#but at that point just play a normal summoner

[puck-luck]

Helllooo Andyyy😈 I heard you wanted Luke thoughts/thots and I was summoned. Currently have trying ice play with Luke on my mind right now, how squirmy he would be under the ice cubes until he thinks it's unfair how you get to watch and tease him, running the ice over his chest and down his stomach. How he turns the tables and has you underneath him, watching you arch your back and whine out, the water running down the valley of your chest killing him. And this is me, so he's gonna be obsessed with your tits. Do what you desire with this, I'll take anything hehehehehe <333

meggyyyyyy idk how i missed this yesterday because i was definitely awake when you sent it??

ice play with luke seems like one of those things that you'd bring up and he'd one-up you. like, it starts with you and an ice cube, tracing the lines of luke's torso until water is pooling on his sternum and collarbones and in his belly button and soaking the band of his underwear. you run the melting ice cube over his nipples to see him squirm and hear him whimper, but the second you start to bring the ice cube lower... he's got you on your back and his own ice cube in his hand.

he teases you the same way, first. he draws wet lines up the sides of your neck and over your breasts and stomach. he holds the ice cube to your nipples and keeps it there until you're positively begging him for– something. something different? to take them away? for more? luke can't tell, not with how his eyes are stuck on the waterfall of dewdrops that fall between your tits and down towards your core. just as his ice cube is halfway through melting, luke pops it in his mouth.

he removes your panties.

and his lips circle your clit.

luke lets the ice cube cool his tongue before he licks a long stripe up your core. the rest of his mouth is still pretty hot, like it always is, but his tongue is ice-cold and burning with contrast. it's more wet than it normally is and luke is more feral than he normally is, grabbing another ice cube and continuing to run it over your skin blindly. at one point, he pulls away so that he can get his cold tongue on your nipples and show them some love, which is when he brings the ice cube to your clit and uses it like a toy, circling the bundle of nerves while you keen and arch your back and try to twist your hips away because it's so much, luke, oh my god–

and he makes you come with the ice cube attached to the apex of your thighs. he's started to shift his cock into you by then, filling you while mouthing over your tits with that cold mouth and circling your clit with the slippery piece of ice. the melting water, so chilly, drips down to where you and luke meet and he, admittedly inadvertently because he's so lost in how you feel, fucks it into you.

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Okay, but what if Riddle attempts to fight Malleus alone to buy Idia some time?

Like, we know Riddle is both reckless and confident in his power, also, if timed correctly, Off With Your Head can be make a difference in a fight, and even Leona was having trouble with it (granted it was normal not-overblotted Leona and this is Malleus we're talking about).

It can also play with the reveal that Riddle thinks everyone hates him, so he convinces himself that the least he could do is make sure Idia stays safe, both for the mission and Ortho (and maybe he's feeling guilty because last he checked Ortho required urgent repairs and it's his fault). Or maybe Riddle just feels like his lack of understanding of technomancy is not being helpful enough andhe is eager to actually do something right (he doesn't understand the situation and, as far as he can tell, everything went wrong after his dream).

And then Idia has to stop his doomed typing with a side of panicked ramblings to take a deep breath and tell the 17-year-old kid to "Calm Down. We're not dead yet, and I'm not letting you go on a suicide mission."

And before Riddle can make a counter-argument, Idia is already following up with some extra points:

1) "Yeah we're both housewardens and troublemaking SSRs. I'm also older so I'm supposed to be the responsible one here."

2) "Technomancy is my domain, so if I say you're doing okay, you're doing okay. It's natural for veteran players to carry the noobs when they're just starting out!"

3) "You're a powerful DPS, but you're also a glass canon. Meta dictates that good DPS units need great supports, and I'm trying to summon them with negative gacha pulls and a dream here!!!!"

4) "If we open the door to let you fight Malleus, then the door will have been opened anyway, and that guy can multitask like a PRO..."

5) "You know chess right? Great. We're currently in check, with the only thing between total anihilation being a Rook (A.K.A. my precious door) and the Queen (A.K.A. you). The lil' pawns may have metamorphosized into a murderous army, but there's still a whole board between us, so we have to hold on!!!"

6) "And before you get the chess analogy wrong, I am NOT keeping you around just because of your magical power. You're a TEENAGER not a weapon, for crying out loud. Did you really think I'd be that stupid?? Ortho is literally my brother and I'd rather DIE than treat him like a weapon!"

7) "Is it really that hard to understand that I don't actually hate you? Sure, you have zero E.Q. and is in my "Top 5 Most annoying Students in NRC", but I don't want you dead! Who would drag me to dormhead meetings then? Vil and Ortho need a buddy who's not afraid to break the doo- NOT NOW MALLEUS"

8) "I actually like being alive and don't want Trey and Cater to kill me, and neither that freaky cat friend of yours. Or Floyd, Kalim, Sebek, Silver, Vil..."

Idia: And that would be all! Thank you for coming to my TED Talk! Now, I know the Final Boss is right outside that door, but why don't you read a manga or two to pass the time? You've already helped me A LOT, so why don't you rest a bit?

Malleus, from the other side: You should listen to Shroud, Rosehearts. I will even refrain from tearing the door down while you read, rest assured!

Malleus: Also, who gave you the idea that everyone hates you? I just want to have a pleasant chat with them! Lillia taught me the importance of understanding the point of view of others! :)

Meanwhile the others are trying to use Meet Me in a Dream while driving a gigantic Blastcycle so they can speedrun the dream hopping and get back to Idia's dream so they can make sure Idia is okay (Ortho), complete the final stage of the plan (the others) and locate Riddle (Heartslabyul and Equestrian Club mostly, but everyone's at least worried that he's MIA). Also Silver is resting while Ace uses his UM and Deuce drives.

Leona got what he wanted (a better mean of transportation between dreams) but at what cost (two freshmen at the wheel, and they're not the competent robot kid).

[hexingart]

This is Nekomancer they're a necromancer Which is a build I'll never play because I don't hate myself.

[moe-broey]

Also obsessed actually. How Moe's mom raised it with a strong "Don't trust authority on authority alone -- you must consider time and place, of course. [Will take a moment to explain factually in earnest that you do have to listen to and make and effort to work with your teachers, you do need to respect your elders, ect ect]. But NEVER trust someone just because of 'authority'. They can misuse this to get you alone and hurt you. Also it's stupid. And if they're being stupid about it, unfortunately you Do still have to be polite (so long as they're not actually hurting you, if they're hurting you you have full permission to Kill) but! You don't have be fully obedient." mentality, meanwhile. Wholeheartedly subscribing to the Divine Authority Figure religion, wherein obedience is not just a feature but a primary function. Imparting that upon Moe. No no, but you see, the work around for this is that it isn't religion, it's Faith. And also a Relationship to a good and loving God. Like another parent, who lives up in Heaven! Who you Fear. You both Love, and Fear. Like you do, with Meeeee ☺️💖

[paladincecil]

Another playthrough of ffiv down just in time for the new ffxiv patch tomorrow \o/

[dravidious]

You're quite amazing

Last night I was like "Ah, 8:20 pm, and I've just finished all my Stuff & Things. Perfect timing to go to bed... I'm gonna write an essay about an update for a free-to-play game."

Thoughts on the Path of Champions Constellation Update

Part 1: The new progression is good

In the past, I've ranted about how the progression systems in Legends of Runeterra's Path of Champions gradually worsen the improvisational deckbuilding aspects of the game. In summary, as you progress, your starting deck and its associated strategy become stronger and stronger, while the cards you get mid-run stay the same power level. As your starting deck improves, adding cards to your deck goes from helpful to detrimental, ruining the feeling of getting stronger over the course of the run.

A recent update to Runeterra added a new progression system called Constellations, with a variety of new perks. Some just add more items to your starting deck, and each champion has at least 1 new starting power that further emphasizes their default playstyle, both of which further contribute to the problem. However, two notable perks help to alleviate the problems: Star of Discovery and Star of Legends.

These perks both do mostly the same thing: Add items to cards you get mid-run. Star of Discovery adds a certain item to a certain category of card, such as units from a specific region, or spells of a certain mana cost. Star of Legends adds an item to your support champion. The items given by these perks synergizes with the champion's default strategy, which is something I criticized in the past; building a deck of random cards feels less significant if it's always playing the same strategy.

However, these perks are a definite improvement to the improvisational gameplay. Path of Champions isn't a game about improvising a strategy; it's right there in the name, you choose a champion with a specific playstyle. But that model has always been flawed; in the early game with no star powers or starting items, you rely a lot on card rewards, and you might not get the cards needed to actually play your champion's strategy. In the late game with a powered-up deck and star powers boosting your strategy, you're forced to clog your deck with weak cards that don't synergize with your starting tools.

These perks solve the issue beautifully: By powering up the cards you get mid-run and making sure that they synergize with your champion's strategy, you get the best of both worlds, improving your deck over the run while still getting to play the strategy you wanted to. The deckbuilding used to get worse and worse as you progressed, but they've managed to make it so that progressing enough eventually loops back around to making it good again.

Part 2: Everything about this update is a fucking mess

The new champion released in this update, Viego, has a spell in his starting deck called Possession. As one of his level up rewards, it gets the item Nomad's Medallion, which gives -2 cost. One problem: It doesn't fucking work. After getting this reward, playing a run will reveal that Possession still costs its default 5 mana. It just doesn't fucking work. At all. How the fuck did this not get caught in testing?

Possession + Nomad's Medallion is far from the only mistake in this update. Pretty much everything added has some mistake that came with it. For example, they went back and added new rewards to old adventures, but players who had already gotten all the old rewards would be unable to get any of the new ones. The good news is they've fixed this one. The bad news is that this is the only mistake they've fixed so far.

There's a new weekly quest that rewards you for winning 3 weekly adventures. Background: Weekly adventures are randomly generated adventures that give a reward the first time you complete them. They come in sets of 3, and a new set of 3 replaces the old set each week. Problem: The weekly quest refreshes on wednesday, while the weekly adventuers refresh on monday. That means that either A) You have to wait 2 days before doing any of the weekly adventures, B) You have to do all 3 weekly adventures within monday and tuesday, or C) You have to do one or more of the weekly adventures twice, without getting any rewards for the 2nd run.

Viego has another bug, in his 2nd star power. The power says "Whenever an ally with 4+ power dies, reduce the cost of units in hand with 4+ power by 1." The cost reduction actually only applies to units in hand with 5+ power, so either the power has a typo or the programmers messed up. This is especially egregious because Viego has a unit in his starting deck with 4 power, so basic testing should have revealed this bug.

Daily quests now give a "bronze cosmic vault" which gives 5-10 fragments of a random champion, but they didn't add a vault opening animation for this one, so you can't tell what champion you got the fragments for or even whether you got any fragments at all. You DO get the fragments, it just doesn't tell you. Speaking of fragments, they also broke the "upgradable" notification.

Oh lord, the upgradable notification. Background: You upgrade champions by spending fragments of that champion. You also get wild fragments, which can be spent on upgrading any champion. Before, when you had enough champion fragments to upgrade that champion, the champion select button would glow, and the champion you can upgrade will be moved to the top and glowing with the label "upgradable". This is very useful, and not annoying at all because there's no reason not to upgrade a champion when you have enough of their fragments to do so. It's not like you can spend their fragments on anything else. Obviously, this doesn't consider wild fragments, because that would be stupid; not only is it likely that you want to save up your wild fragments for a certain champion, but giving an upgradable notification for any champion that you could upgrade with wild fragments would make literally every champion "upgradable" once you have enough, making the notification completely useless.

The upgradable notification now takes wild fragments into account.

This is almost certainly a mistake, and a quirk of the new upgrade purchasing UI that came with the Constellations update. But for all of this, every little messy aspect of this update, you have to ask: How did this happen? How did they fuck this up? How rushed was this update that they couldn't find and fix these issues? What the fuck is happening? Is the dev team working off a budget of $2 and a bag of peanuts?

Part 3: Free-to-play games suck

I was thinking about how I'm definitely never giving this game any money when I thought "Well, what if there was an Unlock Everything button that costed $5? Or even just $1? I'd probably buy that so I could… Wait. What would I do then?" I realized that I've spent so much time playing this game just to Make Progress and Get Things that I don't even know what I'd do if I actually had all the things I wanted. I realized that this game is an evil treadmill of FOMO and daily quests that has no purpose other than to drain as much of my time (and ideally money) away as possible. And I fucking fell for it like a chump.

I have so many games, real games that let me play at my own pace, sitting in my Steam library, yet here I am grinding for hours on this treadmill because I don't want to miss a daily quest. I am going to uninstall this game.

After I clear the "Beat Lissandra with Viego" quest because it has a time limit and gives a big fat diamond vault but AFTER THAT I'M QUITTING FOR REAL I PROMISE!

Epilogue: Ultrakill

Even since long before I bought it, Ultrakill has been a fascinating game to experience. I HATE spending money, so I naturally drift toward free-to-play games, but these games often have grind treadmills meant to tempt you into skipping them with microtransactions. Even some real games with no microtransactions have grindy progression mechanics, such as Monster Hunter and most RPGs. I've mostly grown numb to it and just accepted that this is how games are.

It's not, that's a lie, and Ultrakill is the greatest counterexample of all time.

Being as cheap as Mr. Krabs, I first experienced Ultrakill through its demo. Now, Ultrakill is a game with very little progression; the demo has 2 weapons that cost currency to buy, but they're super cheap, you'll get enough to buy them just by playing through the demo levels. There's no grind. Just 6 levels.

I played those 6 levels so many times. I played them until I P-Ranked them, and then occasionally I would just boot up the demo and play through it all again. I had everything, all 2 unlockable weapons, and even all the non-mechanical stuff; the secrets, the P-Ranks, the bonus challenges. There was NOTHING for me to get, but I kept playing anyway, because the game is fucking fun. I want to play games like that. Games where you run out of things to chase, and still keep playing because the game is fun. Rhythm games are a great example; no stats to level up, no weapons to obtain, just pure gameplay. Racing games are another; I've had a blast playing F-Zero GP Legend, just booting it up every now and then to play a quick Grand Prix.

Even games that have progression can play like this sometimes, like my many, many playthroughs of Tales of the Abyss. And games that have a story mode with a clear endpoint are also appealing. I want games where the progression is finite, where you're expected to reach the end, not just keep grinding for currencies on an endless treadmill. Because the best way to know that you truly love a game is when it runs out of things to give you, but you still keep playing.

Okay essay over I just have a thing to put at the end here because this morning I beat Lissandra on my very first try

Stole her own OP Watcher, and even if I had only killed it instead I think I still would've won lol

Finally uninstalled the game afterward. Goodbye.

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 1)

Summary: Danny's 19, a prince, a halfa, and tired of being these things. So he jumps on the idea of a vacation as soon he's given the hint of a chance. The only caveat is that he's going to go undercover as a vampire in a big city - Gotham - far from his home dimension. He finds it's easier than he thought it would be. He's already mostly there.

Relationships: Dead on Main (Jason Todd/Danny Fenton), John Constantine & Danny Fenton

Um? Inspired by several prompts and other fanfics. Lost Between Our Needs and Wants AU definitely, with a background Danny's summoned by Ra's as Damian as a sacrifice. Nothing bad happens (to Damian) don't worry. Also, the one in which Danny decided to fight ghosts as a human too.

And John is almost definitely ooc, he's a character I enjoy a lot even though I don't have a firm grasp of his canon.

Danny's afterlife has been way too interesting for way too long. It's gotten to the point that when things suddenly go quiet for months, he hardly hesitates to give his "human" life some over-due attention.

For obvious reasons he's not going to try his "vacation" in his own dimension. Anyone he once might have stayed for know how to get a hold of him, whenever and wherever.

The Amity Park portal is still open. But between the stricter laws on ghosts wanting to use permanent portals he managed to get passed, and the increasingly feral ways the townsfolk have begun defending each other with, Danny feels confident to finally...let go. In his heart, he had always thought of it as still his, despite not being there to maintain it in truth. But now it's not his Haunt anymore, fully and completely.

They don't need him anymore.

And Danny doesn't want to be needed like that again, to be honest. He sacrificed so much to play hero because he got it into his head that he had to do everything alone in the end. As if he was the only one who could kick ghost butt on the daily in town.

Thankfully, a nineteen year old Danny is smarter than a fourteen year old Danny. He's learned the art of delegation. Any tasks that he doesn't need to be present for, he has a whole team of ghostly assistants to handle things for him. The major multidimensional crises have for the most part been solved - his protection Obsession at the very least fed. And quite a few skeleton thralls he freed near the beginning of his reign were suddenly looking for direction. Among them, a decent amount found the talent and fulfillment in positions of bureaucratic power that Danny never will, filling up spots he's unwilling to give out like the candy the various ghosts of nobility treat the roles as. Or ghost nobility. Like the Ancients. Quite a few of the Ancients are assholes.

(At least all the murderous Ancients aren't problems anymore)

With all their help, he's able to occasionally pop in to do paperwork, meet with the High Court for various lawmaking and judicial decisions, and listening to official petitions to the Crown from his people. It's all good. No mountains of unseen paperwork, no audience with the Observants every waking moment, no one across the Realms screaming desperately for help. Even some of the cults have finally caught on that he's not Pariah!

So Danny starts the process of finding a new Haunt for his new, normal, alive alter ego. Staying as long as he has in the Realms couldn't have been sustainable long-term if he didn't want to become a full ghost. As complicated as his relationship with his humanity is these days, he still doesn't want to die again. And Frostbite definitely has been pushing him to finding new territory, in the Infinite Realms or otherwise. Because even for full ghosts going Hauntless for long periods is straining. To say the least.

Although, being just a human again...didn't sit right. Even after all this time. His human form is still one Danny Fenton, in his eyes.

He can never be Danny Fenton again. He accepted that his duties as Crown Prince would keep him away from the identity of the ghost hunter's ghost hunting son, who went to Casper high and had terrible grades in everything but science; the kid who was shoved into lockers and who was addicted to Nasty Burger and played DOOMED with his friends and who wanted to be an astronaut. He accepted that he had to leave that all behind, and be full ghost in all but form. His parents wouldn't want him if they knew everything he lied about, anyways. He didn't actually deserve the name Fenton.

His new Haunt would preferably be in a place where he could reasonably pass himself off as another species, then, and still be safe. Safer than being a ghost at least. Most universes had well-deserved folklore against the Realms. His people are not inherently malevolent...But he knows that they don't play nice and careful with the living.

He would need an ectoplasm rich environment, too. A big city with lots of crime would go a long way for providing the ambient death and fear vibes that would attract Blobs like a bee to nectar. It would also make it feel like the Infinite Realms - hopefully. He's gotten accustomed to that kind of environment. He thinks he may never sleep again in a place quiet and safe.

