away with confusion and concern in his eyes. He climbs over you to be level with your face that you’re shading with your hands out of embarrassment. “What’s wrong my Princess?” 

“When I finish… I make a mess…” 

His smile grows impossibly wide when he realizes what you mean. “Good.” 

He lowers himself back down and presses one slow kiss to your clothed pussy, before he takes the thin band of your panties in between his teeth and pulls them all the way off. He stares at you mesmerized and you instinctively press your legs together. He softly spreads them back open as he takes in your beauty. “So pretty and wet for me…” 

He wastes no time diving right into your wetness. His tongue greedily runs up and down your folds before settling on your overly-sensitive clit. He slowly pushes a finger into your hole and it has you arching your back. “Gotta get you ready for me, sweet girl,” his deep voice comes out muffled because he doesn’t stop or pull away from your pretty pussy. 

Both his tongue and his finger pick up speed and it causes your legs to give out and flop onto the bed. He grabs your thighs and locks his arms around them, effectively wearing your thighs as earmuffs. “You taste so fucking good.” 

The combination of his praise and his finger curling perfectly inside of you causes a string of whines and moans to slip from your lips. You’re close and he knows it. “C’mon, baby, let go. Make a mess for me.” 

That’s all it takes for you to gush around his mouth. He groans in ecstasy as he laps up your juices. When he’s finished, he comes back up to you and seals you in a kiss. You won’t meet his eye, so he softly grabs your chin to force you to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed. You did so good for me, my good girl.” 

He starts to slide your dress off over your head but you stop him with a stubborn look. You tug at his shirt and his pants and he realizes what you want. “Since you’re such a good girl…”

He slips his shirt off and tosses it across the room. You trace your finger along his tattoo all the way from his finger to his shoulder where the ink disappears onto his back. He grins at you cockily. “You been waiting a while to do that?” 

You can’t hide your smirk at how fast he’s clocked you. Instead, you tug at his pants which he eagerly shove off. You let him pull your dress off and your bra, leaving you completely bare for him. You lean forward on your elbows toward his painfully hard erection begging to be free from the confines of his boxers. 

He realizes what you’re offering. “You want my cock down your throat, baby?” 

You eagerly nod and he helps you to your knees on the floor. He stands before you and softly cradles your chin in his hand. His thumb runs across your lips and you part them to allow entrance to his digit. He groans as his thumb pushes past your lips and into the warmth of your mouth. You suck on it for a moment, hollowing your cheeks, before he pulls his hand away. You frown at the loss, but he just pats your cheek. “Let’s replace that with my cock, mm’kay?”

He finally pulls down his boxers, and you’re absolutely floored at the sight. You’d felt it pressed against you at the club before, but you didn’t realize it was that big. He smirks at your reaction. “Open up, pretty girl.” 

You happily oblige, and seconds later you feel your mouth being stuffed full of him. He uses his dick to pull and stretch at your cheeks, before he slips both of his thumbs into the corners of your already stretched mouth. He looks down at the sight of you and your mouth stuffed full of him like a man who has won at life. “You look so gorgeous like this… so gorgeous and all mine.” 

He pulls his thumbs out and places one hand at the back of your head. His other hand gently takes yours in his and rests against his thigh. “You tell me if it’s too much, baby.”

His cock shoves deeper into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. His hips start rocking forward and back as his cock slides in and out of your throat. You’re a drooling mess and he can only let out groans and strings of so pretty and good girl. 

He pulls away right as you can tell he’s close and you could nearly cry. You really wanted to taste him. 

“You can taste me next time, honey. I don’t want to finish before I feel your soft insides.” 

He guides you back to the bed where you can do nothing but stare back at him with glazed over eyes. He presses a couple of kisses to your neck before he looks into your eyes. “I don’t know if I trust myself to pull out…”

“Not a problem,” you say, your voice weak. “I have an IUD.” 

“Fuck…” He groans, burying his head in your neck. 

He teases your hole with his tip for a few minutes, loving how it makes you squirm and whine. Finally, he starts shoving into you while maintaining eye contact. The stretch is so overwhelming yet so pleasurable that it leaves your mouth hanging open. You can feel every single inch of him pressing into you so deep. He finally bottoms out and you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Mmm, look at that beautiful sight,” he says and you look down to see a bulge in your tummy from how deep he is. “Can you feel me right here, baby?” He presses a hand down on your tummy where he can feel himself. 

“Feels so good,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes from how overwhelming it all is. 

He kisses the tears on your face. “I know, baby, it’s a lot. But you’re doing good.” 

He starts moving his hips, slowly at first and then at a rapid pace that hits all the right spots. “So fucking tight… you’re fucking clenching me, but you’re taking my dick so fucking well like I knew you would.” 

He has stamina unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. He keeps fucking into you at his brutal pace like it’s nothing, pulling two more orgasms from you before he even gets close to his. But when he gets close you can feel the way he starts twitching inside you and the way his grip on your hips tightens. “Tell me you’re mine,” he grunts in your ear with a particularly hard thrust. 

“I’m fucking yours, forever.” 

That does him in. “I’m about to fill this pussy up. You look me in the eyes when I cum in you.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, but you obey him. He buries himself in you and paints your insides white. He stays inside you, telling you over and over again how well you did, but you’re so fucked out that you just feel him and only him until you come back to Earth. 

Once he slides out of you and back into his boxers your brain starts functioning again. He helps you to the bathroom to clean you up, and you’re glad that he has his own bathroom so you don’t have to walk through his house naked. Once clean, he leaves you for a minute so you can pee while he collects something for you to wear. He returns with one of his t-shirts, a pair of boxers, and a pair of socks. Once dressed he takes in the way his shirt hangs off of you so much. 

“Adorable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He wraps an arm around you for stability since your legs are still so shaky. 

“Sorry,” you murmur when you see his bed has been stripped of its blanket. 

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he says sternly. “I put it in the wash, no big deal. What do you want to do now?”

“Watch cartoons…” you say sheepishly. 

“Cartoons?” 

“Yeah… I like to fall asleep watching TV, and they’re usually the only thing left on this early.” 

“If my girl wants cartoons, then cartoons are what my girl gets.” 

He takes you to the living room and the two of you settle into the big recliner with a blanket pulled over you. The recliner is big, but you still have to lay practically on top of him, which is just the way he likes it. You watch the cartoons for not even five minutes before you feel insanely sleepy. 

You look at Su-bong in your sleepiness and don’t even know what you’re saying until after you say it, “I think I love you.” 

You feel like an idiot for saying it so early, the sleep clouding your thoughts. But he just looks back at you with his pretty brown eyes. “I know I love you.” 

You lay your head on his chest with a smile, and within minutes you’re out like a light. 

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One minute you’re sleeping soundfully and the next you’re being awoken by the sound of a door shutting and blinding lights overhead. You feel Su-bong stirring underneath you before he tenses completely beneath you. Standing before you is a woman smiling ear-to-ear–undisputedly his mother. 

“Mom?! I thought you were staying at your sister’s this weekend?” 

“Oh, I was, but I decided to come home early. You know how she is… always double books plans.” 

You awkwardly sit up as best as you can on the cramped recliner. You’re sure this is a great first impression of you: sitting on top of her half-naked son. It’s clearly obvious what type of night you two had. 

“So?” she asks expectantly. “Are you going to introduce me?” 

The two of you stand and Su-bong awkwardly clears his throat. “Mom, this is my girlfriend.”

You offer her your name and your hand, but she surprises you by nearly squealing and pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh, thank God he finally brought a girl home!”

“Mom…” he groans in embarrassment.

“Hush,” she says, shooing him away with her hands. “Go put some clothes on.” 

You start to follow after him, but she grabs your hand. “Not you honey, you can come with me.” 

You look at Su-bong with wide eyes before following his mother into the kitchen. You take a seat at the table while she starts making breakfast. “I was wondering who he had been texting all this time. It’s nice to finally put a face to the girl.” 

You try to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks. You’re thankful when Su-bong comes back wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but you still feel half naked in his oversized shirt and boxers. “Maybe I should go get dressed too…” 

“Oh, no,” his mother says. “You’re fine. I just wanted him to cover up that god-awful back tattoo.” 

You stifle a laugh. You, of course, adore his tattoo, but his mother’s hatred of it makes you giggle. 

His mother makes you a homemade breakfast which you thoroughly enjoy. Being so busy, most of your meals consist of take-out or random snacks strung together and called a meal. As you eat, the three of you talk. Well, mostly you and his mom talk while he gets embarrassed. 

“Did you see that fancy car in the parking lot?” 

You wipe your face with a napkin. “That’s mine actually.” 

Her eyes grow wide. “Isn’t that so expensive?”

You look between her and Su-bong and clear your throat, unsure of how to answer. “Umm… My father bought it for me. He owns all of The Social clubs in Korea.” 

“Yes, if it wasn’t for my sweet girl, I wouldn’t have the gig at the club.” Su-bong smiles at you in an attempt to make you feel better.

His mom’s eyes grow even wider, if that’s possible. Then her shoulders slump as she looks around her kitchen. “Sorry, I know our house isn’t much…”

This is exactly the type of reaction you didn’t want, but you can’t blame her. It’s only natural. You only hope that this won’t be the only thing she thinks about you. 

“Your house is perfect,” you tell her. “It feels so much more like a home than my house.” 

She takes your hand. “Well, you’re welcome here anytime.”

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

Much to your brother’s dislike, you spend pretty much every night at Su-bong’s for the rest of the week. The last night before your father comes home you come down with a terrible headache. You try everything from medicine to rest to a hot shower but nothing works. By evening you have to text Su-bong and let him know you won’t be able to come to the club tonight. He’s disappointed, but understanding of course. 

Shortly after the club opens, you start to feel better. You know better to risk heading to the loud environment of the club, so you just accept your fate that you’ll be sleeping alone tonight. After a while of watching stupid videos on your phone, you swear you’re hearing things. You hear the sound again. It almost sounds like… someone is throwing pebbles at your window. 

You hop off your bed and head to the window where the noise is coming from. Sliding the window open, you see none other than your boyfriend standing on the ground below with a handful of rocks. 

“What on Earth are you doing here?” 

“Not gonna let my girl sleep alone tonight, especially when she doesn’t feel well,” he says, grinning. “Can I come up or what?”

You laugh and usher him up. He scales the climb pretty easily and then he’s in your room–something you never thought would be possible. 

“How’d you know where my house was?” you ask him as he admires your room. 

“I just checked your location on my phone and I figured neither your father nor any of your brothers’ rooms would have Hello Kitty stickers on the window…” He gestures to the stickers adorning your window. 

“Those are old,” you say.

“No, they aren’t.”

The next morning you’re shaken awake to your brother’s panicked face. “Dad is fucking home early! He’s in the driveway right now!” 

You shake away the uncomfortable fact that if your brother knew to warn you, it means that he heard the two of you last night. . .

Tae runs off to try and delay your father while you shake Su-bong awake. You hate to rush him especially when his face is so cute and sleepy, but getting caught with a half-naked guy in your bed would probably be cause for your execution. You gather up all his strewn about clothes and shove him and his belongings into your closet. You lay back down and pretend to be asleep. Without missing a beat, your father comes into your room and sits beside you. You pretend to wake up and rub the sleep from your eye. 

“Goodmorning, Princess. Sleep well?”

“Yes, Appa.”

“Good, your brother said everything went well- Where’s this shirt from?” 

You freeze. You completely forgot you were wearing Su-bong’s shirt! “I just bought it as a sleep shirt.” 

“Ah.” He eyes your room suspiciously. “And why does it smell like a boy���s cologne in here?”

You freeze again. You’re fucked, but you recover quickly. “Boy’s cologne? Appa, how could you be so mean? That’s my new perfume!” 

His face softens. It worked. “Well, maybe stick with your old perfume, Angel.” 

He pats your head and leaves, allowing you to let Su-bong out of your closet. He pulls you into a sad kiss, knowing that your time is up for the morning. You try to shrug his shirt off to return it, but he stops you. “Keep it. It’s your sleep shirt, right?”

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

The next couple months, you successfully avoid your father becoming aware of your secret relationship. You mainly only see Su-bong at the club, but thankfully you have your secret spot that the two of you can sneak off to. 