He'd like a place with a rich history too. Just for fun!

Danny mulls it over carefully, narrowing down universes he could reasonably start his search in. The only universe he can think of with extensive protections for the non-human written into law is one far-flung flavor of an Earth he's semi-familiar with. He's been there twice, both at 16, just starting out and stressed to hell and back with the sheer load of unattended problems Pariah left to rot.

Both times he'd been more than he'd have liked. One Ra's Al Ghul wasn't technically his problem. He was no one's problem now, and that was current Danny's whole issue with it.

John Constantine is an unlamented saint for putting up with a feral teenaged Danny's slap dash attempt at helping the both of them - John with his soul related doom, and Danny with his paperwork related misery.

But. Considering how he handled the contract with Al Ghul, Danny can't blame John for hesitating to renegotiate their terms already. Ra's Al Ghul was an idiot who gave him what he thought was the life of his grandson, in exchange for immortality.

Him. The Prince of the Dead. Immortality.

Thankfully, the wording was imprecise. What he actually traded was the kid's really cool sword - the kid kneeling, terrified eyes meeting his before darting away, offering his own sword to let Danny slit his throat and "collect his due sacrifice", Danny not being able to breathe through his own fear - for pure ectoplasm, with instruction to drink it everyday until he ran out.

This of course killed even him months later from over-exposure.

The man probably felt a mile high in the air, indestructible, right up until he crashed. Al Ghul promptly became a ghost. Which. Closest thing to true immortality the Prince of the Dead could offer him. He kept his end of the deal. It's not his fault that Al Ghul never specified that he didn't want to die to be immortal. It's also not his fault that Al Ghul had so many dead enemies and victims on the other side who were easy to find. It was ridiculously easy - they made a support group around being taken down by the LOA. And who was he to deny the dead their due vengeance?

Right. So John is understandably nervous about Danny owning all the pieces of his soul, no matter how much rapport they've built these past three years. Danny is mature enough to admit that it is his fault for that bit.

On the bright side for Danny, that means one grumpy occult detective in a sad trenchcoat is a guy who lives in his phone. Like an uncle-shaped tamagachi!

He scrolls though his contact list until he thumbs John's number. Surprisingly, instead of going to voicemail, he picks up on the first ring.

"Before you ask, yes I'm cashing in a favor, finally. No, it's nothing evil, I've just got the first actual free time I've had in five years and I'd like to get suggestions on a city to move to."

-------------------

John ended up giving a very detailed list in response. Suspiciously detailed, and hardly prompted. How long had John been thinking on this? And why?

Danny chalked it up to the man's reasonable paranoia when it came to him. John's aware he can pretend to be (fully) human with relative ease, afterall. And the older man knows where he'd need to be able to actually live long term. After-live. Whatever. Point is, John probably made it his business to know where any sneaky invasions would start if Danny ever became a little less morally ambiguous and a little more bloodthirsty.

Entirely fair! Pariah wasn't always a tyrant!

On the very top was Gotham, a city in this world's Jersey, and the crime capitol of the States. Plenty of ambient ectoplasm, and planty of charged emotions wafting from every street corner. He doesn't voice this, but Danny figures that there must be a whole community of ghosts already living there because of that double whammy.

Something about the city's name tickles his memory, but can't quite pin it down. If it was important he'd have remembered. Right?

John is thrown when he asks about his options of other non-humans Danny could reasonably get away with impersonating.

"And why," the occultist half-accuses, "would you of all spooks, want to live in Gotham, as a 'vacation', just to not even pretend to be normal?"

"First of all, ow. John you know just because someone is different doesn't mean they're not normal. I thought you were the cool uncle." He responds half-heartedly. Danny bites his bottom lip, rolling it between his sharp teeth as he tries to think of a part two to that answer that wouldn't get uncomfortably personal.

John doesn't rise to his bait. Danny hears him unscrew something metallic, then the sound of fluid swishing quietly from the other end. Ah.

The silence wears on. Danny should hang up. But winging things have always gotten him into bigger trouble. And John is the guy to call for this. Fuck. And he's bad at lying bold-faced.

Fine.

"I'm half human," Danny responds as if that would explain everything. It doesn't, so he manages to continue in a small voice that he doesn't even remember the last time he'd used. "Sometimes I still pretend to be one when I can't see any other way. But I had my chance at playing the part of both. And I royally screwed it up, literally! I became freaking royalty and I just couldn't anymore. As far as anyone but my doctor is concerned, I'm full ghost. I had a chance - I don't deserve another one. Screw ups don't get nice things."

John takes another swig from his flask, mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely like 'of course he's a fecking halfa'. His voice is rough around the edges from whatever cheap booze he just drank a concerning amount of.

"Listen. Sounds like you've got trauma dripping from your ears, kid. But what's the point here, huh? Sounds like you want to be human without all the fuss of it." John drawls out.

Danny takes a deep breath in through his nose. He tries to fight down the feeling of being peeled open for the world to see - being afraid isn't helpful right now. He needs to be silly, nonchalant, like he's always been with John in tense situations. Why do they only talk when things are tense, anyways?

"Essentially. It's more like. I want to have all the human experiences I missed out on, but without having to hide being inhuman. That kinda thing."

"And you can't just be a ghost?"

"I really don't think anyone likes being ghosted."

"Don't you start on that. You know what I mean, Princeling."

"Fine. No, I can't be a ghost. That's boring and no one likes being haunted."

John gives a long sigh. After a beat, he acquiesces. "Alright. You could pull off vamps damn well. Got the hair for 'em. The teeth and claws are only slightly off. There's several clans with different looks the same way humans have ethnicities. Although, I don't think that's the same, now that I'm thinking about it. But subspecies doesn't fit either."

Danny hums, tilting his head in thought. "Like the difference between a banshee and a specter?"

"Yeah, like that. All vamps, just different enough, and no kind older than another to say they're the 'main' species." John clarifies. Another pause. "Unless you count Halfas. Which. Some people do but shouldn't. Bloody idiots."

Danny startles, nearly dropping his phone. "Excuse me?"

John snorts. "What? You didn't know?"

"Musta missed that part in the complimentary instruction manual they gave me for having my molecules redecorated." He snarks. "What do you mean I'm already a vampire?"

"I said people who don't know what they're talking about count Halfas as the original vampires. You lot have been around since the bloody dawn of time, it seems." John sounds exasperated.

"That's not what I - never have I ever wanted to take a chomp on anyone's pulse point, what the fuck?"

John gets that smug tone in his voice that Danny has a love-hate relationship with. "And exactly how many undead folks do you hang out with when you're feeling peckish?"

"...you can't be serious." Danny says instead of denying him. What can he even say to that? He's never met a Revenant or Ghoul.

"As the grave, I'm afraid."

When Danny doesn't outwardly respond for too many beats, John takes another chug. "Phantom?"

"John." He begins, pinching the bridge of his nose as more and more dots connect too cleanly for him. "You might be wrong."

"...What awful lore about your eldritch homeland is going to send me into my weekly crisis this time?" The detective groans out.

"Alright. So you know how part of my whole thing as the Prince makes it my job to stay aware of ectoplasmic diseases?"

John hums in acknowledgement, so Danny sucks in a deep breath. "Then you should know two things. One, that I've been to a few dimensions with vampires in them. And like you said, they're all different from each other. I didn't really pay much attention beyond helping the people survive these world-ending scenarios though.

Two, is that in each and every one of those realities, the vampirism was caused by a virus made by an Ancient - don't worry, they're gone. The disease itself is called False Halfa Syndrome. It was their attempt to weaponize Halfas back in Pariah's time."

"Oh shite." John says elegantly. "Bag o' shite!"

"Good luck on that crisis. Me too." Danny is hardly holding in hysterical laughter. "I can't believe Sam and Tucker were right about this. Holy shit."

"How in the world didn't you piece this together until now?!"

"I don't know! I just thought it was coincidence!"

"Bloody fucking hell, Phantom. Nevermind. You can play a vampire totally accurately because you are one. A ghost one." John growls. "Cause that just had to be a thing."

Danny carefully doesn't think about how Vlad might have legitimate claim to that vampiric aesthetic he's got going on. Instead, he's planning on stealing an aesthetic change for his own ruse.

"Nice. Should I know anything else while we're here?" He asks.

John gave a wry laugh, crackling over the phone's shitty old speakers. "About Gotham or your new undead existence?"

"Both." He says instantly. "Both is good."

"Gotham has vigilantes. The birds and bats are efficient, and they spook easy at unknowns. Batman's technically my coworker if we're gonna call the Justice League a job - we don't get paid for this. He and his family deal with the craziest lineup of human rogues I've ever had the displeasure. It's made him a healthy amount of paranoid. If you're doing anything nefarious, he'll find you. And then he'll call me."

Danny isn't exactly afraid of John. But Pariah wasn't afraid of Danny, either, so the halfa takes it seriously. Internally.

"Yeah yeah old man. You've got your eye on me and all that. Uh huh." He genuinely appreciates the warning, too, but messing with John is his bread and butter.

"Watch it, brat," John says with no real venom, unlike a moment ago. "Or I'll bring out the stakes."

"I take mine medium rare, thank you."

"Piss off."

"...About the vampirism?"

"Normal ghost bullshite applies. It's about the ecto, I think. You go absolutely nutters for the stuff in undead folk. Something about how ectoplasm interacts with the reanimated. Liminals are nutritious too, but I've been told it's the difference between cafeteria food and gourmet. One smells absolutely heavenly, the other is barely appetizing."

Oh Ancients is that why all his exes are Liminal? No, hold on, was part of the reason Vlad was so weird about him just ghost-vamp on ghost-vamp mutual hanger?

"What, I'm not the only Halfa in your life? John. I thought we had something special."

"Please don't make this weird. Do not flirt with me." John instantly scolds. "I know you're just being your little weird brand of playful, but I knew you when you were a kid shaped menace. C'mon."

Danny blinks. He didn't think he was flirting, but apparently he was. "Alright. Sorry, John."

There's a sudden crash on the other side of the phone. Followed by John's muffled cursing.

"Listen, I have to go. If you're serious about this I'll get you some good fakes. Text me with what you'd like your name to be." And then John hangs up. Danny smiles into the lingering silence.

------------

PhantomMenace: Dante Nightingale, pwetty please 0w0

God's Favorite Whore: That's the most main character name I've ever bloody seen.

God's Favorite Whore: You're from a dead family in Illinois, farm boy, meta. Had an accident at 14, with a near death experience for believability. You've also been missing since shortly after it. Anyone looking into you will think that's when you got "turned."

PhantomMenace: thats why your the cool uncle <3

God's Favorite Whore: This should count as another favor, don't you think?

PhantomMenace: Yup. I'll be nice

PhantomMenace: 💚 ~2/20 Favors until Soul Return~ 💚

[sayoneee]

☆ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT

“i want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me” - taylor swift (1.6k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader. secret relationship: the three times u guys were almost caught and the one time u were. pre-tlt.

kashaf’s note: working on requests as well so dw!! again. i just like this 1 lyric from this song &lt;;/3

1. 

MORNINGS AT CAMP half-blood were both weird and normal — at a summer camp for kids with godlike abilities, you’d think that maybe they’d be cut some slack from all the monsters they’ve had to evade and maybe be allowed to sleep in some days, but no, life at camp half-blood was a regular survival of the fittest regime. 

or: eat, or be eaten, as you liked to remind your cabin. 

maybe that was why you were notorious among ares cabin, but to the rest of camp half-blood you simply embodied an other-worldly discipline, more of a tactician than anything, when compared to the rest of your half-siblings.  

“hey,” clarisse says in an undertone, nudging you as you take your designated seat beside her, “where were you last night?” 

your hand stilled as you picked up your goblet, shrugging your shoulders as the once-boisterous table came to a stand-still, eager to discover their shrewd head counselor’s indiscretions, hoping for something to loosen your high esteem for them: everyone remembered the time the entire cabin was put on cleaning detail for an entire month to repent for the mistakes of one.

your penchant for collective punishment wasn’t at all well-received among your half-siblings, but well, no one had really challenged you on your position yet, so.

“in bed,” you said, slowly, taking a sip, “why?”

clarisse shrugged, spearing a carrot from your plate, masking her annoyance with you — out of all of your half-siblings, camp half-blood, even, no one could boast of a relationship as close as yours and clarisse’s, yet no one could be more opposite. clarisse was chaotic, you were contained; clarisse was ruthless, you were just.

“i dunno, i just saw two people on the roof of hermes cabin.”

“and?” you drawled, ignoring the blood rushing in your ears, as the rest of your cabin looked on gleefully.

“one of them was castellan,” clarisse paused, searching your face for a reaction — you were grateful for all the nights spent in hermes cabin, because if not for the stolls persuading you to play poker with them almost every time, your expression would’ve never survived under clarisse’s scrutiny.

“the other one,” clarisse pauses as if thoughtful for once, then pointedly stares, pointing her fork at you, “looked like you.”

the other cabins are also looking in your direction as the dining pavilion is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop, before the table finally registers clarisse’s words, resulting in so much whooping and jeering, you’d think ares cabin won the lottery.

you snag a bite of clarisse’s pancakes, each word punctuated by a bite, “what would i be doing with castellan?” you pause, feeling the table pause with you. wrinkling your nose, you continued, “i swear, next you’re gonna say you saw us making out during capture the flag.”

you grinned as the table erupted into laughter once more, this time by your design. while everyone else went back to their original conversations, you’re summoning the memories of last night.

how luke had wrapped his arm around your shoulders and attempted to woo you with myths about the stars, how you had laughed and called him corny. how the moonlight had illuminated his face in the moment, when he laughed back, drawing you in closer, with his usual snarky response of, “you love it though.”

clarisse snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your reverie. she frowned, whispering, “you’d tell me though, if that was you, right?”

“yeah,” you nodded, trying not to feel guilty about lying — clarisse deserved the truth. but it went against your agreement with luke. you tried not to think about how you’re essentially picking a boy over your sister.

2.

like all things camp half-blood, if not careful, could result in death — like capture the flag, but did that stop you, or anyone else for that matter, in taking it upon yourself to make winning a matter of life or death. 

this week, you orchestrated an alliance with hermes cabin, because of their numbers and ability to launch unforeseen tactics, and hephaestus cabin, for their resourcefulness. it also didn’t hurt that the head counselors were your boyfriend and his friend, respectively.

you’re standing by zeus’ fist, discussing strategy with luke and charlie, while your respective cabins go off doing whatever it is to prepare, when luke’s sloppily-tied breastplate catches your attention. 

before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you’ve already reached forward to grab it, while charlie stares at you like you’ve been cursed by athena and turned into medusa. 

“so,” charlie says, slowly, “anything you guys wanna tell me?” 

luke is silent, watching you work, while you’re too busy focused on fixing the breastplate to notice the knowing expression on charlie’s face, one you would’ve been irritated by if you had.

“nothing,” you say, nonchalantly, whirling back around to face charlie when you’re finished, while luke gets swarmed by the stolls, “these things just bother me.”

“in general, or luke specifically?” charlie grins, that annoying, all-knowing look is back, and although reluctantly, you can see what it is about him that has silena beauregard so hung over. 

“in general,” you say as if it were obvious, as if you’re trying to convince a child that storks are the ones to deliver babies, and no, you’re not lying, (both statements hold the same level of ridiculousness), “it’s the adhd — makes it distracting.”

“uh huh,” he says skeptically, “i’ll take your word for it.”

you resist the urge to shake him and question him more, but before you can toughen up and just ask, “what do you mean?” he’s already turned away, and capture the flag is about to begin. 

3.

“what’s that?” annabeth points at the tiny “L” on your necklace as it swings to and fro, finally set loose from the captivity of your neon orange camp half-blood tee, hidden under your armor.

“what?” you glance down, dropping the sword in your hand to hastily tuck it away, all the while cursing both yourself and luke for being stupidly sentimental. (it was his idea after all, though, you’re not sure how or where he got the necklace from, but you didn’t really care if it was stolen — you wouldn’t put it past him, especially since he was a son of hermes.)

“was that for luke? are you dating him?” annabeth persists, eyes widening with question after question — nothing can satiate the curiosity of athena kids, especially not annabeth, not when luke castellan, her brother, is in the equation.

“no,” you say, trying to catch your breath from the sword technique you had just shown her, and the gaggle of younger campers who have now caught on, looking at you eagerly.

“no to what? no to the initial on your necklace being for luke, or no to you dating him?” another camper chimes in with a bright grin, probably a child of apollo, and you’re so close to shooting yourself on the spot.

“no to all of the above,” you grit out, really regretting being nice for one of the few times in your life, because no one had asked you, in particular, to demonstrate sword-fighting to these kids, luke could’ve done it, but where your boyfriend was concerned, you were too.

“then, how come you have an “L” necklace?” annabeth asks again.

“it’s my mom’s,” you lie, “i’m a year-rounder, so it reminds me of her — before all this,” you waved in the general direction of camp half-blood.

the campers ohh’ed in unison, but you knew annabeth wasn’t convinced.

you sighed, it could’ve been worse.

+4.

you’re not sure when or where the whispers that your boyfriend had returned originated, but after what seemed like eons of not seeing him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to verify the rumors before dropping your sword in the middle of training and sprinting toward half-blood hill to see him for yourself.

you ignore the calls of your name from your half-siblings, as you were kind of in the middle of demonstrating a technique, instead choosing to focus on more important things, like if your boyfriend was even alive.

when you finally do make it to half-blood hill, and catch sight of your boyfriend, with chris and charlie in tow, you don’t stop sprinting, uncaring for all of the whispers from the other campers as they look on. 

when you finally do come in contact with luke, you nearly tackle him into the ground, as he drops his backpack behind the two of you, arms coming to wrap around you to secure you, as you mumbled, “i missed you, asshole,” into the crook of his neck.

luke laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin, and you get off him, taking a step back. he starts to say something, “i —” but is cut off by you grabbing his wrist, and tugging him over your shoulder, his back slamming into the dirt ground. distantly, you can hear the rest of campers gasp, before buzzing with excitement. ignoring them all, you put your knee on his chest, bringing your forearm under his neck. 

“i swear to everyone, if you disappear like that again—” you begin, as luke cuts you off.

“i won’t,” he promises, grinning as you pull him up. luke slings an arm around your shoulder, and you finally notice the jagged scar running down his cheek. 

he catches your gaze and stares at the ground instead, avoiding you.