When it comes to your twentieth birthday, you celebrate secretly with Su-bong the night before by telling your father you were staying the night with Han-na and Eun-yeong. Thankfully you get away with it because your father doesn’t care enough to verify this information with their father. 

The night of your birthday, your father closes down the club and invites your “friends” and they invite their friend’s friends. The club is filled to the brim with people who don’t give a crap about you, but you simply have to grin and bear it otherwise you’d look like an ungrateful brat. You have to literally sneak Su-bong in through the back because there’s no way you could convince your father to invite him without sounding alarm bells. He has to keep his distance, too, so that no one catches on. You spend most of the night shrugging random guy’s arms off of your shoulders. You can feel Su-bong’s eyes on you all night, and you can sense that he’s not happy. You don’t blame him; you’re not happy right now either. 

Toward the end of the night, a particularly insistent guy won’t leave you alone. “C’mon, why won’t you just come out to my car with me? Got something to show you…” 

All of a sudden, the man is shoved into the wall by a livid Su-bong. “You better fuck off before things get nasty, and I wouldn’t want the birthday girl to have to see you get your teeth knocked out on her birthday.” 

The dude rubs at his sore shoulder and starts to leave, but he looks at Su-bong first. “Whatever, dude. She’s not gonna fuck you.” 

“She already has, idiot,” Su-bong says at the man’s back, but he probably doesn’t hear it. 

You drag him outside to get some fresh air. “You okay? I didn’t want you to see me get violent, but I just couldn’t watch anymore-” 

You cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you. I’m sorry it has to be like this.” 

“I'll sneak around my whole life if it means I get to spend it with you.” 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

The next morning you sit at the kitchen table eating your sorry excuse at breakfast when your father comes and sits across from you. From the heaviness in the air, you know something is wrong. “We need to talk.” 

“I’m just going to be blunt. I’m very disappointed in you. I told you not to speak to that boy anymore, but you have been for months. And don’t lie to me more than you already have.”

You feel sick. How could he know? You’ve been so careful. “How? How did you know?”

“I heard there was an issue last night at the club involving you. I checked the cameras. And then I watched old footage. You’ve been with him every night, sneaking away to do God knows what.” The cameras. Of course. How could you be so stupid to not think about that?

“Appa, please! I love him!” You sob. “He’s so good to me!”

Your father’s hand clenches then unclenches. His nostrils flare, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying. “After reviewing the footage and seeing him defending you, I am… considering allowing you to continue seeing him. I’m not going to be happy about it but there are worse men out there, and I’m beginning to realize I can’t control you much longer.”

You tightly throw your arms around your father’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Hey! I said I was considering!” your father yells after you, but it’s too late. You’re already running to grab your phone to tell Su-bong. 

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

Author's Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. In the last couple weeks I went on vacation, accidentally became important at work and got a new position with a lot more responsibility, and there’s the constant onslaught of school assignments. And I’ve been off and on sick for like a month and have no energy </3 ugh! But here it is I hope you like it <3 I will be working on the other parts of this and other works too! I also have an anon request I’m working on. I didn’t forget about you anon! <3

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[temis-de-leon]

Demon Brothers as Single Fathers

What if the brothers already had a kid when MC first appeared in the Devildom?

Characters: demon brothers, gn! kid and gn! MC

Part 2

Masterlist

CW: lesson 16, death during childbirth mentioned, but there's nothing explicit. Some brothers are better fathers than others, but they all love their kid with a passion. Romantic interest towards MC at the end

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Lucifer

There´s no way he’s having a kid with a random woman. I already posted a headcanon regarding demonic pregnancies, stating them as difficult, so my guess here is that he had a long-term relationship and his partner died during childbirth.

Of course, he’d cope with her death just like he coped with Lilith’s: hiding his feelings. He had his sister’s room hidden in the House of Lamentation without any of his brothers knowing, so it makes sense that he’d hide everything regarding his former partner from everyone, including his child.

Now, don’t get me wrong, he loves that kid, but he is who he is. A strict parent that wants his family to be perfect, obedient and loyal to Lord Diavolo. His child might get an obvious special treatment, but they still have to reach their father’s standards.

All of that, mixed with the load of paperwork he has to take care of on the daily, makes bonding time very limited.

When MC arrives, he makes sure they know not to bother the kid, his threats visible to anyone with eyes.

We know MC, however. They meddle and they become friends with most of the brothers very easily, so it’s understandable that the kid wants to get close to them too.

Lucifer tries really hard to break that friendship, not trusting MC at all, but the more effort he puts in that task, the more effort his kid puts in disobeying him. And we all know Satan is helping them just to anger Lucifer.

It all reaches an end when MC frees Belphie from the attic.

The kid doesn’t understand the situation, why their new friend is all bruised and bloody on the floor and why their uncle is laughing in such evil way.

Lucifer only gets how much his kid loves the human when he sees their distraught over MC’s death and their tears of relief when MC reappears in perfect conditions.

Time passes and the family is whole again, granting the kid a new feeling of happiness and comfort they’ve never felt before. Lucifer feels obligated to rethink the situation when he sees that.

Then comes the last day of MC’s stay at the Devildom and he knows he’ll regret not showing his desire of deepening their relationship before they leave.

His kid and his brothers are not the only ones that need MC anymore.

Mammon

I kind of imagine him having a child with a one-night stand, to be honest. For the sake of this fic, the other parent is not in the picture, but Mammon loves kids, so there’s no doubt he’d keep his own.

And oh, how much he spoils them. He saves money just for them. Does he go right back into bankruptcy after that? Yes, but the intention is there, you know.

I also think the brothers would use the child to blackmail him, like “you’re such a scumbag, Mammon, you’re going to disappoint the kid”. A dick move, but they are assholes to Mammon most of the time.

And then comes MC, rocking Mammon’s world and, by extent, the child’s.

No matter how old the kid is, they can sense their father’s love towards the human. It’s almost painful to see and it brings so much second hand embarrassment, but Mammon’s happiness makes everything worth it.

Especially when MC starts to defend Mammon from his brothers’ insults.

The kid promotes themselves from child to matchmaker. 

They spoil their uncles' plans with MC so they can spend time with their father, boasting Mammon’s confidence and telling MC how good he is and how good of a couple they’d make.

At first MC thinks it’s pure childhood innocence, not suspecting the kid is acting on ulterior motives, but Mammon knows what his kid is doing.