“you look kinda hot now with the scar,” you settle for, you know you’ll get the chance to properly speak about it later, but for now, this’ll have to do. 

a light pink dusts his cheeks, and luke, looking up at the campers gathered behind chiron, then glances back at you, smirking, “looks like you gave them quite a show.”

you glared at him, shoving him, “i’m going to kill you.”

luke shrugged, wrapping the arm around you tighter, “the damage’s done, now i’ll finally be able to hang out with my girl in peace.” 

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairing: Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (plus a bit of Bellamy)

Warnings: language, non con, oral sex (male receiving), forced exhibitionism, vaginal sex, rough sex, punishment, pain, humiliation, blood, cruel!Doffy playing with his human toys, possessive/toxic/abusive/controlling relationship, reader is at their breaking point, reader has suicidal thoughts but does want to live, Doffy is just being shit

Synopsis: You are Doflamingo’s wife and the queen of Dressrosa. But this status does not absolve you from your husband’s particular brand of discipline or cruelty. After offending the mad king earlier in the day, you now must suffer the repercussions. But as always with him, things are often more complicated than they first appear.

Author’s Note: Oneshot mostly inspired by this single, overly suggestive (in my opinion) Doflamingo statue shared by @physics-of-one-piece . But also the Pink song of the same name here! Terrible, terrible flamingo man… 😅

Fic Masterlist

——————————

Poor Bellamy.

That had been your very first, very useless thought as the so called “Bullet of Dressrosa” had walked into the library grinning.

The smug look and new strut in his step told you that he was playing errand boy for your husband again.

What did Doflamingo want now?

You and your egomaniac spouse had had a rare, very loud, very public argument this morning in front of both his crew and the servants. Stemming from his continued tortures of the citizens in the underground of course.

Horrors you just couldn’t look the other way on any longer, if you ever really had. 

The servants had thought you’d just been angry on behalf of the prisoner gladiators from the colosseum and not the toys which languished all around them though.

You hadn’t given up your husband’s real secrets.

But he’d been so affected by your uncharacteristic defiance regardless. He’d been in a bad mood for days before now too really. Maybe this was just the final straw.

So you’d kept to yourself, drinking wine and reading in the palace library ever since. The king was too busy to have dealt with you immediately earlier.

But you knew that he would.

If you were lucky at all, it’d only be in the form of you begging for mercy tonight, beneath him in your shared bedroom again instead of strung up and screaming in the dungeons below.

Which was exactly what all this wine was for. By the time Joker would retire for the night, finally turning off the snails and coming for you like the savage he really was, you hoped to be as drunk and numb to him as humanly possible.

But that plan was now being derailed as you’d glanced up with tired, narrowed eyes to one of your king’s other biggest fools.

Second in idiocy only to you of course.

Because Bellamy hadn’t been the one to actually marry that monster after all.

Yet the young pirate was so embarrassingly proud as he’d approached you. His smiling face the straight up mimicry of his master’s normal expressions. “Doflamingo requests you at the pool, your highness. Immediately.”

And you didn’t like any of that either of course. Your brain churning with all the awful possibilities that could mean. Only doubly insulting to you with how oblivious Bellamy still seemed in it all.

As if it really were a simple summons and not a potential walk to the gallows.

But you had no choice. 

You never did.

“Fine.” You downed the rest of your wine glass before reluctantly placing your bookmark to leave the book you’d been working through on the table.

You’d straightened your dress as you’d stood, doing your best to ignore Bellamy’s now puffed out chest as he got the privilege of escorting you back through the corridors of your own home.

And soon out into the sunlight and exuberant voices of the courtyard that you were not at all in the mood for.

Most of the busty, string bikini crowd were there in full force, hitting a ball back and forth, splashing one another, and climbing in and out of the rectangular pool like it was their private playground. 

And Doflamingo himself was there as well, seated dead center as if on his throne. Purposefully choosing to be the visual focal point in all that other movement and noise.

Girls in g-string bottoms, who were carrying snacks and alcohol on trays for him, had to step out of your way as you did approach that large couch and Dressrosa’s smirking ruler with your arms crossed over your own body defensively.

It could have been comical for how overdressed you were in comparison to every other female now in this yard.

But you’d also already felt his harsh gaze from behind those sunglasses, roaming you the moment you’d stepped foot outside regardless.

He was always watching you.

Always ready to prey on you in one way or another.

“And where was the queen hiding this time?” Doflamingo questioned Bellamy, stretching his own long arms out across the back of that couch. In a way that spread his already open shirt even further to show off more of his muscular chest.

“She was in the library…sir.” And you heard just that hint of flustered reaction in Bellamy’s voice when more of the king’s tan skin and two pierced nipples had come into view. Those small gold piercings glinted briefly in the Dressrosan sun as they were exposed.

Which was Doflamingo’s attention seeking intent to begin with of course. Bellamy’s obvious obsession with his own captain being just another passing entertainment for this narcissist.

“Predictable.” Your husband scoffed at you and your comparative non reaction to his display however. “Were you pouting, reading your little morality tales then, darling? Did the unlikely hero triumph over the dark hearted conqueror yet?” 

And Doflamingo’s long tongue had edged briefly out at the mention of his fellow dark hearted, still trying so well to bait you.

“No. The villain still reigns. Healthy and immovable.” You answered coldly, looking dead into those reflective sunglasses. 

But you had no intention of bantering out here in the blazing heat either. You knew Doflamingo was going to do whatever he had already decided to do, whether you played along or not. “So just tell me why I’m here, and let’s be done with it.” You said, cutting to the chase.

Which his smile did finally fade at that. The rarer frown beginning instead. Which was always a far more honest expression in your experience.

Honest and wholly dangerous.

“Well…that is unfortunate. And here I thought you might have been willing to apologize for once.”

The change in his voice was actually very subtle, despite what he’d said. But the shift in his body language was not.

You could only stare at first as those previously crossed legs suddenly opened wide across the couch.

Very wide.

A provocative position you’d seen many times within the privacy of the royal chambers in fact. 

Always just before this animal would lasso your neck with string, and yank your face down to greet that hardened weapon he only barely concealed in the best of times.

And your body must have tensed in realization.

Because his voice was slipping into something more saccharine then as his teeth began to bare. “Something wrong, mi cariño?

It was akin to a rattlesnake’s rattle. 

But still another lie, in that this was not a warning at all when he had already chosen to bite you.

“Sugar.” Doflamingo then drawled to his other subordinate who had still been eating grapes beside him. “Be a dear and go find something else to do. Bring Dellinger with you too.”

And that little devil who was only “little” in her appearance looked up at him and then to you. But she was unbothered.

Sugar stood up on the couch with her basket of grapes, walking along the cushions before hopping off at the end to not have to climb over the new wall of her captain’s legs.

You only glanced as she did leave obediently with Dellinger moments later.

Baby 5, Buffalo, and Monet must already be elsewhere as well.

Your stomach was beginning to twist terribly. Your skin now felt clammy.

“You really are forgetting your place.” Doflamingo said more flatly there once they had gone.

But you wanted to now be dragged anywhere with less eyes instead, to have your punishment be carried out behind locked doors at least. Though the whole castle may still hear your cries.

“Doff-“

And his fingers jerked before you could finish even his nickname. His other hand had already moved down against himself too, the heel of his palm rubbing his groin roughly as you saw the shimmer of strings emerging in the sunlight.

Just before your knees slammed down to the stone tiles in front of that couch.

Hard enough that you made a gasp of real pain, with the bone of your knee caps losing easily to the stone.

Out the corner of your eye you saw Bellamy’s copycat smirk finally falter from where he still stood. 

But his master’s chest rumbled in a deep chuckle, in tandem with the delayed quieting of the remainder of the courtyard.

“No one else leaves this yard without my permission!” Doflamingo ordered much louder then as you stayed kneeled before him. 

The new desperation must have been fully in your eyes too as you saw his head tilt at you in response.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. You didn’t mind at all when everyone was watching us earlier, did you? Disagreeing with me, chastising me. I’m only giving you more of that audience you so clearly desire, aren’t I?”

Doflamingo’s thighs were still spread, almost unnaturally in that extreme flexibility of his. Your face so close to all the bright fabric and body heat.

“So get to work then.” He commanded you next. “Because the pavement is hot too isn’t it? It’ll only scorch that soft skin more and more, the longer you delay, dearest.” His dark smirk curled upward again.

And it was beginning to burn. The ache of the initial hit fading enough for you to feel that hot stone through the thin fabric of your dress you were now kneeling on.

But even as your trembling fingers began undoing the drawstrings of his pants, he still did not relent in his continued cruelty.

Even this was not yet enough for him.

“Bellamy.” Doflamingo said abruptly, with insulting informality in the context of what was already being done to you. “Come here and hold her hair back from her face. She’ll be sweating soon enough in this travesty of a dress. I don’t need that dripping on me too.”

And that was just another purposeful barb by him to twist the knife even further.

Because the long sleeved, ankle length dresses which had become your seemingly pious trademark among Dressrosa’s people were solely the product of his own behavior.

You would have loved to feel the freedom of the breeze on your skin again, and even the sunlight too in reasonable doses.

But all that extra fabric was there to cover your ugly tapestry of scars no matter the weather.

Years of string cuts, and the constant bites, bruises, and sucking marks left behind from this largest physical and emotional leech that the New World had ever seen.

Yet even Bellamy’s blind obedience must have stuttered at such a surprising order.

Because you saw the impatience beginning in Doflamingo all over again.

The Heavenly Demon scowled threateningly. “Are you even listening to me, Bellamy?”

“Yes, sir! It’s just…” He stammered. “You always said we’re not allowed to-“

“To touch the queen?” Doflamingo finished the words for him. With his brows lowering in a way that meant he was now glaring through the both of you. “But who owns the queen?” Doflamingo questioned as his hateful voice grew that much louder again. “I do.” He then answered his own question for everyone. “So hold her tightly while she completes her punishment.”

And you’d never felt more worthless. More defeated than you did then and there as Bellamy’s clumsy fingers scraped the sides of your face in front of everyone.

He couldn’t risk his master’s ire by hesitating further.

But the heartless king just smiled again as soon as Bellamy’s black leather pants came to brush behind you. The younger man held your hair out of the way just as instructed. Your scalp in his grip as well, as he stood behind you with one leg on either side of your own while you still kneeled.

Your husband relaxed back into the couch at this submissive sight. Pleased at last with his hips jutting forward just that bit more towards you.

Of course Doflamingo wouldn’t let himself be caught lacking in front of everyone either. That was why he’d been rubbing his groin harshly with his hand before.

Between that physical touch and the view of you now helpless before him like this, you knew he’d be fully up and ready by the time you did get those awful capris pants pulled all the way open.

The only unexpected thing for you was in the way you did feel Bellamy’s grip twitch against your skull when Doflamingo’s long cock had indeed sprung free into the air.

This was surely Bellamy’s first time ever seeing it at all.

And part of you wanted to reprimand the fool to say that this wasn’t the time to be impressed.

But you’d fallen for it all too in the beginning. Hadn’t you?

So hot and bothered for Doflamingo when you were younger. Easily seduced and dumb enough to think yourself lucky whenever this pirate had first obsessively courted and then fucked you over years ago.

When he’d deceived you with both his body and his words, pretending that that initial level of care and attention was the real him.

Long before you knew just how many nights you’d only be bleeding around this torture device instead of worshipping it. 

Doflamingo’s rock hard cock had never been intended for anyone’s pleasure but his own. 

And he quickly proved this again, still smiling as he’d given it an abrupt stroke from base to tip before aiming it directly for your mouth.

The courtyard was fully silent.

The king and queen of this country were about to perform public fellatio all because you’d dissented one time too many in front of others this morning.

Doflamingo had hurt you so many times, in so many ways.

But not like this.

Your tears were forming before his length ever touched your lips. Before he forced his way past them. The head of that thick cock moving beyond your teeth immediately after.

“Push her head down.” He grunted at Bellamy, trying to angle himself deeper already without letting his ass fully leave the couch.

And you gagged as soon as that command was dutifully followed.

“That’s it.” Your husband only laughed at your clear distress. “Get a rhythm going, you two.”

It was humiliation beyond words. Spit slid down your chin and the tears ran quickly to join it. Bellamy only made it so much worse every time too, as you’d tried briefly to resist those subsequent pushes.

You needed to breathe, but you were given no time to. You were being fully choked by the continued shoves and the slamming of the king’s cock against the back of your throat.

But Doflamingo didn’t care.

“Harder.” He ordered again, voice urgent even as heavier arousal already began to cloud it. It took him no time at all to be consumed by these sensations.

His perfectly defined abdominal muscles began tensing and releasing already as his breathing quickened while you only gagged on him again and again.

He was getting off too much, too fast actually as your mouth moved up and down against your will with every further push.

You understood his body’s signs well. Meaning, Doflamingo would have to force himself to calm back down if he wanted this to last at all.

But you knew all the other things which would set him off as well. You could stop this here and now by using any of those tricks.

Yet only if you didn’t fear what else he would do to you in return. But did that really matter anymore?

As dark as your thoughts often became in this hell, you’d never really tried to do it.

You’d never wanted to end yourself with your own two hands.

Just as you’d never been able to harm him either. Even when he slept beside you, vulnerable and taunting you each night with that trust of his steady heartbeat beneath your hand. So guiltless and comfortable, regardless of whatever new sins he’d committed against you and others every single day.

You could never pick up a knife or one of his pistols, no matter how many nights you’d lain awake knowing that you should.

Because he was the villain of this story.

But you were not the hero.

You were nothing.

And you could not endure it any longer.

You still couldn’t breathe. But you could make your hand move as it came up without warning and thrust itself into those still open pants to grab your panting king right by his most vulnerable flesh.

His sensitive sack, big and heavy as always as you squeezed those balls so hard just beneath the base of his now spit soaked cock.

Doflamingo gasped in your surprise attack. His thighs jerking, with long legs trying to close defensively in his moment of true pain.

Yet your monster liked pain.

And you knew exactly what his body would actually do in further reaction as he’d tried to pull back out of your mouth to stop that overstimulation in time. 

But Bellamy hadn’t understood what was happening of course.

Bellamy had kept you pushed tight onto his master’s length just as ordered instead of releasing you.

Enough that Doflamingo couldn’t escape as he did cum prematurely right then and there. Fully unwilling as those hot ropes of semen spattered your airway and the king of Dressrosa shuddered pitiably with an angry moan.

You’d ruined his show.

You’d just made it look like the strongest man on this island, and maybe in all of this part of the Grand Line had no sexual stamina at all.

A brutal knee did impact your chest in immediate retribution, knocking you back fiercely with a crack of bone to bone.

But Doflamingo’s cock had finally left your mouth in all of that chaos.

You were coughing and sputtering while Bellamy hit the ground with you. The force had been too unexpected for him when you’d slammed into him.

And as you’d laid on Bellamy, with your lungs trying to refill, your terror had also waited for the strings to begin ripping through you both.

Yet the very next scream wasn’t either of yours.

It was your husband’s. 

“Get her out of my sight! NOW!” Doflamingo practically roared in the purest of that white hot rage.

And your muscles had frozen.

But Bellamy’s hadn’t. His reflex had been to fall right back into that hopeless obedience. 

He’d picked you up as if you were weightless. His springs had coiled at his legs, and he’d launched you both from the courtyard and that eruption of true fury within a single leap.

——————————

You were still shaking. Bellamy had cleared the roof easily, and the two of you had landed elsewhere on the king’s plateau.

At some point he’d realized his arms were still fully around you. And it was almost as if that impropriety was what frightened him even more as he abruptly let go.

Your feet met the ground and you stumbled before straightening up to look at him still in your own shock. But whatever you’d first wanted to say to him didn’t come. His expression looked so lost. Yet he wouldn’t make eye contact with you now.

So your gaze drifted down to his deeply breathing chest instead. And right to your husband’s jolly roger that Bellamy had so stupidly defiled his own body with a tattoo of.

That mark was no different than all the scars that branded your own chest.

You and Bellamy were the same.

“Go!” Your voice broke as you finally found it. “Leave while he’s still distracted by his rage at me! Take the first ship out of port and never-“

“No.” Bellamy cut you off through a clenched jaw. His stare at last met yours. That momentary confusion was already leaving him. Denial was flooding back in again to cover it. “This is just another test of our loyalty. He-”

And you wanted to either strike him then, or fall to your knees and beg.

“He doesn’t care about us!” You screamed through a hoarse voice.

Because who would feel anything for an ant or a fly, even if killing them accidentally? 

Doflamingo saw himself as a god.

And you were all only the pawns. Every single one fully replaceable.

But Bellamy’s heart wasn’t yet shredded like yours. He still had optimism, he had lies and excuses one after another.

“It’s not Joker’s job to care! He only wants the strong in this family...he chose us!” Bellamy dared, even with his head bowed submissively to you.

You were still the queen. He thought you were somehow above him. You could not reason to deaf ears.

You let out a sound of pained frustration, turning your back to him in a twirl of your dress as you headed for the walking path which led back towards the palace.

There was nowhere else for you to go. Nowhere in all this world or any sea that the devil wouldn’t hunt you down to finish this.

“Then be well, Bellamy. Survive in this prison for as long as you still can. And if I don’t see you again…then by your logic, that just means one of us wasn’t strong enough for this family.” You said with another exhale through tears while you walked away. 

But you heard that continued delusion behind you even then, though he did not try to stop you. 

“You’re his wife…he wouldn’t...”

“He would.” You promised.

————————————

You didn’t change your clothes once back inside. You didn’t clean your face or try to hide. You just laid on your and Doflamingo’s bed, curled and listless while you awaited the inevitable.

You closed your eyes and eventually dreamed of nothing.

Because miracles weren’t real. And heroes didn’t exist.

Darkness had fully crept over that room by the time your eyes did open again.

The sun was gone, and the monster’s weight was already pressing you down painfully into the mattress.

The bed creaked as strong hands bunched your dress up from behind and then yanked you up onto your knees.

Doflamingo grabbed you by the back of your neck after, keeping your face and chest shoved down so very hard as his hips lined up to what he first wished to take.

He never allowed you to wear underwear any longer. So there was no other barrier before you’d cried out as he’d slammed himself into you at full force.

There was no foreplay, no words of warning. He was just fucking you relentlessly at very first contact, growling like a vengeful animal while he stabbed into you over and over.

The bedsheets had always been dark fabric of one hue or another for this very reason. So the frequent blood stains didn’t annoy him when they rarely laundered out well. Those droplets that’d be running from you soon enough while your eyes remained tightly shut.

His thrusts became too rapid, too close together for the pain to even separate anymore then. It was just constant, and debilitating as your tears ran freely again.

And then it was over.

Doflamingo shuddered violently, and you felt that final pulse from the base of him as hot seed overran your insides just the same as he’d done to your throat hours ago.

That man was briefly on all fours after releasing your neck again. He panted with his torso still high over your back and his arms walling you in on either side. He was holding himself up with both his hands splayed against the bed.

It took him a moment to regather his voice as he recovered.

But the sound was still rough, not its normal smoothness at all when he did at last speak.

“You have been a very stupid bitch as of late…”

His excess release was still dripping from you as he slid that now softening cock back out. And with your differing heights, he actually had to crawl backwards on the mattress. Enough to even your and his shoulders up before he collapsed down on top of you. 

You grunted in further pain for that additional physical insult as well. 

He was fully nude, his chest hot against your still clothed back. His lips brushed your ear as you kept your face turned to the side against the bed. 

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you, dearest.” He warned lowly.

You obeyed reflexively through the continued tears when your eyes had opened again. “I…I just couldn’t breathe.” In the courtyard earlier, when you’d made your surely fatal choice in order to stop that public assault. “I couldn’t take it…I can’t anymore…”

And he laughed at you. Right in your ear.

Just before he bit it.

You cried out again, trying to curl up once more to keep him from tearing into anything else.

But his hands forced between you and the bedding. Your thighs stung as he raked those claws over your legs to break into the thin layers of skin once his fingers had clamped down.

“Doffy!” You begged without shame by then. Not for your life, no. It was far too late for that. You just wanted it all to be done. You wanted it to be quick.

And his laugh was even louder that time.

His angriest version of it actually.

“You don’t even understand why you’re being punished, do you!?”

His voice was rising. The same as when he’d yelled at you this morning before you’d hid yourself away in the library.

But you couldn’t meet him there this time. 

You were done.

Your voice was so quiet in contrast, but wholly broken as your fingers dug helplessly into the sheets. 

“Please, Doffy! Just do it already!”

He was still holding your thighs. The torn skin there now dripping blood into his palms. He grabbed harder into that mess, his body still laid over yours with his suffocating weight.

“You fucking idiot!” He was furious, and he bit the side of your face that time. Those white teeth nailing you right at your jawline from behind in retaliation.

And you thrashed in reaction, but he was far too heavy. All the cursing and crying in the world wouldn’t move him an inch now.

“You think this is what I want!?” He screamed at you fully then. You didn’t have to look back to know the blood vessels in his forehead would be throbbing.

But you had no chance to even try to answer either before those same blood stained hands flipped you. He was back up on his knees, straddling you as you were thrown down to the mattress all over again.

The sunglasses were gone. His eyes were widened in that familiar rage as his teeth grit above you.

You stared up at him, helpless with your throat and underbelly now facing the beast. 

He could eviscerate you. He could paint this entire room red.

Yet he didn’t.

Doflamingo grabbed your tear stained, bleeding face instead.

“I don’t care about what you did in the courtyard. I was never going to leave them as witnesses regardless. They’re already gone.” He hissed, with his voice dropping again from his prior outburst.

And your confusion was real. As was the new heartbreak of your eventual realization. Because of course he was right. You could still remember the emotion, the humiliation of being watched in the courtyard today.

But you couldn’t remember any names, no actual faces. They were gone, purged from your memory.

All but one?

“No. It’s why you did it. That is what matters. You’re being punished for this goddamn addiction of yours!” He kept right on talking though, not letting you focus on trying to yet reason out any of it. “You and your self pity! Your self destruction! You don’t get to decide when you leave me! You don’t get to leave here at all!”

And then his mouth was over yours.

Doflamingo had leaned down, his lips capturing your own in a way that was equal parts desperation and extreme frustration. 

His fingers had moved into your hair. He was pulling it as he kissed you over and over.

But even he had to breathe. Your eyes had stayed open in your fear, and you saw the way his lips jerked downward against his will in the brief moments he’d come up for air.

He was so emotional. He was fighting it and losing completely.

His eyes even looked pained, confused when he had fully paused again.

“I saw it…clearer than ever this time.” Yet the accusation against you was still so evident in his tone. “You wanted me to kill you. And…I…if that mongrel Bellamy had been any slower...”

Yes, Bellamy was the one name and face that still existed in your mind from earlier. He had not been taken to Sugar then, even while all the rest had. Bellamy had been the only one to whisk you away before his master could give in to those worst impulses.

“Doffy…” The sudden tenderness in your own voice disgusted you just as much as your hand that then reached for your husband’s face.

This was an incurable disease, a terminal affliction.

And he leaned his face into that touch without hesitation. 

“I only spared him because of that. At least for tonight.” Doflamingo finally admitted. His deep voice was so much quieter while you petted him. 

Bellamy had saved your life then.

And you had fully scared your own captor in how close it’d come to being otherwise.

“I do want to live.” His rare honesty brought out much the same in you. “But I’m so tired…I really am.” You told him.

“I know.” He was laying on you fully again, chest to chest as he buried his face against yours. He only shifted to grab the blanket, pulling it over the both of you protectively. “But it doesn’t mean you can leave me. You can’t ever do that…”

You were stroking his scalp by then, still feeling suffocated under his significant weight as his eyes closed against your skin. 

“I’m sorry, baby…” You whispered like the gutless thing you really were.

You weren’t even allowed to die once you’d finally tried to.

The last light of hope was fully gone.

“I still love you.” And he checked those locks to say it to you of course. He had to always make sure you hadn’t loosened a single, invisible chain between the two of you before he could rest again.

You belonged only to him.

“I love you too.” You tried not to whimper in your shame.

But the tone didn’t matter to him. It was enough for you to also still be saying it.

Every day, every night, year after year until the true end. 

He was the villain. You were the pet.

That would never change until a real hero could step in. Until storms and miracles would one day come that you didn’t yet believe in.

You didn’t even know that that was the stuff of your lover’s nightmares. As his arms wrapped you tightly, needfully. 

You dreamed of freedom. 

But he feared the day that it would finally come true.

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! 💖🦩

[blackknight-kai]

Wukong and Cat

I just think it would be funny to see Wukong dealing with a house pet. Specially a cat. (Maybe a dog but that’s not the point today) - In this Wukong can travel to the modern day to stay with you (before you fully commit to staying in the past with him Edit: yes taking the cat with you).

See, cats are…cats. Yes they can be skittish or friendly, mean or weird as hell. They come in all shapes and sizes both in body and personality. They consistently push boundaries - keeping them off counters am I right? And sometimes as the slightest change they do awful shit to tell you it displeased them - pissing outside the litter box because you moved it a few feet from where it normally is or got rid of their favorite chair.

Cats are entitled and they run the house. You ever been hounded by a cat that woke up from its nap and thinks it’s dinner time but they don’t eat for another 3 hours? Yeah it’s annoying. (We love them)

They are our mini gods basically.

Wukong would NOT do well with one at first.

It doesn’t listen to him, it gives him dirty looks 24/7, he doesn’t know what the hell it’s up to or thinking but he knows it’s plotting harm to him, he knows it’s mocking him as it watches him form its perch across the room. The damn thing even had you on a feeding schedule!!! It OWNS you!

But it will not own him. No. He is a free monkey. A KING! The Great Sage Equal to Heaven and Earth! No house pet will have dominion over him.

You even buy it toys it seems to play with 1 time before and never again. You spoil the ungrateful shit. It also sleeps with you, but not since he came along much to his pleasure. Yes furry asshole, that’s HIS spot now.

He finds it ridiculous that you even scoop up its fucking shit that it leaves for you. At the very least it covers it up but why are you its designated poop scraper? He doesn’t understand why it doesn’t shit and piss outside like every other animal. He may be a king but he’s never had anyone shovel his shit!

So when you ask him to help with the house chores one day, specifically handling the litter box and trash, he is taken aback. Him? Use the tiny shovel to scrape out its excrement? Oh absolute not. Hell no. Not on your life.

He is a KING. He does NOT shovel SHIT. No. He doesn’t budge until you glare at him. He can tell you’re getting annoyed and he doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him.

Wukong, thinking he’s being a genius summons a clone and decides the clone can handle the shitty sand. But then the clone also refuses. Starts arguing with him! The audacity! This goes on for several minutes, neither clone or original giving in until you come into the room having heard the heated conversation.

You tell him with a tone of finality to stop being a monkey cub and grow up, that if he doesn’t sift the litter by the time you come back he’s sleeping on the couch - one night for every turd and pee clump you find in that box. You stomp off to finish the laundry and Wukong & Clone look at the doorway with slight surprise. Clone snickers and gives Wukong a smirk, saying “Looks like our Queen has spoken, the King is on turd duty.” Before offing himself and disappearing with a cackle as Wukong curses his own cheekiness.

After several minutes of staring at the box with disgust he hears you walking through the house and his heart races. Quickly he grabs the weird little shovel and starts sifting, as you step into the room he smiles at you as if to say “See I’m a good boy” and you give him a look before going back to your own chores.

Wukong doesn’t DARE push you enough to ruin his nightly cuddles with you. No. Nothing is worth losing that. So he scoops the damn cats box and as he does so he hears tiny footsteps. Looking over he sees your cat watching him, as though supervising him. It pisses him off to no end that the house pet is looking at him so smugly. “Who’s the king now.”

Grumbling under his breath Wukong finishes his task and finally stands up straight. As he does so he looks at the furry animal. “Is it clean enough your highness?” He asks sarcastically but then his eyes widen as the cat steps towards the box.

To his utter annoyance and anger it takes a shit! RIGHT AFTER HED JUST CLEANED IT OUT? HOW DARE!!!!

He throws a tantrum he will deny to this day about it to you and you laugh saying that yeah, that happens almost every time. It infuriates him to no end. But he loves you and you love the cat. So he can’t do anything that would bring the little asshole harm or he’d risk losing you which is NOT an option.

He hates the damn thing so much.

But one day, while he’s napping on your couch, he wakes to a weird rumbling on his chest. Groggily he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little and is met with the sight of your cat curled up on his chest, eyes half lidded and watching him, its purring. He lays his head back down and tries to be annoyed by it. But the damn purr is soothing….it’s genuinely kinda nice. And his chest is warm. If he ends up stroking your cats fur making it purr louder until the two of them fall back asleep? That’s between him and cat.

[ithebookhoarder]

Hiiiiiii, Could i request an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic where Anthony married reader who is from a lower class (basically like Theo) and they end up having a fight because reader did something that would be considered out of class or simply wrong while she’s trying to learn to be a viscountess. Sorry if it didn’t make any sense English isn’t my first language 😭😭😭

All's Fair in Love and Cricket (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Synopsis: After getting into a fight with your new husband you decide to settle your differences in a 'sporting' fashion, whilst reminding Anthony once and for all just who he married.

A/N: Ohhhhh boy did I enjoy this one. I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed or clunky in places, I may make some more edits at some point. I struggled with the flow of writing so much action but I loved it too much not to post it. So yeah, anxiety be damned else this would join the rest of the unposted drafts I have stashed away. I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Warnings: Anthony being a stupid idiot, class references (discrimination), reference to illness 

Masterlist

It was late summer and as the sun beat down on the green lawns of St James’ Palace the lords and ladies below began to wilt. Many a woman held her parasol above her head in a desperate attempt to remain cool, which was hard when you wore petticoats and had nothing to do but sit and watch the men play cricket for hours on end.

Even Her Majesty looked like she was struggling to make it through the afternoon's entertainment, her attendants desperately fanning her where she sat under her canopy. They looked close to melting in their ornate gowns, however they were clearly willing to endure if it allowed them to continue admiring the game - and more importantly, those playing it. It was like waving a bone in a dog’s face as they watched all the eligible young men of the court sprinting about the green, their physique and athletic talents on clear display.

No wonder the Queen had her opera glasses with her, despite her proximity to the field. 

You almost felt bad for them, watching as the men were subjected to the same treatment as the young ladies were night after night at social functions… hence the 'almost'. After all, there was a sense of satisfaction watching them preen and dance about like show ponies on display. That, and the view wasn’t exactly a terrible one when your husband was one of those playing. 

You’d have endured sitting on that blasted green a thousand times over, baking in the afternoon sun and surrounded by swooning women, just to watch Anthony Bridgerton as he captained his team. 

Being one of Anthony’s oldest and dearest friends, his competitive nature was well known to you (for which you had one too many games of Pall Mall at Aubrey Hall to thank), but it seemed to be out in full force today. You’d simply lost track of how many times he had dashed back and forth, working up somewhat of a sweat as he barked orders at his teammates in a desperate bid to ensure victory. It was no surprise to you that he had subsequently been forced to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves, exposing his rather sculpted arms to those watching.  

As you said, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon - and normally, you’d have been smugly lapping it up, however, today you were unable to truly enjoy yourself. Not when all you wanted to do was march over to him, take that cricket bat and give him a good whack or two. Maybe that would knock some sense back into idiot… 

That was the issue with being in love with your dearest friend: those who knew you best also knew the best ways to hurt you, and Anthony’s behaviour at dinner the following evening had proven just how true a statement that was. 

It had all started after the entire family had been summoned to the townhouse for a dinner, to toast you and what had so far been a successful first Season as Viscountess Bridgerton. At first, everything had appeared normal, with the usual laughter, merriment, and ease that one would typically experience at a Bridgerton gathering. It was what had first endeared the family to you, back when you had been but a small child, living at Aubrey Hall as the only daughter of their Stable Master. 

They had never been anything other than kind to you, inviting you to play with their children, and join them in their daily lessons. They had also bought you gifts on your birthdays, invited you to join them at events, and even paid for the finest doctors when your father had fallen unwell several years ago. It was as if, to the Bridgertons, your family was their family - an attitude that they extended to the all members of the staff that kept their ancestral seat running. It didn’t matter if you were Head House Keeper, or the greenest of scullery maids. Everyone was counted and cherished, and the Bridgertons had earned utmost loyalty in return. 

The rigid rules and divisions of high society didn’t appear to exist within the wisteria covered walls, and it had been that way well into your young adult life. In fact, it had been you that had initially rejected Anthony when he first declared his love for you one day, after taking you along with him on one of your many afternoon rides. 

You’d been the one to remind him who he was and that society expected him to marry someone they deemed worthy of him and his title - and that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a penny to your name beyond the small sum you’d saved from helping with the younger Bridgerton children as a governess. You didn’t have a title or an estate or anything to bring to a marriage. 

“Except the most important thing!” Anthony had pleaded. “Love… I love you, and there is no one else for me in this life except you. Life is short, terrifyingly short. Look at my mother and father… to be without the person you love most in the world is an agony and I cannot bear it. Please. I can’t lose you. I will not spend my life without you, knowing love is within both of our reach but that we were too afraid to grasp it? If I cannot spend my life, no matter how long it may be, with you then I will have no-one. No-one. My brothers can have the title. I don’t want it. I only want you.”

He’d continued to insist that for the following 6 months, even after his family had moved to their London house for the Season. It didn’t matter how many beautiful, eligible, wealthy heiresses he was introduced to. He would entertain none of them. He would have none of them. Only you. 

It’s what he’d continued to insist until you’d eventually accepted, realising that he was right; Love was the most important thing and you both deserved to have it in your lives, come what may. 

So, you’d said yes. 

You’d become engaged and gradually made your way out into society as the new Viscountess Bridgerton, armed with the support and guidance of the Bridgertons. 

Which brought you to last night and the dinner that had been organised to mark the end of the most challenging, but rewarding, Season of your life - and the dinner had started so wonderfully. Yet, somehow it had all gone to hell in a hand basket in the mere blink of an eye thanks the well meaning, but ill timed, teasing of Colin and Benedict.

Your brothers-in-law had both decided to raise a toast to your first Season as an ‘official’ member of the family and they'd got off to a rather complimentary start, if you were being honest. However, they had somehow moved from their praise on to reminiscing about the many years and many adventures you had had since joining their family.

Whereas every anecdote had caused the rest of the family to spiral into more laughter, your husband had looked more and more infuriated. In fact, Anthony had warned them not too kindly to ‘sit down’ and ‘shut up’ about your childish behaviours, which of course had only encouraged them further. 

“Oh, hush, brother,” Benedict had quipped, raising a glass to your successful debut. “She knows we mean it all in good fun. After all, she once had a phase where she refused to wear shoes and would walk barefoot around the estate, traipsing mud everywhere! I think we’re allowed to be surprised by how far our dear darling Y/N has come.”

“It’s true - It’s a miracle,” Colin added, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “The transformation is remarkable. Who knew she would go from feral ragamuffin to lofty Lady Bridgerton.” 

Anthony’s only response had been to tighten his grip on his glass to the point it looked like it would shatter. 

Whether it was the residual stress of your busy social calendar, or something else entirely you had no idea. All you did know was that Anthony was angry, and even your gentle touch would not soothe him. 

In a desperate attempt to calm him, you’d pulled Anthony out onto the terrace shortly after dessert had been cleared and asked what was happening. Much to your surprise, he had turned on you, venting about how childish his brothers were and how embarrassing it was that they were discussing things unbefitting someone who was a Viscountess. 

“They’re just joking, my love. They were doing it to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he’d growled, causing you to bristle. “They’re so immature. They need to grow up and realise we’re not children any more. That… that you’re my wife and joint head of this family.”

“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Anthony,” you snapped, the warning clear in your tone. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, I just - it - they’re… it’s embarrassing.” 

“So, you’re embarrassed? By what? Your family? Or me? Because everything they said tonight is true. I did do those things, as did you. I may not have been born a noble lady but you knew that when you asked me to marry you. So don’t suddenly act like you're ashamed, that you are somehow better than your family - than me.”

Somehow the argument had only spiralled from there, with both of you saying things you didn’t mean, and with both of you storming off and slamming the doors behind you. 

Even now, sat on the edge of the cricket pitch, the thought made your blood boil. How dare he? How dare he act ashamed of you and the wondrous memories of your youth together? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t grown and matured since then. You had done everything within your power to be worthy of him and his family, and yet all it took was one mention of the girl you had once been to make him upset?

As if sensing your silent fury, Eloise had been glued to your side since the moment you'd left the house. Her company had been a blessing, with her numerous whispered remarks and jokes, making the day almost bearable. One remark in particular from Eloise had caused you to burst out laughing in a most undignified fashion after watching Anthony trip over one of the opposite team - the Duke of Hastings of all people. 

You still weren’t quite sure how they had been positioned on opposite teams, but you were sure there was some kind of wicked divine intervention responsible. Who else would think it a good idea to put two competitive men against one another? Your hosts, perhaps? After all, Lady Danbury and Her Majesty had organised the game and you had learned long ago not to underestimate the women - especially when they decided to conspire together. 

“How long is this delightful game again?” Eloise’s polite remark oozed with sarcasm as she leant back against the tree behind her. 