He tries to defend his status as too good to be interested in a mere human, let alone date them. Of course, the child sees right through his bullshit.

No one stands a chance against his little hellspawn, not even him.

Suffice to say, MC and Mammon establish their relationship long before the year ends.

Leviathan

I love Levi, I truly do, but c’mon guys. I doubt he has any friends outside the online world, let alone a partner; we can all agree he’s a virgin. So, for him to have a child, I think he would’ve had to be either really lucky or unlucky (depending on how you see it), meaning that his brothers took him out of his comfort zone so he could lose his virginity and he left that one girl pregnant.

I think the mother wouldn’t have wanted to be in a relationship with him, leaving him more reclusive than ever. He needed his brothers’ help to lose his virginity and now not even the mother of his child wanted to stay with him? Yeah, he’s not leaving his room ever again.

It’s difficult for him to bond with the kid at the beginning due to the lack of knowledge on how to take care of a child and the kid being born out of a loveless meaningless one-night stand.

He watches and buys anything family-related, finally understanding that the way he became a father doesn’t have to influence their relationship, so he steps up really quick.

Don’t worry, the brothers offer their help the whole time.

They spend most of the time in his room, bonding over anime, manga, videogames and cosplay, especially about TSL. He also forces himself to get out of his room more often for the sake of his kid, even if it’s minimal.

He still distrusts MC when they arrive, not paying them any attention, but he has to reconsider a little bit when he sees the kid so interested in them.

The whole TSL quiz happens and he’s surprised to see not only Mammon and Beel helped MC, but his child too. He feels betrayed and irrationally mad at all of them for an hour or less, just until the kid insists on MC’s genuine interest on TSL and convinces him to give them a chance.

After that, their friendship develops quicker than anyone could've ever anticipated, as well as Levi’s crush on MC.

Another kid that evolves into a matchmaker, although their methods are more dramatic due to being based on anime and manga.

The rest of the brothers have a lot of fun witnessing the whole thing.

Satan

My man has contacts, he knows people all around the kingdom, he fucks. I’m not sure if the child came out of a long-term relationship or a one-night stand, but his contacts definitely have something to do with it.

His whole mission is to treat his child better than Lucifer ever treated him.

No baby voice at all, what nonsense is that? When he reads to them at night he uses different voices according to each character, same as when they play.

The type of parent that wants to respect his kid so much he kind of treats them like an adult. Full conversations and everything. More like monologues, actually, but Satan is patient enough to wait for his kid’s answer, even if it’s a babble.

Cats everywhere. Toys, clothes, bedsheets… You know the drill.

Overall, Satan puts his whole heart into his child’s development.

And when MC arrives, he’s only curious about them because Lucifer is on edge. He’d prefer if his child was left to their own devices, living their life in peace with no human bothering them for no reason.

Then he swaps bodies with Lucifer.

Boy oh boy.

The moment he sees his child running to his brother instead of him, he’s spitting fire. MC intervenes just when the kid starts to get scared, something he’s extremely grateful for.

After the pact is made, both him and the kid see MC in a completely different light, but he doesn’t think about taking them out on a date until his child trips and falls while playing in the garden.

MC tends to them, dries their tears and cleans their bloody knees before using some cute bandaids on them. Cat-themed bandaids.

How could he say no to that?

Asmodeus

One-night stand one-night stand one-night stand one-night stand.

One-night stand? YES.

I’m surprise he doesn’t have a legion of children, Hercules style, but oh well, what do I know.

I like to think the mother tried to stay, but Asmo is a certified narcissist who loves spending time with himself and who’d also love the idea of having a mini him running around, ready to try new clothes on every opportunity and match him.

It’d be difficult to stay in a family like that, with a partner that monopolizes the child’s time so selfishly. It’s bad, but I could understand if the mother chose to leave. I don’t even know if Asmo would care, given that it was a one-night stand with no feelings involved, and he’d probably believe himself to be enough.

Asmo is as dirty minded as ever and he still has various relationships, but he tries to tone down really hard, at least in front of his kid.

They’re partners in crime above all, their chemistry is insane. ‘Don’t talk to me or my son ever again’ type of relationship.

Although the kid doesn’t have Asmo’s charming powers, they’re cunning. Doe eyed with a shiny glare and a brilliant smile, who could say no to them? Sometimes they even fool their own father.

Both of them are pretty superficial, but kind-hearted at the bottom of their hearts. It just takes some time and effort to see that.

The kid treats MC the same way Asmo does, although they have no ill intent, they just want to be like their father. So when Asmo starts to show some interest in MC, pursuing a friendship, so does his child.

Partners in crime, remember? It doesn’t take long for the child to act coy and cute, turning MC’s interest to Asmo. Again, no charm nor manipulation, but a little help from an innocent hand never hurts anyone, does it?

Beelzebub

I don’t have a single idea where the child came from, but if there’s something I’m sure of it’s that they’re each other’s best friend.

Beel takes them everywhere, in his arms, strapped to his chest or sitting on his shoulders, he doesn’t care, but they’re together all the time.

Scared to his very core of losing them, but tries not to be overbearing, trusting his brothers to take care of them when he can’t, mostly Lucifer and Belphie.

They're the most important reason to control himself, Beel feels guilty when he lets loose and scares his child. Seeing your father eat a column can’t be pleasant, after all.

Another one that ignores MC when they get there, preferring spending time with his child. Now more than ever, since Belphie apparently went to the human realm as an exchange student.

When he breaks MC’s wall and they’re forced to share his room, he’s introduced to the dilemma of whether letting them sleep in Belphie’s bed while he shares his own with his kid or letting them sleep in his bed, with his kid in Belphie’s and him on the floor.

He’s very reluctant to let anyone but his twin sleep in the other bed. His nightmares lessen when he shares his space with the child as well, so Beel’s very conflicted.

MC offers to be the one sleeping on the floor, something he immediately refuses, so he finally agrees to let them both sleep in his bed while he’s on the floor.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

It isn’t until MC defends him from his own brother that he starts to think of them as a true friend. He trusts them with his kid and he even feels okay leaving them alone while he’s out doing his own things.

Days after MC goes back to sleeping in their room, his child confides in him how much they miss having the human with them and Beel can’t help but agree.