It was obvious she was bored senseless. In fact, you half suspected she would have already left had her mother not been sat on the opposite side of the green, watching her like a hawk. 

“I’m not sure,” you groaned in reply. “I lost count of who was winning about an hour ago.”

“So, we’re to be trapped here for eternity?”

“Pretty much, considering this part will not end until either Simon or Anthony lose, and we both know that neither one of them will concede defeat easily.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I thought they were bad at Pall Mall-”

“-LOOK OUT!”

The cry interrupted both of you as you turned in surprise. Given the so-far sedimentary tone of the day, neither of you had expected such excitement as numerous Lords and Ladies began to hurl themselves out of the way as a stray cricket ball rocketed through the air, towards the crowd. 

“Good god!”

The exclamation seemed apt as both you and Eloise ducked, watching as the ball sailed past, causing several yelps and groans from the people around you. You were pretty sure you also spied a glass of lemonade flying through the air in all the chaos. However, your attention was drawn to the figure charging towards you to retrieve the offending item as it rolled to a stop. 

Anthony.

“Pardon me, Y/N,” he murmured, reaching down to collect the ball that now lay a small distance from your feet. You nodded in greeting, aware of the many eyes watching but you elected not to say anything, not trusting yourself not to make some snide remark.

As it was, you both had barely said more than a handful of words to each other since your argument last night.

Clearly sensing the lingering tension between you, Anthony quickly turned to address his sister instead. “Eloise.”

“Ah, brother," Eloise cheered. "Splendid play so far. Tell me, when did the object of the game become the decapitation of the ton? I would have attended far more cricket matches had I known that was the aim of the game.” 

“You can blame Simon for that one,” he replied, his taunt hidden beneath his neutral smile. “Still, good dodging back there. I thought he might have nearly caught you both.”

“Almost.”

“But alas he missed, like most of your players today,” you quipped, enjoying the way Anthony seemed to redden at the reminder of his team’s less than stellar performance. “Still, good effort. You’ve almost caught up with Her Majesty’s team. I believe that’s better than last year.”

“Well, that might have had something to do with the fact that she does have Simon,” Anthony grumbled. 

It was true, no one could out-run Simon - even if Anthony always gave it a damn good try: hence why the Queen often had him captain her team when he was in London for the season. Besides, the head of the other team was usually Lord Duval, due to his position as the Queen’s chief administrator. However, it seemed his brains and financial strength were all he had, due to the fact his social skills, and athleticism were sorely lacking. 

“Touché, and who is up next?” Eloise asked. 

“I don't actually know. The other team seem to be taking remarkably long to sort themselves out.”

Just then, almost as if on cue, three men began to hurry towards them.

A quick glance revealed that one of the gentlemen who was approaching was Colin Bridgeton, and the other the Duke of Hastings; that much you knew. The third was rather unfamiliar to you, however, you were pretty certain he’d been playing on Simon’s team. Regardless of his identity, neither he nor any of the other gentlemen now stood in front of you looked very pleased. Rather, they looked as if they had all sucked on a lemon, their frowns were so deep.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I must reclaim Lord Bridgerton here for a moment. It appears Anthony will be needed to bowl again,” Simon sighed by way of explanation.

“What on earth for?”

Colin was the first to answer. “Lord Dingby is unable to bowl on account of the heat, and the Baron will not play.” His skepticism was clear as he shot the so called Baron a disapproving look. “He ’twisted his ankle’ or so he claims, thus we are down a bowler and the other team is down a player.”

You all rolled your eyes.

“So then, who will bat?” questioned Eloise curiously. “If Anthony is bowling you still require one more man to take their place on the other team?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour. However, no one appeared to have an answer, and by the disapproving glare steadily growing on the Queen’s face, they didn’t have long to come up with one. 

“Maybe Lord Stevens?” suggested the third man hastily, staring around at the crowd. 

“No. He injured himself riding the other week,” Simon replied. “And unfortunately our hosts only saw fit to invite enough male guests as were playing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice regarding possible options.”

It was true. There didn’t seem to be any visible answer in sight given that those most suited to the game were already positioned on the field. 

“What about female guests though?” 

Your question hung in the air for a moment, causing everyone around you to turn in surprise. 

“Excuse me?” Anthony looked at you suspiciously as you began to rise from your seat. He was well versed enough to know when mischief was afoot. A fact that was proven right a moment later as you held your hand out towards a shocked - and excited - Colin.

He was only too happy to oblige your silent request as he placed the bat in your grip. It was rapidly becoming the most exciting event of the season and lord knows he wasn’t about to spoil the fun - especially if he got to rub salt into Anthony’s wounds at the same time. 

After all, given his display the previous evening, it was time you truly gave him something to feel embarrassed about. Losing.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” you smiled. “You’ve seen me when we’ve played Pall Mall. I have a decent enough swing. Besides, you said yourselves you need an extra player and there isn’t exactly anyone suited left - not anyone male, anyway.” 

“Anthony?” 

To his credit, your husband was also smiling, even if you could see the sudden tension forming behind his perfect smile. “I see no problem with it. I’m sure our hosts would prefer the game finished rather than called off because we ran out of players.” 

“Agreed. Well, it’s settled then.” Simon cheered, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder as they looked back towards the field. “It seems she will be taking his go.” 

Then they noticed the rain cloud of a man next to them.

"She can’t play!” protested the third man. Everyone looked at him in silent disbelief. “This is a gentleman’s game. A Lady can not play."

“Her Majesty seems to have no objections,” Eloise commented smugly, glancing across the field. Indeed, it was true Her Majesty seemed to have no objections to the turn of events, choosing instead to exchange a wad of pound notes with the man beside her. If anything she looked exhilarated by the prospect. "Besides, I doubt a feeble female such as ourselves will pose any threat to your team, your Lordship.” 

“Well… I… Bridgerton, I still don’t think-” 

Thankfully, Anthony was all too busy gazing at you to take any notice of the pompous oaf’s objections. 

It was a look you were more than familiar with, the unspoken desire and encouragement obvious in the way his gaze softened. It was the same look he always gave you when you’d done something amazing (and most things were amazing in his eyes). It didn't matter if it was taming a particularly unruly horse, solving a maths problem that left the rest of them scratching their heads, or daring to step onto the dance floor at your first ball, knowing not another soul in that room other than him.  

It was a look that made you feel invincible. That you could do anything and everything you put your mind to as long as you had Anthony cheering you on from the sidelines... you were a team. Always.

"Anthony?" you asked, the challenge obvious - but also your sincerity. If he truly did not want you to play then you'd have marched back to your chair and sat right back down.

You'd meant it before. You loved your husband and wanted nothing more than to be the best partner you could be. Your hurt from last night had stemmed from the fear that, for a moment, that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fortunately, it appeared you were wrong. Your husband wasn't embarrassed by you. If anything, he looked ready to kiss the ground you walked on as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, "If you can get four runs, I will personally pay you 5 pounds."

"You have a deal," you laughed. "As it is, women and ladies alike play cricket up and down the country. It’s high time we had a chance to show you boys up."

The other man began to protest again. "My Lady, my La-" 

He never got very far. You simply stopped, turning and handing him your parasol and shawl.

"Thank you," you cheered marching away.

He paused, taken aback. It didn’t help that Eloise was only too eager to firmly pull him back into your now vacant seat with a glare that could have melted ice. 

All around applause broke out as the players resumed their positions on the field. It took a moment or two for them to prepare for play but now everyone seemed to be watching intently. 

Oh well, if you were to dare to play at all then you may as well dare to achieve something from it, you mused, gripping the bat handle and aligning yourself with the wicket. Victory seemed a rather good start, especially given the fact you had no idea what Lady Whistledown would make of this turn of affairs. You’d already had a shocking enough entrance into the world of the Ton, what was one more daring display?

"Go easy, Lord Bridgerton," the referee cautioned from the side of the green. 

Anthony nodded obediently at the crowd’s titters. You could see the restraint he was demonstrating, choosing not to hurl the ball at you the way he would had you both been in the privacy of your home. Instead, it took all his will power to grip the cricket ball and resume his position on the field. 

Unfortunately, you never knew when best to desist from poking proverbial bears. That, and Anthony was too easy a target. 

"Yes, do go easy on me," you jibed. Everyone who knew you could hear the sarcasm buried in your voice as you took the bat and fluttered your eyelashes at him. "I’m only a delicate woman, but I must endeavour to ensure her Majesty’s team at least has an opportunity to best you, Lord Bridgerton. You’re only losing by what? A few wickets?" 

Oh. You were in for it now. 

Anthony’s grin was devious as he stepped back a few paces, weighing the ball in his hand till finally he charged at you, swinging his arm over in the perfect bowl. 

It was then you brought up your bat to send the ball back in a high arc. 

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone followed the ball with their eyes. It was as if they couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to hit it. However, the shock quickly wore off as everyone remembered the point of hitting the ball in the first place. 

"GO!" came a yell from the crowd as excitement began to spread. 

So, you did.

Hitching your skirts in one hand, you began to sprint towards the other set of wickets, grinning as your partner passed you along the way. 

Of course, you would have liked to protest that you could have indeed run faster had you not been encumbered by your stays and petticoats. Your slippers were also rather terrible for any movement. What you wouldn’t have given for a pair of trousers right then. 

"Come on!" came another yell - it seemed as if everyone was forgetting their dignity in all the excitement as you tore back and forth across the grass in a mad blur. 

Had it been anyone but you, it would have been a terribly scandalous moment. Yet, your name - and the status of your betrothed - meant this was all merely seen as sport. Besides, from the way Her Majesty was whooping from her perch by the trees, it was clear where her loyalties lay.

"Come on Y/N!"

"Anthony! Run!"

"Over here!"

"Come on!"

The cries blurred into one as you finally turned at what you planned on being your final run, only to spot Anthony as he came sprinting back towards you… and the wicket.

"Oh no, you don’t," you laughed, charging onwards in a final burst of energy. 

You could hardly catch your breath as the world slowed around you. 

All that remained was you, Anthony, and the closing distance between you. 

You could see his desperation laced with delight as he watched you stagger towards the wicket… just as the ball he’d thrown hit it.

"IN!" 

The referee’s declaration initiated an eruption of noise as all around the green, men and women celebrated the spectacle they’d just witnessed, and the victory you had now ensured.  Within seconds you were swarmed, mobbed by well wishers and triumphant team mates. There were so many hugs and snatched ‘well done’s that you were quite at a loss what to do other than stand there and accept it. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to have read your mind and was at your side as soon as he was able to fight through the jubilant throng. 

The moment he reach you he took your hand in his. His expression was a mixture of awe and contrition, clearly unsure what to say to you.

"Good game," he praised. "Simon better watch out - I think Her Majesty will be asking you to captain her team next year."

"What a tremendous idea, Lord Bridgerton. I may just do that."

As if summoned by the very mention of her, a voice rang out clearly from behind you. Without even turning you knew exactly who was standing behind you, as the throng suddenly fell silent around you and parted like the Red Sea. In all the excitement you had failed to notice the Royal party making their way across the field to join in the celebrations. 

With a gulp, you turned and dropped into the most respectful curtsey you could manage without falling flat on your face. "Y - your Majesty."

The Queen chuckled. "I must thank you, Lady Bridgerton, for providing such excitement to our proceedings today. I also must thank you for the twenty pounds I just procured off of Brimbsley - that’ll teach him to bet against me."

You merely dipped your head in gratitude, unsure whether this was actually happening or not. After all, the closest the you’d ever been to monarch was your hasty presentation several months ago and that had barely earned you more than a curious glance, like you had been some exotic animal on parade at the Zoo. And now, the Queen was addressing you? A lowly Stable Master’s daughter? 

It was enough to make you feel as if this was all some kind of surreal dream. 

"Anyone who bets against your Majesty deserves to be relieved of their coin."

"True, True," she preened, gesturing for you and everyone else to rise. "I gather you have played this game before?"

"Growing up around the Bridgertons ensured I had little alternative," you confirmed, relieved when the Queen proceeded to chuckle good-naturedly. 

"I dare say you didn’t, my dear. Well, it certainly makes for a rather entertaining afternoon, as well as a victorious one. Perhaps we aught to have women playing more often." She turned her head and chose to direct her next words directly to your husband. "You’ve chosen quite the bride, Lord Bridgerton - you are to be congratulated on choosing such a spirited partner. I hope you realise how lucky you are."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Anthony replied, the earnestness clear in his eyes. "I’ve realised just how truly unique and remarkable she is… and how lucky I am that she chose to be on my team, even if not on the cricket pitch."

Another round of laughter echoed out at his declaration but you knew it was more than just a jest. In fact, by the all-too-clear pride radiating off of the eldest Bridgerton you knew what he truly meant with his honeyed praise.  

It was all the apology you could need and had you not been in such company you’d have dragged him into the bushes and shown him just how much you forgave him. Besides, your victory on the Cricket pitch was enough pay-back for both of you. 

As if sensing the amorous tension steadily rising around her, the Queen chose that moment to make a well-timed departure, in search of a refreshment. She barely gave you all a final nod before marching off to greet the rest of her guests, leaving you stood there with a rather gobsmacked expression on your face. 

"Well… that really happened," you murmured, struggling to maintain your newfound confidence now that the whole saga had come to an end. "Did I actually just do that? Did the Queen actually just … talk to me?"

"She really did," Anthony confirmed, hands grazing yours nervously, as if unsure whether or not you’d accept his touch. However, your hands accepted his readily, fingers intertwining as you squeezed his palm in an obvious attempt to ground yourself. "You truly were incredible today - I know you don’t need to hear it but, for what it’s worth, I am proud of you." 

"Thank you."

"And I truly am sorry for being such a world class fool, last night," he continued swiftly, clearly keen to make his apology whilst you were willing to receive it. "I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was embarrassed by you. I never could be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I was vexed with my brothers and because of several other trivial matters, but I allowed my temper to get the better of me and I handled it poorly. I lashed out at the wrong person - the one person who deserves nothing less than to be told how incredible she is, every single day. I am unworthy of you, Y/N. I know no one else in the entire world so awe inspiring and to let you think otherwise for even a moment was my failing entirely. You are brave and smart and funny and kind and beautiful-"

"Ok, Anthony. I get it."

"-and I am unworthy of someone with such skill on the cricket pitch-"

"Anthony," you squealed, trying to hide your laughter as he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face in kisses. "It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, I also lost my temper and said some things I didn’t mean. Can we just agree we’re both sorry and put this mess behind us?"

"Yes! God yes," he sighed, looking like a weight had visibly lifted from his shoulder. "Because I really do not like fighting with you. Instead, I think we should be enjoying your victory parade. Today is your triumph, after all - the Queen’s champion." 

"Hmmm, I rather like that title," you purred, gazing up at him. "But between us? I prefer being your wife, much much more."

[thalwri]

confessions for lovers - kaldur'ahm

synopsis: you find yourself wondering why Kaldur has been so distant as of recent, so when the opportunity arises for you to confront it head on you make sure you don't leave it to fate.

warnings: dry humping, fantasising sex, a lot of grinding, smut, lowkey fluff

kaldur'ahm x fembod!reader ; characters are aged up!

word count: 4,4k

MDNI!!!

After his return from Atlantis, Kaldur’ahm seemed to fare better than how he was during the team’s mission in Bialya. Spending multiple hours exposed to the dry air of the desert, especially without the core source of energy that keeps him functional, had thrown him off just a bit. Being forced to spend a week in his home after having another mission with Roy as well must have soothed the blow. The issue was, he still seemed distant. 

You had tried to meet him at your usual spot where the two of you have made a habit of conversing or gossiping, but he barely shows. You tried to ask him directly if he was okay and what was going on in his mind but he would somehow - and effortlessly, to your irritation - move around it and avoid answering your suspicions. Even talking about the bores of reporting after each mission didn’t make him budge.

“Kaldur’ahm.” Normally saying his full name in a serious tone, like the one you sometimes use when you’re viciously enraged, would work to get him to listen. And he did. His gaze had averted to the mission report he was drafting to you. 

“You’re worrying too much, dear friend,” He calmly smiled at you. His charm had already begun to melt into you. That feeling that it would all be fine because he said so almost disarmed your persistence. You believed he was using some type of Atlantean sorcery on you, but it didn’t occur to you that you were choosing excuses for your response rather than accepting that it may just be something else. Something more.

You attempted to try the external approach. You had probed Artemis and Wally to try themselves and pestered Dick until even he admitted he didn’t have much of a clue. You had made your attempt with Conner and M’gann too since they had also visited Atlantis with him; they were both reluctant to speak on it. At that point you considered begging your mentor to ask Aquaman what happened in Atlantis, but what would the king of an underwater kingdom be doing with his mentee’s personal affairs?

It felt as though you would never get the chance to see what was going on with him. You were just about to give up, until you were blessed with a summons to a mission briefing.

Conner and M’gann were assigned to play as the Terror Twins - Tommy and Tuppence Terror - to investigate a suspicious upcoming transfer of the Icicle Jr and Mr. Freeze to Belle Reve instead of their initial placements for rehabilitation and punishment. Batman emphasised the heavy suspicion of how easily incarcerated they were along with their instant petitions to be moved, hence assigning just the two of them in.

“Who inside the prison will know their true identities?” Kaldur asked in concern, most likely for their safety. 

“No one,” You both furrowed your brows. “We can’t be certain the prison staff isn’t compromised.”

And that forced them to essentially be on their own for the duration of the mission. That didn’t explain why you and Kaldur were involved.

“Then what is the task for Aqualad and I?” You couldn’t really see what your purpose in the mission was. “If Miss Martian and Superboy are the only ones within, where does that leave us?”

“You two, along with Red Tornado, will be monitoring the situation closely but securely from the outside.” The Bat’s voice rumbled around the main hall of the cave. His presence has never failed to make you shiver in slight fear. Even though you’ve been trained by him alongside your mentor for years, he was still quite terrifying. 

“Should anything happen inside, an escape plan will be set in place by the two of you to efficiently remove Superboy and Miss Martian. Beyond that, your job is to observe and maintain contact with them for the duration of the mission.”

You nodded in understanding. You thought about the entire ordeal in a stretch of detail. There was an opening, a really good opening, for you and Kaldur to talk but you had grown so agitated that you didn’t think it was worth bothering yourself about. A mission like that was designed to be lengthy but you expected Conner and M’gann to be efficient.

You hadn’t realised it would last days.

M’gann had prepared the bioship to accommodate for the extensive stay they were having outside the prison. Bedding, food, and all the adequate necessities were there and ready for when they were needed. Not that either of you would sleep. With the patrols and monotonous report readings from the rest of the team, you had found yourselves over occupied to engage in leisurely activities.

You gripped the blade stored on your thigh tightly, keeping an eye out for unwanted surveyors from the tree you were hiding in. Every two hours or so, you and Kaldur did monitoring rotations to ensure everything was undisturbed outside of the bioship. It was capable of camouflaging effectively, but you took precautions anyway. 

A telepathic voice slithered into the surface of your mind. M’gann’s voice. A brief update of the happenings within Belle Reve revealed that the plan for a breakout has been put in place, and is going to happen soon.

”Time to pull you out.” His soothing voice made your ears warm as you stood on the branch you were previously kneeling on. A hatch opening above the bioship opened for you.

“Icicle would only postpone.” M’gann quickly objected, and you couldn’t help but agree. You had a feeling that dealing with a breakout would be more than just a headache to handle, especially if all the prisoners are out. “We need to learn how they’re busting out, or they’ll just try again.”

Once you were certain the coast was clear, you jumped off the tree and landed in the hatch opening above the bioship to land directly into the cockpit.

“Agreed.” The final telepathic message sent through by Kaldur has the opening closed above you. 

You rose to your feet, adjusting your mission attire and glanced at him. He sighed and leaned back on his seat, crossing his arms. His gills flared slightly as his large muscles flexed as they moved. You could almost count the veins pulsing against his skin icons, almost like his electric power was harnessed through his blood. You wouldn’t really be against getting electrocuted by those muscles.

You watched his lips curve and purse as he probably reported back to Red Tornado, the specifics of his words went in through one ear and left through the other. It was only when you heard the mechanical whirring of Red Tornado’s head turn to you, did you snap out of your daze.

“External surroundings are clear.” You reported, your eyes focused on reeling and binding your blade more securely to your thigh. Although you couldn’t truly confirm it, you could feel a certain gaze fixed on you. You chose not to acknowledge it.

“Affirmative,” His synthesised voice echoed through the cockpit. “Then it would be best if both of you rest for the rest of the day. Should anything happen, I will call.”

With a curt nod, you walked into the depths of the bioship towards your chosen room. It was a temporary placement, of course, but you couldn’t help but bring along some books along with your weapons and shield to give it a slight homey sensation, even if it was just for days. You had also packed a change of clothing and mission attire, knowing walking around in the same clothing would feel disgusting at some point.

The mere thought of Kaldur’ahm began to agitate you. The two of you were good friends, having shared your secrets and fears with one another, having a secret area at the cave where you would sit for an hour and do whatever came to mind be it swimming, reading, training, or merely talking. Sure, there were those moments where hands touched places they weren’t supposed to be, and lips were kissed - specifically under the strict conditions of ‘spin the bottle’ when you were playing with the rest of the Team - but it didn’t truly make anything out of them. Right?

You were friends. You told each other everything. So why was he holding back now?

You leaned on the wall dragging your hands across your body, feeling restless. Something about him today left you feeling starved with desire. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it certainly wasn’t welcome especially in the middle of a mission. Feeling more attentive to his voice, eying every intricate movement, imagining the feeling of his flesh against yours– you were losing your grip on control and restraint. The break would be your best chance at expelling it before things got worse.

Your hands traced over the curves of your breasts to your waist, feeling a slight tingle of arousal left in its wake. To be both angry and horny over Kaldur was a new experience, and you weren’t too sure on how you felt about it. On one hand you would give him a colloquial form of the silent treatment, addressing him in the duration of the mission but when you had time to yourselves, you wouldn’t give him the time of day. On the other hand, you could lock yourself in your room and tend to your body’s untimely needs so that it won’t bother you for the rest of the mission.

Alas, being petty wasn’t your forte and succumbing to your needs while being emotionally conflicted didn’t seem like it would reap a good result. 

Your hands fell to your sides in defeat. You would have to brood instead.

Just as you were about to strip off your uniform, a soft knock caught your attention. You called for whoever was there to enter, but you had a hunch of exactly who it was.

“Are you alright?” Kaldur’s smooth voice sang to your soul. You could feel the anger starting to melt away, and the arousal started to bubble deep within. It appeared your body had a different agenda than your mind. 

“I should be asking you.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. Kaldur stepped inside, allowing for the door to slide shut behind him. 

“You’ve barely spoken since we got here,” He reached to hold your arms, a usual habit he had to try look into what was affecting you. A method to make you feel comfortable in knowing he was there for you. “Talk to me.” His kindness and sincere concern sent butterflies bullying your stomach, but you held firm in your resolve.

“Ever since you came back from Atlantis, you’ve been off.” You start, slightly stepping back from him. “Every time I ask, you either are freshly occupied or you change the topic. When I try to organise a chance for us to even spend time with each other, you avoid it. You avoid me.”

You felt a short pinch in your chest after saying that. You didn’t truly acknowledge the hurt until it was spoken aloud. “If it’s because of when we kissed, or those other times and how’s it conflicting with… you know, it’s fine and I get it. But that doesn’t mean avoidance is the answer.”

He remained quiet for what felt like hours, his face slowly became more solemn. You quickly worried that you said something incorrectly or hurt his feelings before his hands gently held yours.

“I have been holding off with you for a while,” He acknowledges, watching you avert your gaze. He taps your chin with a finger, asking for you to look at him. He just adores eye contact with those pale green eyes of his. “Regarding our activities, I enjoyed them. Truly. And this has nothing to do with Tula either– well, it did but I have since come to move on.”

“You’ve looked so strained lately,” You added, feeling like you needed to understand more. “What’s been happening?”

He stared at you quietly, with the familiar gaze he has when he calculates things in his mind. It was going to take time before he decided what would be best for him to share with you so you took a wild guess. “Did Roy say something to you during your mission with him?”

Kaldur’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. You merely shrugged. “You know I’m good at guessing.”

He broke into brief laughter, almost vibrating from the accuracy of your guess. “Yes, Roy did tell me something rather daunting,” His smile quickly faded. “But it’s a delicate matter I believe would be dangerous to share with anyone outside of the two of us. That, alongside the strain of healing after Bialya has left me worse for wear. I hope you can forgive me.”

You felt bad. He was going through so much. His hands reached to hold your face, a gesture he has only done twice. “And regarding you especially, I think it’s time we address the elephant in the room.” 

You like him. Like, like like him. And you’ve known for a while. Was he going to expose and reject you for it?  Was he going to be more avoidant afterwards? Multiple negative thoughts were buzzing in your head, so much so that you barely heard what he had said.

“What?”

His lips curved into a handsome smile. “I said, I know of the feelings and affections you hold for me. And I want you to know I feel the same way.”

Your brain must have shut down because you felt frozen in place. He returned the feelings you have for him. Kaldur’ahm. Liked. You. Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly as you struggled to figure out what you could say. 

“I– Kal–“

Kaldur grinned, pinching your cheeks. “I know,” Almost as if he had read your mind, extracting what you had intended to say to him. “And I’ve been wanting to do something since I came to realise how I feel.” His face drew closer to yours in a tantalisingly slow pace. “If I may.”

You took no time to hesitate or ponder, the moment the yes left your lips his own had taken its place. His arms engulfed you in his embrace, slowly reaching up your back as the level of urgency and need slowly increased. The air began to stick to your skin, heat rising to your face.

You briefly pulled away, watching Kaldur lean forward to kiss you again. “Say it again.” You commanded. Face flustered yet determined, Kaldur bit his lower lip and leaned down to your ear.

“I like you. Quite a lot. And I want to continue kissing you while I still have my restraint.” He leaned close to you with his body, gently guiding you to the couch directly next to the bed. His eyes erratically bounced between yours and your lips, as if unsure which of the two were worth more to admire. 

Arms still tightly coiled around you, you pulled him back into your passionate embrace, greeting his lips with your tongue and suckling nibbling until both of you had swollen lips. In a near lustful dance between heavy breaths, and pecks, you were lifted up and carried mid-kiss and plopped onto his lap while he rested on the armchair.

“I find you enticingly attractive,” His lips travelled from your lips to your neck, covered by your mission attire. His teeth grazed over the fabric as his grip on you tightened even more, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You knew Kaldur had this kind of energy within him, but to experience it was something completely different.

“I find you charmingly intelligent,” His tongue traced the path his lips took, leading back to yours and pulled you into a breath snatching kiss. You almost felt like putty in his arms, instinctively moving your hips against his in need. He groaned, holding you down to keep you from moving again. You could almost hear the blood surrounding your pussy thump and throb in titillation.

Feeling a bit of cheek you circled your hips around him. Your hands kept near his face, raking his short hair, stroking his face as your lips reconnected. A low moan reverberated in your mouth, a vocal representation of his muscles flexing harder to keep you from moving again. Just to ensure you would effectively receive the message, his hips pushed against yours making you very aware of a very hard, throbbing bulge beneath you.

You paused in your movements, a small gasp being your immediate response. Another sharp thrust hit you in surprise, the full awareness of its size settled in your mind. “Fuck, Kaldur.” 

Oh. Oh. It felt remarkable. 

“I take it you like what you feel.” Kaldur grinned, his warm breath fanning your clothed neck before he pressed a gentle kiss on you. If only you could rip off everything you’re wearing. His hips thrusted up against you once more, forcing you to silence a whimper by holding your lips between your teeth. 

“I like a great many things about you,” You sigh in pleasure, slowly grinding against his erection. Your mind grew fuzzy from the feeling of his cock being just layers away from your pussy. You felt your clothing start to soak from how wet you were getting.

“Being a great,” Kiss. “…strong leader.” You moved down to kiss his collarbones, afraid of touching his gills in case they were sensitive. 

“Being a compassionate,” Kiss. “…generous companion.” Your hands traced the skin icons from his biceps to his wrists simultaneously. You took the time to delicately trace over each and every vein you could see, which only deepened your arousal for Kaldur. 

“Most especially this,” Your tongue left a trail of saliva from the ridge between his collarbones, to his Adam’s apple, to his lips, engulfing him in your need and desire for him. Your grinding eventually synced with his gentle thrusts, gradually going faster and harder against each other. Losing your breath, along with your inhibitions was no longer a concern. For the time being, there was no mission. It was just you and him.

His erection was growing larger and harder by the second, occasionally twitching and aggressively grinding against you. Feeling it pulsate against the layers between your clit drove you into a hazy frenzy. 

Short breaths, rubbing fabric and hushed moans filled the otherwise silent room. Your eyes were fixated on Kaldur slowly unravelling his restraint through his moans, his impulsive kisses and sultry licks and bites on the skin that wasn’t covered by clothing, the uncontrollable juts of his hips, and his hands being everywhere on you from your face to your breasts, and to your back and ass which he seemed to delight in particularly. His eyes were locked on yours as if he was lost deeply within and the only thing keeping him somewhat grounded was your voice, the pleasure boiling within him, and the chance of being caught or heard. 

“You are so beautiful,” He whispers as his lips tickle your cheek. You raised your hips just to drop yourself onto his bulge, eliciting a mixture of a groan and whimper from him. Merely thinking about clamping around his cock got you soaking further into your uniform, got you wetter, more dazed in hunger to devour him. 

The skin icons on his arms glowed brightly as his grip on your hips tightened, pushing you back and forth on his cock as it twitched beneath your pussy. One hand latched onto your waist, pulling you closer until his face was flush on your breasts, tongue swirling around where he assumed your nipples would be. How he got the exact spot, you couldn’t tell. 

Your nails clawed his arms in a sore attempt to maintain balance and control of yourself, to stop yourself from cumming just from grinding over him. The possibility of taking him inside you was right there and you wanted the energy to do it through the night if that was even possible. 

You could just picture yourself relentlessly bouncing on his cock, his lips all over your bare chest suckling light bruises onto you, feeling so overly drenched in cum and sweat that it gets you hornier than you should be, needier than you thought you could be. The thought of whispering the dirtiest of your desires into his ears and Kaldur responding dutifully by bringing your wishes to reality made you moan.

Your daze within desire was snapped back into your mind when you felt his hand smack and squeeze your ass, fondling and massaging it with lewd care. “I- I’m getting close-“ His head fell back onto the chair, adjusting his grip on you to push himself deeper into your clothed pussy. The friction was bringing you dangerously close, your thighs beginning to shake, and your core tightening in warning of you nearing climax. You frantically nodded to him, almost silently begging him to do just as much. You leaned down entrapping your lips with his instantly receiving a welcome from his tongue accompanied by a harsh groan from the depths of his throat.

With one arm coiled around his shoulders and the other reaching up to the back of his head, you pushed your body into him until it hurt. You wanted to be one with each other. Beyond the clothes. He was still swirling his tongue against yours, occasionally pulling it back to tug on your lips in a passionate, lustrous kiss. Huffs of your name escape his lips in syllables with each sharp thrust he pushes against you. You hiccuped moans in the only way you can properly respond; trying to actually say something would sound like a bundle of incomplete sentences.

“Want you,” you groaned, scratching his muscles. Your clit pulsated its final warning, threatening to release its tension until a harsh thrust let it all out. “Need you- fuck- Kaldur!”

You could almost hear the squelching of cum and wetness in your pussy, back arching and your head tipping back to release a melodic moan. Kaldur made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a giggle and a whimper as he rode you through your orgasm through quick, cruel thrusts until he stilled with a soft yet lengthy “fuck!” followed by a whimper of your name, slowing his pace as you both calmed, pants and huffs eventually easing into stabilised breathing. 

His hands gently held your face, pulling you into a more gentle, slower kiss, full of exhaustion and appreciation. His hands caressed your cheeks, warming your ears in a dazed form of excitement. Despite the last few minutes, such a sweet gesture was enough to make you flustered.

“I do enjoy your presence in my life.” Kaldur said firmly, still holding your face in his hands to lock his eyes on yours. “To be so conflicted by my grief is my own doing, you had no involvement in my distancing.”

“Really, I understand,” You replied, too exhausted to be stern with him. “Speaking to someone - a friend or even Black Canary - about these kinds of things is better than pushing through it alone.”

He nodded slowly, pressing his lips on yours again; he just couldn’t get enough of you. “I’m grateful you’ve given me the chance to straighten it out once and for all.”

Far from capable of giving another comprehensible speech, you could only nod in response. You nuzzled your forehead against his to signify your appreciation. 

“I didn’t anticipate this being the way I’d come to confess my feelings and attraction to you, but I am somewhat-“

“Pleased?” You grinned. “You did sound like it.”

His ears flushed in embarrassment, but he had the wits to bite back. “You look just as pleased if not more. I think you said you need me–“

A gentle knock at the door to your room brought you both to an instant silence. You stared at each other in worry. Were you too loud? Red Tornado called your name, to which you quickly acknowledged.

“It is time to check in with Miss Martian once more,” He said. It seemed like he didn’t notice. “And your patrol rotation can be cut short tonight, all seems well.”

“I’ll be there soon, Red Tornado.” You called, the only response was heavy footsteps marching away. You and Kaldur let out audible sighs of relief, relaxing from the tension.

“I believe you should get going,” Kaldur whispered, stroking your back then squeezing your hips with a subtle smirk. 

“So should you, fish boy.” You snuck a peck from his lips, leaning back before he could return the gesture. You reached to peel off the top of your mission uniform, stopping to tease him with your cleavage. “But first, we might need a change of clothes.”

The mission had gone successfully. The day after your unexpected bonding with Kaldur, the breakout attempt was thwarted, the prisoners returned to their cells dismally, and you left feeling much closer to Kaldur. M’gann and Conner looked as though they had a similar result

They sat close to one another, with their hands fondling almost like children having their first crush. Kaldur piloted the bioship and you sat up ahead, drafting the mission report as per the memories M’gann had shared with you.

“You and Kaldur seem to be close,” She grinned, as a seat morphed next to yours.

“I think that applies more with you, M’gann,” You grinned, though you couldn’t help but agree. 

“If you believe so,” She shrugged. “But do know your thoughts are rather loud when you’re… occupied with him.” 

You looked at M’gann in bewilderment until your eyes slowly widened as the realisation dawned upon you. It wasn’t uncommon for strong feelings to be read by a telepath without them actually trying. You just didn’t think, let alone know, that it applied to- well, that. M’gann winked and placed a finger over her lips, silently promising not to tell anyone before she flew back to Conner. 

You slumped in your seat feeling almost as flustered as you were when- 

You slapped your cheeks, swatting away the memories in case they waved off into M’gann’s mind again. A smile graced your face in satisfaction regardless. You know where you are with Kaldur, you know how he feels, and you definitely know what he wants. 

You turned in your seat to give Kaldur a glance only to find his gaze already on you. You both shared a cheeky grin. How it all happened, you’d never tell a soul. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[milaisreading]

hi hi hi how are you? i hope you're warm this winter season <3

i saw you were accepting yandere blue lock requests and i wanted to request one🥺:

yandere ness with his sweet/bold gf and kaiser turns yandere for her later on

🌱🩷: SURE! I hope u like what I wrote and thank u for the request!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. It's a yandere fic, so please don't read if u don't like those themes. Requests for Yandere Blue Lock are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Huh? Who is that?" The 9-year-old (Y/n) asked done of her classmates as they were leaving the school grounds. The two girls next to her turned to look in the direction (Y/n) was looking at, only to find a magenta-eyed boy playing alone in the snow, making some weird circles in the ground.

"That? That's Alexis Ness, he is in the same year as we are. Just a different class. Why do you ask?" A brown-haired girl asked.

"He seems... lonely. Should we go and play with him? It is a sad thing to play alone in the snow."

"What?! No way. (Y/n), he is a weird guy. Everyone stays away from him." A blonde girl said back, surprising the girl.

"Weird? He seems normal." (Y/n) said back as the brunette friend from before shook her head.

"You are way too naive, (Y/n). Trust me when I say he is weird."

"I heard he thinks he is a wizard and looks at some weird curse books. He even asked one of our teachers if our library has spell books." The blonde girl said as (Y/n) tuned them out for a bit.

'Spell books? He likes magic, too?' The girl thought in excitement as she observed the boy more. Suddenly, Ness looked up at her, his eyes widening in surprise. Smiling at his look, (Y/n) raised her hand, waving at him.

"Hii!! You have pretty eyes!" She yelled loudly, surprising not only her two friends, but also Ness. The boy blushed a visible red shade and said something, but nobody understood him since he was way too quiet with his reply.

"What are you doing?" The blonde girl scolded her silently, pulling her on one of her arms.

"He is giving me the creeps. Come on." The brunette girl added in, pushing (Y/n) away while the other dragged her by the arm.

"Hey! Don't be like that, he looks nice. And his eyes are pretty."

Ness watched the three girls leave, his eyes fixated on the (h/c)-colored girl as she repeated the same comment about his eyes. The boy's cheeks turning even redder as she repeated those words.