He asks for his child’s permission before taking MC out on a date.

Belphegor

Had the child with a situationship, but the mother thought he would be too absent to be a good father. She tried to leave with the kid, but Belphie insisted on keeping them. Being one of the Avatars of the Devildom, he had the upper hand.

As much as he tries to be present, he can’t help but fall asleep most of the day, so Beel takes the role of second father. Still, Belphie wants to be in the same room as his kid all the time, even when unconscious.

He’s able to enter other people’s dreams, so his favourite way of bonding is at night, interrupting his child’s nightmares and transforming them into beautiful dreams where they can do whatever they want to do.

He even made versions of Lilith and Beel for them to be together during those dreams.

Kind of entitled, to be honest.

Belphie is a brat and so is his kid, but the child at least has the benefit of the doubt.

When Lucifer imprisons him he’s ready to destroy the house. The only way he can talk to his kid now is through dreams and even then he isn’t sure what to tell them. In the end he decides to let the kid be, but he���s always on edge, trapped, not knowing what’s happening until everyone goes to bed.

MC’s presence feels like a gift. A pathetic gift, but a gift nonetheless.

He asks about his kid and he seethes when MC tells him they’re becoming friends, how much they like spending time with the child.

He focuses so much on revenge that he doesn’t even realize what the kid could think of him if he carried along with his plans; how they could feel when all of it is done.

Killing MC is satisfying and leaves him wanting so much more.

That look from his child, his own blood, takes it all away.

Why are they crying? Why are they hiding away from him? Trying to reach MC’s corpse despite Lucifer’s words or Beel’s grabbing hands, screaming in terror when uncle Mammon doesn’t answer their questions.

Then MC reappears, looking as perfect as ever, and Belphie is overwhelmed with relief, convinced that maybe his kid will stop looking at him that way.

But that doesn’t happen.

He sleeps with Beel that night, feeling lonelier than ever, hands aching and reaching for a smaller body that isn't there. He can’t find them in their dreams when he falls asleep and when morning arrives and he goes to the bathroom, he makes sure there’s no blood under his fingernails.

It takes days before his kid can even look at him without that angry pout on their face. They tell him they’ve been sleeping with MC, listening to their advice so they can mend their relationship with him.

Ever since then, Belphie can’t help but blush whenever MC is in the room.

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Tagging: @deepestartisanhumanoidshark

[sanatomis]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ── 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄!

a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

content. female!reader with she/her pronouns, feminine nicknames (princess), established relationship with satoru, slight angst with a happy ending.

notes. nobody was there when i presented my end of the year research-project as a 14 year old, so megumi (age 7), baby, i'm gonna make sure there's someone there for you.

࣪taglist. | series masterlist.

Megumi never really cared about science fairs. To him, they’re just a regular afternoon at school that he’ll have to sit through until he’s finally allowed to go home. He may think of them as unnecessary—as he does not believe in a good reason for parents to come to the school and marvel at their child’s (very much mediocre) creation—but he has never had a strong opinion towards them. They were just. . .there. 

He didn’t pay them much mind, and that exact indifference turned out to be the motive behind the very serious crime of putting a flyer in the bin. 

“Look what I found!” 

There’s a sense of annoyance that bubbles up in his stomach when Satoru puts the invitation to the science fair in front of him. Megumi’s brows furrow, and he purses his lips—leave it to him to find something he doesn’t want to have found. 

“Hm?” You hum, and lean over to look. One of Satoru’s fingers taps impatiently on the flyer, as if it’s saying ‘look, I caught him hiding something!’. Megumi briefly contemplates biting the digit clean off. “Science fair. . .Is this yours, Megumi?”

While reading, you put the bowl of rice back down onto the dinner table, and Tsumiki gingerly grabs it upon return. You mouth the words as you do so, and the boy nearly gags when he watches Satoru’s lovesick gaze at your little quip. It’s so disgustingly sappy, he nearly forgets you asked him a question. Nearly, as it had induced just enough anxiety into him to make him remember. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and pokes a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. 

You stop reading at his confirmation. There’s a sad look in your eye, it forms quickly and is instantly directed at him. Megumi doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s most likely the cause of it. “Why didn’t you tell us?” You ask, and he finds himself at a loss of words. 

Why didn’t he tell you? In all honesty, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. He has never cared about science fairs, nor has he had people who attended them for him. Most times, they are for parents only—so try as she might, Tsumiki was never allowed inside. Megumi eventually stopped bringing them up. He felt a little sorry for all the failed attempts his sister (very lovingly) made. But now. . .well, yes, why didn’t he tell you? 

He doesn’t know the answer to that. 

“Didn’t think of it,” he says eventually, because he knows you’ve been trying to get him to talk more; verbalising his feelings, is what you called it. 

You frown at his answer, and it makes him wonder if he said the wrong thing. A quick glance between you and the man at your side is shared. Megumi thinks that can’t be good. 

“It says it’s for tomorrow evening,” you tell Satoru, and push the flyer over back to his side of the table. “Are you free, then?”

Satoru pauses. He’s not free, Megumi knows he isn’t. Not because Satoru told him so, but because he listened to the phone call he had a few hours ago. It’s bad manners, he knows—he can hear you in his head, and he shouldn’t have done it. But, Satoru talks so loudly, he should simply quiet down if he doesn’t want others to hear. 

“I sure am,” he says then, and Megumi tries to hide the surprise on his face. He’s lying. Liar. Liar. Liar. It’s all that goes through the boy’s head, but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

He does wonder why Satoru lied, but he quickly gets his answer when he sees the happy smile that breaks out on your lips. “That’s great!” You say, and place one of your hands on his. Seemingly delighted, you look at Megumi. “We’ll be there.” 

“It’s nothing special,” Megumi says. His voice is clear this time, as opposed to his previous mumbling. Once again, he hears you in his head. You’re allowed to make noise. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Nonsense,” Satoru chimes. 

You continue his sentence. “We’ll be there.” 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

. . .So, where are you? 

Megumi isn’t too proud to admit that he’s currently desperately looking for the blabbermouth you call your boyfriend. It’s not because he’d rather have him here than you, but his white hair makes for a stark contrast among the crowd. It’s so very easy to find, and yet it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not here, and that, by extension, means you probably aren’t here, either. The realisation hits him harder than he thought it would have. 

For some reason, there’s a deep sadness. He thinks it’s a little silly. Nobody has ever shown up before, and he was fine with that. Being alone isn’t new to him. None of the situation he’s currently in is surprising, and yet Megumi has to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes. Why is he feeling this way? This hasn’t happened before. 

Megumi doesn’t care about science fairs. But, if that were true, then why do all the children and their parents suddenly make the room feel smaller? He swallows. All his classmates are darting around the room, chattering and motioning towards their projects while their parents gawk in feigned awe. As they always did. Except now, he feels something akin to resentment boil from within. His hand balls up into a fist. 

There isn’t a good enough reason for him to feel so disappointed. The position he finds himself in isn’t unfamiliar, and he knows Satoru was initially called-in for a mission somewhere in Ginza. Something came up, that’s all there is to it. Megumi knew better than to get his hopes up, or so he thought. How pitiful.After all this time, he still hasn’t learned.

And suddenly, he’s four years old again, and crawling into the crumpled bed sheets of his father’s ever-so-empty bed. He’s holding onto the fabric as if it’ll slip through his fingers, and stifling his quiet sobs with the pillow that doesn’t carry the same comforting scent any longer. It hasn’t for months now. Megumi keeps hoping that one day, it will. Tsumiki peeks into the room, and he pretends not to notice. He’s four years old, and has no parents, and absolutely no idea why his father left without him. 

Why was he forgotten? 

There is a lump forming in his throat. Its imminent appearance lulled him out of the faded memory, and into the present—the present, where he is, once again, forgotten about. Perhaps that is simply the tale of Megumi Fushiguro. 

“Mom, look! I added the glitter to it just as you said,” a girl speaks from the booth next to him. “What do you think? It’s pretty, right? Do you think it’s pretty?”

Her mother laughs, and pets her head once the girl starts tugging on her arm. “Mhm, it’s beautiful, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

Megumi doesn’t necessarily want to cry. Though, when his eyes water momentarily, there’s very little he can do about it; he feels even more powerless when his bottom lip starts trembling. He once read that blinking rapidly will make one’s tears disappear like snow before the sun, except that article mustn’t have taken the feeling of heartbreak into consideration. It doesn’t matter how much Megumi blinks, the first tear falls down his cheek a few seconds later. 

“Huh? What’s this? You really need to work on your handwriting, Megumi, your name is barely rea. . .” 

A part of him is convinced that the universe has it out for him. There is no other reason for the constant waves of misfortune that strike him. Sniffling, he looks up at the man in front of him—and the worst thought he has ever had surfaces. He is so very happy to see Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing the water staining the boy’s cheeks, but even then Megumi can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Not at this moment. With teary eyes, he blinks up at the tall man that snatched him up from the street like he was some discarded piece of free furniture.

“Where’s. . .” he croaks out, but gets interrupted rather quickly. 

“She’s talking to your teacher,” Satoru says softly. It’s a new tone of voice, one Megumi vaguely remembers as the one he normally reserved for you. This is making him uncomfortable—even a blind person would see that, but Satoru still tries. “Hey, it’s alright, buddy. She’s here.” 

The pat on his head nearly feels awkward. . .No, it does feel awkward. Satoru is petting him as if he were gently pressing a buzzer. It’s not even remotely close to the soft caresses you use when soothing him back to sleep, but it still brings him some strange sense of comfort. Megumi doesn’t swat his hand away. 

“There, there,” Satoru mumbles, and crouches down to his height. It’s a little silly to see such a man all folded up, his legs too long to look normal. “There was an accident a little further down the road. It took us a little longer to get here.”

Megumi lets out a shaky sigh. The petting stops shortly after. It’s quiet for a little while after—even if the room is filled with adults and children alike. Satoru looks at him, and he briefly wonders how you’re able to withstand looking into his eyes for as long as you do sometimes; Megumi thinks the blues will blind him soon. He gulps. For as annoying he might be when speaking, it turns out that Satoru Gojo is much more unnerving when he’s silent—silent, and looking right at you. 

Adorned with white lashes, Satoru’s baby blues pick Megumi apart at the seam. The boy has the brief idea to ask what he is thinking, but then decides against it. 

“Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice startles him. He hadn’t expected him to speak any time soon. 

“Megumi,” he calls out. “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? Megumi doesn’t know for sure. There are a lot of emotions he went through these past twenty minutes, and he isn’t entirely convinced that his brain was able to process them all. But for now—for now, he at least feels okay. 

Megumi nods. It’s all he does, not confident in his ability to verbalise his thoughts at the moment. He sniffs again. He’s okay, things are okay. 

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mumbles, and his eyes dart towards the right side of the room; towards the door. He clears his throat, and one of his fingers carefully makes its way towards Megumi’s cheek. “That’s good. She’s here now, see?”

Megumi visibly perks up, and, while still a little shaken, starts searching for you. As soon as he lifts his head up, there’s a soft brush against his skin. He wavers for a moment, confusion on his face once he realises Satoru brushed some stray tears away. The two look at each other once again. Why did he. . .

“Oh, there you are, lovie,” you say, relief apparent in your voice. It never takes you long to embrace Megumi—you once said he’d be stuck in your arms forever if you had your way. The boy moulds into you, and his anxiety dissipates as soon as your perfume hits his nose; the scent comforting him. “I’m so sorry, there was an accident, and all roads were blocked, and. . .God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.” 

You cup his cheeks in his hands, and Megumi suddenly feels under scrutiny. It’s as if you’re searching for any inkling that your late arrival had caused him unease. It clicks, then, why Satoru did what he did. He’s a buffoon most of the time, but it seems there are some working cells left in his brain—when it concerns you, of course. Megumi is very thankful for him now. Though, he will deny ever feeling so. 

“Alright, princess, let him breathe,” Satoru says, the usual light lilt to his voice has made a return. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you fuss over him. “Don’t you want to show us your project, Megumi?”

The mention of his project catches your attention. “Oh! Yes, will you show us, Gumi?” 

One might think you’re speaking about some grand architecture design rather than a small, barely functioning science project. That is, if they took the look in your eyes as anything to go by. The boy glances between you and Satoru. Megumi then decides that, yes, he would like to show it to you—he always has wanted to show them. 