"My eyes... pretty?" The boy mumbled to himself, his heart hammering against his ribcage. A sense of disappointment hit him as the girl disappeared from his sight.

"As always..." The boy said, going back to playing in the snow. His thoughts were haunted for the rest of the day by the girl.

A week had passed since that incident, and Ness tried to forget about the whole incident. After all, nobody stays with him for too long. Why would that girl have-

"Hi! You are Ness Alexis, right?!" The boy jumped a little, looking up from the snowy ground and at the girl that was talking to him. The boy blushed a little, not used to this kind of attention from anyone, especially from a girl.

'It's her again?!' Ness gulped and slowly nodded his head.

"Y-yeah, that's me. How do you know me?" The boy asked cautiously as (Y/n) crouched down, looking at the small circles Ness drew into the snow.

"My friends remembered your name!" (Y/n) said, smiling at Ness. The boy's face grew even redder, slowly nodding his head.

"Why... why are you talking with me? Everyone finds me weird, you know?" Ness spoke up again which caused the girl to raise an eyebrow.

"Weird? I don't see it. You seem normal to me. What are those circles about?"The girl wondered, pointing at the snow. The boy stayed silent, face red as he mumbled something eventually.

"Huh? What did you say?" (Y/n) blinked, looking up at him in confusion.

"It's... Uhh to summon things." Ness repeated as her eyes widened in surprise.

"Huh? How does that work?"

"Are... are you really interested to hear that?" The boy gulped nervously.

"Yep! Show!" (Y/n) cheered as Ness slowly nodded his head.

And that's how their friendship started. Ness didn't know what exactly he did to make her interested in being his friend, but he wasn't going to complain. He found her curiosity cute, flattering even. Finally someone tried to understand him, unlike his siblings, parents, and kids in school. And although her friends tried to talk (Y/n) put of hanging out with him, she rejected the idea, even stood up for him.

Moments prior....

The classes had ended for the day and Ness went to look for (Y/n) in her classroom, she was always the last one to leave. The boy was in a quite good mood and couldn't wait to show her a new spell book he found.

"I am serious, (Y/n), that guy is weird." Ness stopped as he heard a feminine voice coming out of the girl's classroom. He knew that voice, it was the blonde friend. (Y/n) mentioned the girl's and the other ones name, but he never bothered to remember them. Partially because he felt slightly uncomfortable when her attention wasn't on him.

"He isn't. Please, give him a chance. Ness is really nice." The boy felt his cheeks heat up as he listened more.

'She thinks I am nice...'

"You say that now, but watch him pull something weird soon. Please, we worry about you. Why do you like playing with him?" The brunette friend said.

'What does she mean by that?' Ness was offended now.

"I like him, and he is fun to talk to. You guys don't have to be friends with him, I won't force you. But I won't stop hanging out with him."

Ness felt his cheeks flush once again. Nobody ever did that for him. Nobody ever opted to hang out with him after confronted by others.

"(Y/n)...." Ness mumbled as he felt a strange warm feeling fill up his chest.

Present time...

"Ness! Ness!" The boy jumped a little, startled by (Y/n)'s.

"Y-yes?" The boy wondered, surprised how close she was now.

"Are you alright? I was calling your name for a good minute." She asked in worry, which made the boy all giddy inside.

'She is worried about me!' Ness thought, nodding his head.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about a lesson."

"Oh, ok!" She smiled in relief.

"You wanted to show me something. What was it?"

"Yeah, I found a new spell that I wanted to show you!!"

A few weeks later...

Ness was used to the feeling of sadness, fear and loneliness, but rage? Rage was an emotion he never felt... until he saw (Y/n), his one and only friend get punched in the face. What was worse is that she got punched because of him. A group of boys had started insulting Ness and (Y/n), being as protective of her friends as she was, started arguing with them to stop. The verbal arguments slowly got more intense and in the end (Y/n) got punched. Ness was glued to his spot, eyes wide as his breathing grew heavier. The shock slowly turning into something he never felt before. He felt like destroying something, or rather someone.

"You got quite a big mouth for someone who hangs out with that weirdo over there."

"Don't say that...." (Y/n) glared back while holding her bruised cheek.

"What? You are a loser and he is a weirdo, maybe you two should hang out-"

"Don't say that about him!" (Y/n) yelled back now, punching the boy back. That caused him to fall down.

"He isn't a weirdo, you dumbass!!"

Ness watched in terror as the two started fighting, while the other 2 boys went to get a teacher.

Later that day...

Ness and (Y/n) sat in silence in the nurses office as the woman went to look for some bandages. The boy looked at her bruised face in guilt and anger. How could he not do something? How dare that guy hit her? Were some of the thoughts Ness had in his head. The boy clenched his fists and held back a few tears as he spoke up.

"Why did you do that? Why did you get hurt for me? I am used to those words, you shouldn't have jumped in-"

"You shouldn't be used to that, Ness!" (Y/n) yelled back, glaring at Ness. But, she wasn't mad, she was sad that he was used to it.

"I... I just don't like seeing you like this. You don't deserve it. And I would do this again for you, Ness."

"Ah..." The boy gasped a little as he stared at her with wide eyes. Something... Something definitely shifted in Ness that day.

Years had passed since then and both (Y/n) and Ness grew a lot closer since their elementary school days. During those years, Ness had developed a love for football, and while (Y/n) didn't understand much of it, she supported him in his passion. And while she was developed her own interests in art and fashion,Ness would be the first one to tell her to show her mentors the recent idea she got. Ness dubbed himself her #1 cheerleader, after all.

One thing that came to a surprise to (Y/n) was Ness confessing to and asking her out after he got scouted for Bastard München. The boy had worked up a lot of courage that day, and was over the moon that she said yes to him. He worked really hard on not only building up his courage, but also om getting rid of potential love interests of (Y/n). That part wasn't really that hard, now that he thought about it, a few intimidating words with his signature smile were enough to scare people off.

Ness already had planned out their future. (Y/n) will move in with him as soon as he got an apartment, then he will ask her to marry him, and they will live a happily ever after. But... Ness failed to see one person coming into their lives. His name would be Michael Kaiser... Bastard München's star striker.

It wasn't until his and Kaiser's first official game with the team that they met, and when they did... Ness was less than happy.

"Goo, Alexis!!! What a great assist!!" The magenta-eyed boy smiled as he heard (Y/n)'s loud voice and he turned to wave at her.

"Nothing but the best for you, (Y/n)!"

Kaiser, who was a few meters away, raised an eyebrow at the boy's words and the kiss he sent her.

"Hm? Who is that, Ness?"

"Huh? That's my girlfriend, (Y/n). She is so sweet and her smile is as beautiful as the sun." Ness sighed dreamily as he waved at her again. Kaiser pretended to puke and he grabbed the back of Ness' shirt.

"Focus on the game, idiot."

"Yes Kaiser, but don't insult me like that."

While most people didn't pay attention to the exchange, (Y/n) did. Her eyes narrowed at the blonde.

After the game had ended, most of the players went to change and take a shower, Ness, Kaiser, and their coach stayed behind for a while, which (Y/n) used as an opportunity to sneak up on Ness.

"Alexis, you did such a great job! I loved every second of it!" The girl cheered as she hugged the boy from behind. Ness blushed madly and turned so that he could hug her instead.

"You think? I was a little nervous in the beginning." Ness chuckled as (Y/n) nodded her head, kissed him on the cheek a few times.

"I couldn't be prouder of you." She smiled, causing the boy to stop and look at her for a moment.

"Really?" He asked with a red face.

"Ye-"

"Can you two stop that? You look so dumb." Kaiser's voice interrupted the two from talking further.

"Uh, Kaiser-"

"And you look like the rejected version of the Beast, what now?" (Y/n) said back, narrowing her eyes at Kaiser. The boy stopped for a moment and turned to look at (Y/n) as Ness tried to calm her down.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me." She rolled her eyes at his act.

"Now, mind your business." (Y/n) gave him a short fake smile and turned her attention back to Ness.

"Oh! I made you some dinner as well, since you told me you didn't eat anything. Come on." She said while pulling him towards the benches.

"A-ah... sure. Thank you, I completely forgot about that one." Ness blushed again. Kaiser was left both confused and shocked by what had happened. Not only did someone act like that towards him, but Ness didn't stop it either.

'(Y/n)... just what is wrong with you?' Kaiser thought as he looked at her for a while. He didn't even notice that he was staring until Ness glared at him.

'Weird... does she mean that much to him?'

For the next few weeks Kaiser spent some of his free time searching for (Y/n) on social media and observing her when she would visit Ness during practice. And every time she would visit, Kaiser would start an argument with her. It didn't even matter what the subject was, the weather, the clothes, the grass, they would argue. Ness would stop the arguments rather quickly, not wanting to get in trouble, but also because he wanted (Y/n)'s attention for himself. He deserved it! Kaiser won't steal those moments from him. He needed to stop whatever Kaiser had planned for (Y/n).

"Can you stop obsessing over my girlfriend, Kaiser. Get yourself another girl to fawn over." Ness asked, or rather demanded from the blonde as they changed in the locker room.

"What are you talking about, Ness? I hate her guts and you know it." Kaiset spit back as Ness sent him a side glare.

"Don't lie to me, Kaiser. I know that look, many guys had that same lovesick look around (Y/n), and all of them failed dating her."

Now, Kaiser wasn't usually the one to be confused, but this statement from Ness really took him by surprise.

"You must be stupid or blind, Ness. I do not like her, you can have her all for yourself. She just pisses me off." Kaiser repeated back with a much harsher tone. The magenta-eyed boy stayed quiet as he finished changing and then slammed the locker shut, surprising Kaiser.

"You better stay away, Kaiser. I won't let anyone get in the way of my happy future with her." Ness sent Kaiser a warning glare and left the room. The blonde stayed silent as he watched Ness leave, feeling even more frustrated now.

"That dumbass, can't he listen? I don't like that thing he calls his girlfriend!" Kaiser gritted his teeth.

"Her and that stupid know it all attitude. That stupid voice and those perfect eyes... and soft hair. The cute frown she makes when talking- What am I saying?!" Kaiser stopped himself as he realized where his thoughts were going. Slapping his cheeks a few times, Kaiser shook his head and continued charging into his clothes.

"I don't like that dumbass. She is just an annoying nobody. Ness can have her for all I care."

The blonde mumbled, trying to ignore the annoyance he felt from the last part.

That encounter happened last week, and Kaiser still to this day couldn't get Ness' words our of his head. Moreover, he couldn't get one particular line out of his memory.

'Can you stop obsessing over my girlfriend, Kaiser.' Repeated in his head whenever he caught himself looking at her pictures for too long, or whenever he found himself thinking of her. It was so weird, and it started affecting him to the point where he nearly injured his ankle. What was it about her that he even obsessed over? Maybe her personality? Or looks? It frustrated him to no end.

'I will end that dumbass once and for all-'

"Here." Kaiser's thoughts got interrupted by the same girl that was plaguing his mind for weeks.

"What is that?" The blonde wondered as he eyed the white container suspiciously.

"It's just some gel that is good to use for your muscles. Alexis said you nearly ruined your ankle the other day." (Y/n) replied back as she held the container in front of him.

"Why? Were you worried for me? I am touched." Kaiser smirked up at her, which made the girl a little angry, but she held herself back from yelling.

"No, I wasn't. I just don't want Alexis' team to lose because their star striker was too Charles's to look out for himself." She bit back.

'Because you idiot won't leave my head!' Kaiser wanted to say, he really wanted to put all the blame on her! But, he just couldn't bring himself to.

'Why?' The blonde wondered. (Y/n) stared at his silent figure, really curious as to what he was thinking, but she kept silent as well.

"Hmm... Alexis is back." She announced as the boy walked out of the locker room.

"Here, take it or leave it. I don't care. And, take care..."

Kaiser was shocked as he heard the soft tone in her voice and the gentle look that she sent him for a few seconds. The blonde looked back on the container that was put on the seat next to him. He hesitated for a moment, but then eventually grabbed it.

"Hmm..." Kaiser mumbled as he held the item and looked where (Y/n) was hugging and kissing with Ness. The blonde tightly grabbed onto it as his breath hitched up and eyes narrowed. What was this rage he was feeling? Kaiser bit his cheek as he kept on staring at the duo and wondered what it would feel like if (Y/n) kissed him like that.

'I wonder what her lips would feel like? Where they as soft as they looked?' Kaiser gulped, a red blush spreading across his face.

'And being so close to that scent of hers...'

Kaiser wanted to get lost more in his thoughts, but was interrupted as Ness opened his eyes and looked back at Kaiser, never breaking the kiss.

'Back off.' He could hear the boy say as he hugged (Y/n) tighter. And, in that moment something snapped in Kaiser. He didn't know what it was, nor did he care. The only thought running in his head was that he needed (Y/n). He needed her to be his. And his only.

[oneknightstand-if]

A Completely Normal Rest Stop

Update 4: Chapter 2 Part 2 - The Rest Stop

Featuring...

Merlin's Guide to Minor Enemies

A bucketload of owed texts & e-mails to the MC

Decisions of great import... just where are you sleeping in that motorhome during this Among Us game?

Shopping? Fleeing? Stalking Merlin? Chapter 2 wedding proposals? ̵S̵a̴b̷o̴t̸a̷g̵e̵ ̵t̷h̴e̶ ̷m̸o̵t̵o̴r̷h̸o̷m̷e̶/̷ Actually having a completely normal time because you sidestepped all the spooky shenanigans? (But what fun would the latter be?)

A ton of branching everywhere in the second part of this update, so try replaying again with a few different choices.

A̴ ̴C̴o̶m̴p̷l̷e̵t̷e̴l̴y̵ ̶N̴o̷r̸m̴a̶l̵ ̵G̴a̴s̸ ̶S̵t̵a̷t̷i̶o̷n̸ ̵S̴t̸o̷p̷

Nothing to see here but a completely normal gas station & convenience store at a completely normal rest stop. Moving along now.

Play the Updated Beta Test

(Since there were bugs & typos reported throughout Chapter 1 & 2, your current saves are probably going to reset to the beginning of each section of the game. If things get too wonky, you might want to try restarting from the beginning.)

*If you're getting error messages or the start screen isn't showing Version 0.22, please clear your browser's cache.

Additional Word Count (Sans Code): 200,000+

Additional Word Count (With Code): 285,000+

New Total Word Count (Sans Code): 815,000+

New Total Word Count (With Code): 1,120,000+

Average Playthrough: ~65,000+ words

Note: You can view the game code on my site the same way you do on Dashingdon just add /scenes to the end of the URL.

Next Update

Merlin's Guide to Minor Neutrals

MC may appear on TV! This might not be a good thing. And they aren't the only one, cameo appearances from a future RO

Get hit with your first mass spell of nondemonic origin

Counteract with participation in your first multiuser spell

Attempt to summon Cthulhu. Dance the macarena. Have the consequences of your own inaction potentially bite you in the arse-- I mean what?

RO #4 finally appears.

Also quick reminder that the Alpha Build of the game on Patreon updates as I complete each section, so is currently on Chapter 2-3.

Link to New Polls on the Update (Which don't auto close in a week like the Tumblr ones)

More (Fiddly) Info on the Update Behind the Spoiler Cut...

The Update Also Includes...

Added section where the devil's mark is found if you change into short sleeve clothes right before packing up to leave

Added more neutral way of deciding not to claim dibs on a past Camelot incarnation

Added more flavor text regarding the vending machine in the fencing club route

Fixed continuity bug regarding your mask while exploring the empty city

Fixed continuity bug with Adrian's text messages in the Fencing Club route (Again!)

Added Fou and Petit Cru as default names for the Arthurian lore references to the default pet names

Fixed reference to nonexistent pet at the start of the book club route (which won't be finished for awhile)

Fixed some behind-the-scenes bugs with variable incrementing

Changed brave_sir_robin & merlin_warn to numerical variable instead of true/false (might cause bugs with prior saves that triggered those flags)

Fixed a bunch of typos and smaller bugs that I've completely lost track of at this point, but pretty much guarantee every section got re-edited

[chris-prank]

HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D

This is my first time sending something, so....

I would love to know what Vincent would think of a Superhero reader but with a grotesque appearance, with a costume or a rather bloody superpower. However, this reader is very nice to everyone, even those he's supposed to fight. It would be hilarious to see, because he could look like this: ⛓🗡🩸, but act like this: 💖😊🌈.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU TOOOO EVEN THOUGH I'M SUPER LATE!!

The contrast between niceness and scary appearance would make any villain think this hero reader is some sort of manipulative sadist. And that would include Dr. Seraph… at first. Like in his main story and in other answered ask, the mad scientist would fall for reader if he showed him any form of perceived kindness or attention.

CW: Implied broken arm, horror (for Vincent lol) and yandere behavior

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

The electricity had been cut right after Dr. Seraph heard loud screams coming from outside the control room. The emergency alarms were the only thing preventing him from being thrown into complete darkness and with no monitors left to help he was powerless. The new found silence that accompanied the shutdown was deafening, making him regret the din of explosions and blows being exchanged a few minutes ago. He clenched the disc that contained his plan for a new death laser Fatalité wanted him to build. The heroes had definitely broken into the lab to snatch it. 

As he paced around, a dragging sound came from the corridor. Vincent froze in place, his gaze newly fixated on the open slide door that left him at the mercy of whatever was outside. Suddenly, someone staggered forward into the room. It’s as if he had been summoned from the darkness itself. Despite his left arm being visibly twisted in an atypical position and dangling freely at his side, a wide smile played on the lips of the intruder. Almost too wide to be reassuring. Based on his appearance Dr. Seraph could guess who this was from word-of-mouth, and he had heard that this person could make any villain shake in their boots. 

Normally, he would have begged, stuttered, whimpered, anything if it meant not getting punched in the face or even worse. Yet in that moment he could only stare up at the man in front of him as he got closer, step by step. The hero finally, after what seemed like an eternity, stood face to face with the small mad scientist. 

“If you don’t mind I’ll just take that!” He sang in a cheerful voice while taking the disk from the mad scientist’s trembling hand, but noticing his deplorable state the intruder added, “you don’t look well, why don’t take a seat? ” He grabbed a chair nearby and eased Vincent into sitting down, after putting the valuable piece of tech in one of the many pockets of his suit. 

The out of character act, from Dr. Seraph's point of view, brought him back to his senses and he looked up at the superhero. Now that he has seen him from up close, his interlocutor had visibly gentle eyes and a smile that didn’t look so uncannily anymore. Even his lips seem oddly soft and… Vincent caught himself before he could let his mind wander further into unknown territories, but still, no hero has ever been this thoughtful and kind to him before. Not to mention that this hero in particular was known for being the most terrifying one… well according to the rumours. Maybe, just maybe Vincent was getting treated well… because he was special in this guy’s eyes?