You weren’t his parents, but you were at his side. And when Megumi looks at the near-giddy excitement showing up on Satoru’s face, and the unconditional support on yours. . .he thinks that may just be enough. 

He nods, and finds his words again. 

“I—I will, yes. Follow me, please.”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

taglist [based off the last fic in the series, let me know if it’s no longer wanted]: @torusdoll @sad-darksoul

[lovelynim]

Victoria Housekeeping co.'s special service

Zenless Zone Zero - Lycaon x Wise

A/N: This time I can only thank an anonymous supporter for trusting my skills, ehe ~ I'm not playing ZZZ and I didn't look too much into it, but I think I managed to do a good job.

Also, thanks @/wertzunge for beta reading this one for me!

Summary: Instead of doing her chores, Belle decides to hire Victoria Housekeeping's services to do it for her... and to do something else to her brother

Word count: 1020 words

“Coming…” Wise mumbled, heading towards the door after hearing someone knock thrice on the other side. Having to stop in the middle of his chores wasn’t exactly appreciated, but the possibility of a new customer waiting outside gave him just enough motivation to do so.

“Hello,” the proxy said, trying to sound as friendly as possible, “are you looking f- w-woah…” Wise stopped mid sentence at the sight of a tall, ominous and… fluffy figure. “Ahm, c-can I help you?”

“Victoria Housekeeping, at your service,” Lycaon announced, bowing slightly as his tail swished behind his back. “A full service was requested by master Belle. Is this the correct address?”

Wise nodded, still a bit stunned. His sister left not long ago - just after getting a hearing from him from not cleaning up her bedroom - and he was already accepting the fact that it would be on him to tidy up the place… Wise never expected Belle to actually hire someone to do the job. “V-Victoria? Wait, you guys actually do housekeeping services?”

"Our services are varied. We take every job that our staff see fit to fulfill.” Lycaon explained, a gentle yet firm voice tone as his cold gaze laid upon Wise. “I take you’re master Belle’s brother, master Wise. May I come in?”

Right. “Y-yes, that’s me. Please, come in,” Wise nearly stuttered, quickly stepping aside to allow the Thiren to enter his place. The proxy felt a weird sense of shame when Lycaon seemed to inspect the place so thoroughly, almost as if it was some sort of crime scene. “Ahm, sorry for the mess. I was about to clean it up and-”

“No need to apologize, master,” Lycaon interrupted, the sound of his metallic legs echoing as he turned around to face Wise. “That’s what I’m here for. Master Belle requested a full housekeeping and ‘care’ service.”

“I see,” Wise sighed. “Let me show you around, then.”

“As you wish, master,” Lycaon responded promptly, following Wise with absolute elegance in each and every action. A true gentleman, if you asked Wise.

In their short walk around, Wise decided that his bedroom would be a good place to start. It was where he was the most comfortable and familiar with and, if Belle indeed hired a ‘full housekeeping service’, then cleaning his room should also be part of the pack, right?

“This is far better from what I’ve expected, master,” Lycaon praised the proxy as he slid his fingers over one of the shelves, trying to check if there were any particles of dust laying around. “I believe this is not the main part of the problem, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Wise chuckled, sitting on the edge of his bed, “I- well, I thought it would be the easiest to start from, so I decided to show you this room first,” he explained, quickly using the excuse he just came up with.

“Then,” Lycaon turned to Wise, his tall figure towering over him as he stood inches away from Wise’s seat, “do you mind if I start with the second part of the service, master?” Lycaon suggested, holding his hand behind his back.

“What do you mean?”

“Master Belle requested a full housekeeping and care service,” Lycaon explained politely, “with your permission, I’ll do the cleaning once I’m done “taking care of you”, as she described in her request.”

Wise had a puzzled look on his face. What kind of thing did Belle hire? Taking care of him? “A-ahm, sure? What did she ask you t- WAH!!”

“Excuse me, master,” Lycaon muttered gently in a paradoxical contrast with his actions. With great, yet careful, force, the Thiren pushed the proxy back into the mattress. In a swift of Lycaon’s tail, Wise was straddled by cold, metallic legs that firmly pinned his body.

And, before he could figure what was going out, one of Lycaon’s hands closed around both his wrists, keeping them above his head. “As per request by master Belle, I need to inform you that this is for ‘scolding her and being so picky about her bedroom’, master,” Lycaon nodded, following the protocol like a true professional while… merciless tickling Wise’s body.

Big, yet nimble hands scratched and tickled up and down Wise’s side, pinching the spots between each of his ribs and prodding at the middle of his armpits. A mix of embarrassment and confusion struck Wise, but there was no room inside his brain to process all that when all he could think of was how much it tickled. “L-LYCAHAHAON!! AHaHAHAh, wahAHAHait a sehEHEhecon!”

“I apologize, master,” Lycaon muttered, his free hand torturing Wise’s exposed and vulnerable armpit with a ticklish onslaught, “I’m here under master Belle’s orders and her only. I’m afraid I can not follow your requests,” he explained, his hand quickly shooting down and tickling Wise’s waist like it has never been tickled before.

“P-plehehease!! AhAHAhah, i-it’s baAHAhad, LycaHAHAHON!!” Wise could feel the heat spreading over his cheeks as he laughed, all happening so fast and so suddenly that he could barely hold back his reactions. Why did they even have services like this?!

Still, Lycaon was merciless - an unstoppable, unyielding and ticklish force. It tickled so bad and he was still using just one hand!

…

Wise stared at the ceiling with a blank expression, his eyes gazing at the nothing while the sound of vacuum cleaner echoed from the other room. Even after receiving Lycaon’s 5-star-rated aftercare, he still felt like his body was drained of any energy. His stomach and cheeks still sore from laughing and, if he closed his eyes, he could still feel that lingering sensation of Lycaon’s fingers tickling him.

“I’m almost done with master Belle’s room, master,” Lycaon announced, turning off the tool before starting a different task - probably folding her bed sheets or something else. “Would you like something to drink once I’m done, master?”

“N-no need,” Wise sighed, the sound of his own laughter still ringing inside his head. Belle, that brat… Still, he shouldn’t give a negative review to Lycaon, right? It wasn’t like he did a bad job anyway…

[lordofdestructionm]

Reading Mordecai Heller as a repressed gay man

The tragic attraction

This is a full post based on my response to a great analysis by @sedgewick-gayble

Let me start by saying that if you read Mordecai as being totally asexual/aromantic and any affection he has for other characters to be entirely platonic that is entirely valid and I respect that

However as this response by Tracy makes clear on the topic of fans reading Mordecai as gay there is an intentional ambiguity about it. Being 28 at the time of the main story his "lifestyle is certainly asexual" up to this point, yet "being ace and being gay are not mutually exclusive things" and people sometimes "don't know themselves or understand their own motivations all that well"

This leaves the possibility open that Mordecai is actively repressing his natural desires and feelings

Mordecai's early life didn't exactly provide much time or opportunity for "self discovery", even by the usual standards of the less than tolerant and understanding world of the early 20th century

Being born into an impoverished family and having his father die very early in his life leaving him and his Mother and two younger sisters in dire straits, Mordecai had to get to work and assume adult responsibilities pretty damn early.

As Tracy says "selling newspapers wasn't going to cut it" and so using his natural talent with numbers Mordecai starts bookkeeping for the mob. Is it any wonder someone with that background would develop such a serious and rigidly buttoned up demeanour?

Since being forced to abandon his mother and two sisters at the start of the 1920s and flee New York, being picked up by Atlas's due to his habit of collecting useful strays, Mordecai had very few people he was close to in St Louis. With his generally anti-social personality and not only lack of interest but discomfort with any sort of flirting or romantic entanglements, that would be unlikely to change

Side note: Probaby coincidence but

There are only two people who seem to make it onto that exclusive list of people that "count" for Mordecai, who he cares about and are able to bring things to the surface he would normally keep hidden

Atlas to Mordecai is not just an employer, he is the man who saved his life, the man who moulded a desperate fearful shabby young stray into the sharp professional he is today, who took him under his wing and made him his protege. Filling the empty space his father left in his life. His grief and desperate hunt for those responsible for his death are his big motivation (the strain of which is slowly tearing him apart)

That connection is undertsandable

Much more surprising on the surface is the bond with the partner Atlas teamed him up with soon after his arrival, Viktor Vasko.

The assumption at the start would have been that while their skill sets might compliment each other in the field there would have been no warmth in their dynamic.

Certainly not on Mordecai's part as Viktor appears to be a sum total of many things Mordecai hates. Viktor is unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Clashing hard with his obsession with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar etc. Indeed Mordecai doesn't hesitate to nag/criticize Viktor for these things

Yet at the same time Mordecai has far better chemistry with Viktor than with anyone else, able to banter and bicker with him in a way you rarely if ever see with others

Its why when he gets tailored clothes for the first time Viktor is the first person he wants to show off too. Its why the one time he is intoxicated Viktor (and his large physique) are his chosen topic of converation. Its why at Christmas/Hanuhhah he gives him the gift of a tie while claiming its just because of the big guys poor fashion sense and that its "embarassing to be seen with him" (even that justification makes him sound like a nagging girlfriend)

A smaller detail is that during their iconic chess playing in the side content, set during their days staking out the remote town of Defiance, Viktor is shown very casually winning the game much to Mordecai's visible distress

This is hilarious but could also be taken as a metaphor for Viktor (possibly without even realizing it) breaking through his defensive emotional barriers

Something Mordecai doesn't know how to handle or respond to

The animated short only adds fuel to the fire

During their dispute over strategy Mordecai moves his face so close to Viktors that he almost knocks his cap off his head. His eyes at one point even dart down towards his mouth

Sharp eyed Vikdecai fans have also noted that Mordecai seems on some level to want the two of them to match

The tie being the same colour could simpy be Mordecai giving Viktor one of his own ties because its a joke gift and he just grabbed it on a whim to tease Viktor about his poor fashion choices

But think about the matching suits at the New Years party for 1926

I mean, seriously, not only is it the exact same style of suit in the same blue-grey colour distinct from everyone else, but they are standing in the perfect spots to be symmetrical to each other. Something that we all know means a lot to this compulsive man

Mordecai must have known there was going to be a big group photo ahead of time and then carefully planned this

Got matching suits made to his and Viktors measurements

Then most impressively convinced/nagged Viktor into cooperating (he may have taken off the tie and rolled up the sleeves but hey him playing along at all is quite a compromise from Viktor "I hate dressing up" Vasko)

Mordecai is intent on making Viktor retire and get out of danger, and avoid a situation where he gets sent to kill him by Marigold because he knows he could NOT do it, and his cover and investigation into Atlas's death would be over

He is horrified that Viktor is still working at Lackadaisy (though he again has to hide how much he cares) and that he has gotten not only hurt again but hurt by Mordecai again (albeit this time indirectly by stealing the guns)

Can this be read as simply platonic comradere? Absolutely

But there is something so *intense* in the fact he was willing to resort to kneecapping him. Its an extreme and desperate act that could only result from intense emotions, seemingly out of character for someone who tries very hard to appear logical and controlled.

While Vikdecai is a very fun ship when imagining them as an actual bickering married couple, I have often said that a tragic one-sided on Mordecai's part version of Vikdecai is the one that fits closest and surprisingly well into the canon.

His nagging and complaining about Viktor in that context take on a Tsundere aspect, both to protect himself from being found out and maybe even try and convince himself the uncomfortable alien feelings aren't there. He not only doesn't want others looking too hard at his feeling he doesn't want to examine them himself all that much

There is a heartbreaking but appealing angst to the idea of this extremely repressed man having such feelings for the first time in his life for his straight best friend and NOT knowing how to handle that. Having to perform the balancing act of being around him so much as his partner but being painfully aware that he can't let anyone catch on, especially not Viktor himself, as it would likely destroy his bond with the only person in town other than Atlas he is close to.

Though tragically he did that anyway later via the kneecapping, which while about trying to keep Viktor safe, he may now looking back try and tell himself its actually somehow "better" for Viktor to hate him for that

Because the big guy now wrongly thinks the feeling is mutual and that Mordecai never really cared about him, which may be better than (what Mordecai assumes would be) disgust at his partners doomed more than platonic feelings

Because he sees those feelings and his situation as a sad perfectly structured joke life has played on him