While the shocked man was still lost in his contradictory feelings, the hero spoke again. 

“You know it’s not good for your body to stress yourself like that.” He patted Vincent’s head like he was a harmless citizen, “until we meet again, don’t forget to get some rest!” 

The power got back as soon as he finished his sentence and he miraculously disappeared just like the darkness that surrendered them both a moment before. 

Vincent sat there staring at the empty space where once stood the particular hero, the worries of having lost crucial pieces of information pushed at the far back of his mind. There was nothing wrong in postponing the initial plans his boss gave him and instead learning more about his Good Samaritan, right? It would all surely come in handy later, as much for him then Fatalité. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I made it vague so that you can imagine what kind of creepy power the hero reader has! 

Also Delulu Vincent is making a comeback! I should really start to emphasize again how good he is at convincing himself that the reader is in love with him. 

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Three.

Johnny didn't want someone who asked questions - to him, anyways. That didn't mean you wouldn't try to get your own answers

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Johnny (he insisted you call him that after you very reluctantly agreed to his deal, stating that "John" was too formal) didn’t need someone who asked questions. Asking questions meant thinking and thinking meant trouble. He didn’t need someone asking anything about the man framed in the only picture he had, nor did he need to be questioned on why there was an uncanny frakensteined monster that bore that very person's resemblance living in an abandoned military facility. 

Of course, you’d still think of those questions. Anyone with a single braincell and any scrap of common sense would. You’d think about them until your brain melted and oozed out your ears as they ceaselessly tore at your mind, lingering on the edges of every other thought you had.

Asking him at this point though wouldn't get you anywhere, aside from maybe in a hospital bed. Pushing the already probably mentally unstable man further when he clearly had a whole storm brewing behind those distant blue eyes was a flat out stupid idea. When someone carried such a beastly burden day in and out, adding even a feather to the weight they carried could cause them to snap. If you wanted answers, you’d have to play it smart and ride the sands of time until the tempest faded into a mild breeze, taking the pressure that ceaselessly weighed him down with it.

Besides, you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and do anything to cost you your newfound side job that rolled into your lap when you needed it most. You needed it and the money almost as much as Johnny needed you.

Aside from a wonderful therapist, what Johnny needed was someone to run some errands for him.  The way he phrased it could’ve made it seem almost normal. Almost. He just needed you to sometimes pick things up and drop things off for him - things he said he didn't have time to do.

Before you could even begin to regret agreeing or start gathering the courage to start verbalizing anything, another $100 was shoved in your awaiting hands the second he summoned you to his house once more not even two days later, effectively tying your tongue in a knot and forcing you to swallow anything that threatened to rise up back into the pit of your stomach where it belonged.

"You're certainly a wonderful sight for sore eyes" Johnny said as he held the door open for you, the lopsided grin that stretched slightly too far for comfort donning his face.

Underneath your fingertips, the crinkle of the crisp bill he'd shoved in your hands offered an ounce of comfort and familiarity as you stepped into the haphazard blend of the contrasting house. Once again, the overpowering stench of bleach reached your nose, causing it to wrinkle as your eyes watered. The soapy, pungent basic scent of unnaturally clean stood as far too much, like he had just scrubbed every single nearby surface with it twice.

Holding your breath just enough to make it through the hallway without burning your lungs, the shaky exhale that escaped you when you reached the kitchen was anything but certain, unlike the man who lead the way with a spring in his step.

"How 'bout a cuppa?" He offered as he gestured for you to sit in one of the uncomfortable, cheap, ugly modern chairs that lined the matching too sleek table.

Though the thought of something to drink was a nice gesture and tempted your slightly parched throat, it wasn't one you could accept. Drinking something from his house, even if he made it in front of you, had you on hesitate as uncertainty made itself known in the way your stomach twisted. Sure, it might give you something to sip on and take away from your nerves - but you didn't know what he'd consider normal or what he could put in it.

"Thanks, but no thank you. I'm good." You declined, your brows knitting together the smallest bit as your hands locked together, a closed-lipped smile donned your features as a polite peace offering.

Johnny simply tipped his head and shrugged in a 'suit yourself' gesture as he turned his back to you and took ahold of the kettle. "Maybe one day you'll come 'round to it. The Brits are wrong on many things but tea isn't one of them." He noted while he filled the blue metal device to the brim before setting it unceremoniously on the stove.

Humming in a truly neutral agreement that could be taken either way, you chose not to say anything in addition. A steady, rhythmic clicking broke through the silence before the gentle whoosh of the flames igniting quieted the air once more.

Johnny busied himself around the countertop and the island, whistling an off-tune song you couldn't quite recognize. While you weren't sure what song it was, there was no denying that his tone was off. Whether that was on purpose or not, you had no idea, but it made your skin crawl. A grimace crossed your features when the continual bad intonation didn't get any better. Why couldn't he have at least picked something to be on pitch with?

Thankfully the half-cringe that passed upon your face went unnoticed as he began searching through the orange toned cabinets and drawers at his own leisurely pace.

Naturally, your eyes were drawn to the man as he worked in his element. Your own natural curiosity tugged on the little part of your brain that egged you on to watch and try to figure out what he was doing. The weight of the world might have rested on his shoulders, judging by the slight tension he always held in his muscles and the lines carved deep into his face after many sleepless nights, but he didn't show it elsewhere.

He moved about as if the burden he carried were nothing more than a backpack, an annoyance that could eventually be shed. If you were able to look at his face closer, you're sure the shadows of dark bags would line underneath his eyes, darkening his features as if trying to externally express the gloom he felt.

To see that meant you'd have to look him in the eyes, though. You're not sure you were ready to meet the intensity of his head-on gaze again, or have to explain why you were staring. Blinking out of your stupor, you snapped your gaze to the tiled floor, trying to find something else to draw your attention.

The too stark, too barren kitchen loomed around you at all angles and provided no relief or point of interest. Looking anywhere else did little to help your nerves and thoughts alike when the clashing gaudiness of the wallpaper and the modern furniture greeted you no matter where you turned your eyes.

No matter what, you most certainly didn't want to look at the one picture on the wall - the one that reminded you of the thing you'd seen.

Though the man in the picture wasn't nearly as monstrous and had all the correct, human proportions (in the right number too, mind you), taking a single glance made your stomach churn. Sheer, primal dread and horror weren't an easy feeling to shake, especially when you caught glimpses of it every time you so much as turned your head to the side.

When he finally started talking again, a silent breath of relief escaped you as you relaxed marginally, thanking all heavens above he gave focus on other than the solitary portrait that hung on the empty wall.

"You don't know how... how happy I am."

Metallic clattering rang out as he shut yet another drawer before the one beside it was squeaked open from the rattling force. Though he spoke aloud, you weren't sure if he was more talking to himself or to you.

You didn't dare to breathe a word when he seemed to have paused for a moment, muttering something under his breath before he shut that drawer too and opened a cabinet below. "... to finally have someone to help me." He added as an afterthought as he popped back up, a small, rusted metal box in his hand.

Clunking against the counter as he gingerly placed it down, the rusty hinges squeaked in protest as he popped the lid, inspecting the mysterious contents with scrutinizing, unblinking eyes before he nodded to himself, clamping the lid shut once more before you had a chance to see what was in it.

"Things have been..." He trailed off with a small, dismissive circle of his hand as he turned his back to you again, upper cabinets flying open as he dug through the few items precariously perched in there once more.

He didn't continue his sentence, shaking his head to himself, the words he refused to speak evaporating into thin air. The grip you had on your own hands tightened as you bit your tongue - you weren't going to pry. No questions, you reminded yourself, as your mind filled in the blanks with many words that it raced to think of to finish his sentence for him.

Difficult? Terrible? Agonizing? Stressful? You're sure you could place them all on a Bingo card and score instantly.

No matter how much you wanted to ask, wanted to figure out what was going on, you weren't going to ask. You couldn't. The fragile balance that hung in the silence of the air depended on it.

Johnny seemed to like talking to himself anyhow, even if it was filled with beats and pauses and half finished sentences to match. It's like he either expected interjection or didn't know how to talk after having spent so much time alone.

"Ever since the exp- accident," He corrected himself in such a rush you didn't catch what he almost said, "Haven't been able to do nearly all of what I wanted."

Johnny didn't give you a chance to think about it as he huffed, his shoulders sagging, “Cannot drive anymore.” He spoke in a rougher grit, nodding to his missing left arm.

Frustration wrote itself all over his face in the unmistakable narrowing of his eyes and the tension held in his shoulders increasing tenfold as a scowl crossed his features. But like everything else with him, it hardly lasted a few noticeable seconds before the grin that was all too theatric made its appearance once more. “Unless you want to see the gas station version of Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift, I wouldn't let me get behind a wheel.” 

His warm, mirth filled chuckle and toothy smile could almost be mistaken as genuine if he weren't staring right through you with a certainty that made your hackles raise. "That's where you come in. Real life saver, you are." He noted as he finally found what he was searching for, depositing it in a drawstring bag alongside the metal container.

Just in time, the kettle whistled a shrill pitchy noise. Steam billowed out of the small opening. Like a dog drawn to the beck and call of its owner, he trotted right on over to it, pouring it into a metal thermos he already had set aside in his impromptu kitchen rearranging spree.

Screwing the top on, he settled it in the bag before drawing it tight. Fabric cinched underneath the motion and, testing it to be sure nothing would spill, he finally picked it up and promptly deposited it on your lap.

"Well, best be off with it then." He said as he clapped a hand on your shoulders, guiding you to your feet. You swallowed, already knowing where he was going to ask you to go. "If you're fast enough, the water will still be warm when you get back if you change your mind on having a proper cuppa."

Going there in the evening light proved to be significantly less unnerving than visiting in the pitch blackness of the night. Considering you at least could see a hair better and knew what to expect as far as the layout go, it eased your nerves but the constant unsettled feeling remained on your shoulders as an unseen weight all the same.

On one hand, you now knew what was lurking in the dark. On the other hand, you now knew what was lurking. With six arms, three heads, and enough eyes to see into the past, present, and future at the same time, jumping to meet it again wasn't on the top of your to-do list.

Unlike the first time, though, it was a quick in and out. That was the mantra you repeated to yourself as you exited your car, crawling back in the small opening in the rusted, chain link fence. In and out. You'd be done before you knew it.

The steady thump of your heart against your ribs echoed far louder than any noise in the run-down facility as you trekked through the halls with careful steps. Every so often, you'd freeze and listen, looking for any clues of the thing - the very thing you were here to deliver a bag to.

You don't know why exactly Johnny wanted you to do this so bad or what he included in the very item you carried close to your chest. If he was trying to feed you to the monster, he was doing a piss poor job at it. And if it were something elicit, then why on earth would it involve a thermos of hot water?

Those questions were shoved to the back of your mind as you heard a small clink down one of the halls - a noise that sounded like metal on metal.

Goosebumps prickled your arms as your body froze. Placing the bag down next to the wall on a drop spot you, for once, listened to your heart and bolted.

You didn't wait around to see if the thing was lurking around the corners, watching your every move. You didn't want to see if it felt friendly today. In and out. You're just here to do your job - not here to be eaten.

True to his word, the water was still warm by the time you returned to collect your payment. Not that you were going to have any of the tea he offered, but it meant the job was done and you now had enough money to soothe your erratically beating heart as you justified your (probable) bad decisions.

Johnny was all smiles as he thanked you earnestly, ignorant to your internal plight. His earnest words that paired with his glee of, "Have an evening as lovely as yourself," lingered on in the air, going unanswered as you took your money and hurried off back to your dwelling.

Not wanting to deal with any more questions or thoughts regarding it or anything around it for the night, the TV went on the moment you got home. White noise filled the space as its distant chatter reverberated, the familiar flashing lights of the flickering screen soothing you as it wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Scarfing down your dinner, you settled on the couch for the night, letting the noise of the television lull you to sleep instead of your own mind.

Sleep held you as long as it could in its embrace as you dozed away, but it could only do so much to keep you down when an all too loud text pinged on your phone. Cursing yourself for not having put it on Do Not Disturb, you blearily blinked at the illuminated screen.

Blocky letters shone 5:15 am on the lock screen, yet another groan escaping you. It's too early for this. Setting it down for another moment as you squinted, you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm as you slowly came to your senses.

Focusing on the name would be fruitless when you already mentally calculated who would have the audacity and the lack of common sense to text you this early.

"Morning bonnie :), up for another task?"

No wonder he seemed so exhausted all the time, you mentally groused as you reluctantly went through your morning routine at none too fast of a pace. Anyone who woke up at the ass crack of dawn had the right to be. There's plenty of other things weighing him down but right now, all you could think of was how it was too damn early for this.

Even though it was too early, far too early for your taste to be doing anything, Johnny was all smiles as you pulled up, as if he'd already been up for hours and was almost happy about it.

This time, he wasn't fumbling through anything or assembling things together. Sitting on the old, creaky rocking chair on the porch, he already had a bag beside him. The worn canvas rucksack was considerably larger than the drawstring he'd had you take the day prior.

"Good morning." He greeted from the small landing as you sauntered out of your car, the usually present smile that put the pink lights of dawn to shame held itself upon his fine features once more. "Know I already said morning, but wasn't good til I saw you."

The warm, blush colors of the sunrise matched your cheeks perfectly as the familiar heat of a flush rose upon you in a matching warmth of the early morning's rays. It's too early for this....

Handing the bag off to you, his eyes followed your every movement once more as you took it from him into your grasp. "Same place as last time." He instructed without another word more.

The thermos settled on the side of the bag radiated warmth as it settled against your skin as you balanced the luggage out in your arms. How you wished you could feel the same warmth all over as you lay buried in your bed, dozing underneath your fluffy blankets as you should've been at this time.

Nodding, you offered a strained smile, ignoring how his fingers drummed in rapid succession on the armrest of the chair. "Got it." Was all you said before you turned on your heels before you could second guess what you were doing.

The third time through the building proved to somehow be even easier. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or irritation that ebbed away the nerves that normally had you hesitating, but you carried on through the same path you'd trekked twice prior.

Exactly as Soap instructed, you went to set the bag down right where you had prior. Except when you got there, you froze.

There on the ground lay the same thermos you saw him fill and the deflated, compacted form of the drawstring bag. Folded with precision, the bag lay pinned by the thermos, as if it had been placed with delicate intent in mind.

Swallowing back the sudden dryness of your mouth, the small steps you took towards it now took longer than ever before. As if it may burn you, your hands shook as you held your breath when you reached out to grasp them. The light weight of the metal bottle shouldn't have caught you off guard, but it did. Whatever did this - no, whoever, clearly had great control of themselves.

It couldn't have been that thing, right? That was a monster, a beast. Maybe it was someone else - someone else here who he was helping.

You didn't want to think about it too hard or the implications of it. Taking a deep breath, you choked down your nerves and snatched up the bag and empty bottle before depositing the rucksack.

Looking back wasn't even a thought that crossed your mind as you hightailed it out of there, your mind racing faster than your feet.

By the time you returned to Johnny's house and rang the bell, he'd already taken a shower. The fresh scent of his cologne clung to his skin as he opened the door, the overgrown shag of his mohawk curled on the very fringes with dampness.

"Back so soon?" He asked, arching an inquisitive brow, his attention focused on the lines of your face the second you appeared.

Though you tried to hide the small tremors and the paleness of your features as your mind and heart raced despite the contrast of your feet rooted in place.

"Christ alive, everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." He asked as he tilted his head.

Alright? Alright?? How could it be alright when now for sure you knew that something, something possibly intelligent, was there. The thing you've brought something too held life, conscious thought, and yet weathered away every day in that building.

Seeing the bag folded so neatly opened a pandora's box of questions that you don't think you could ignore for any longer, but you weren't going to spill that to him.

Hurrying out a nod, you forced a smile and cleared your throat, trying to get yourself to appear normal. "Y-yeah! Fine, I'm fine. Just uh... a bit tired! Not used to being up this early." You said, trying your damndest to play it off with an awkward chuckle.

Pleasebelieveitpleasebelieveitplease-

His eyes studied you, a frown pursing his lips as he once again searched right though your soul with those intense, blue eyes. For those few, tense moments, you swore he dug right into your mind, trying to find reasons to call you a liar as he sunk his claws in and tore.

Yet his gaze softened as he scratched the back of his neck, the smile turning sheepish. "Sorry - forgot not everyone is used to waking up before the sun. Old habits die hard." As if trying to make up for his 'mistake', he didn't wait a second as he fished out the $200 from his pocket - no envelope this time.

The bills made their way into your pocket as you snatched them up. "Thanks." You rushed out as you took a step back. Johnny arched a single brow as he just kept staring, as if expecting something.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his acute gaze as he simply kept staring the same, scrutinizing look pinning you down from afar. Averting your eyes, your offered a half-there nod as you took another step back, "Anyways I uh, have a long day ahead."

Your mind wasn't really in putting together neat sentences as it kept circling back to seeing the bag and thermos set so nicely, so purposefully, as if awaiting someone to return to them.

Shit, right. The things. Shaking your head, you stiffened at your realization. "O-oh! Right, almost forgot." Pulling your own utilitarian bag off of your back, the sound of a zipper broke the hush of the early morning air. Revealing the still-folded bag and his bottle, you held it out for him to take.

Surprised wasn't the exact word you'd say described Johnny. Though his brows arched and his grin faltered for a split second into something much bigger, he held his position. The slight shake in his fingers as he plucked the items from your hands was palpable as was the breath he held as he turned them over, the pads of his fingers tracing them as his attention dragged downwards into the paltry weight of the objects themselves.

For a few reverent moments, his whole attention focused right on those items his gaze piercing through it. While you were thankful that attention was no longer on you, it didn't help the unease that always seemed to follow, remaining slung around your shoulders like an old, uncomfortable pal who made their appearance at the worst times. When you shifted from foot to foot, his eyes snapped right back up as he blinked out of his entranced daze.

"Right, I won't hold you any longer. Thank you again." He said, as he steadied himself with a deep breath, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't have a chance to protest before he closed the door, leaving you standing right there on the now empty front porch.

Turns out, Johnny preferably needed you to go every day of the week to that place. You weren't sure how to feel after discovering the fact that the thing was probably intelligent and was indeed capable of such delicate tasks - but the money talked far louder than your hesitancy. It's a wonder he didn't run out of cash but hey, you weren't complaining. Sure, it wasn't ideal to go there and to keep questioning your sanity, but money talked. And what it was saying was "Keep doing what you're doing".

Though unease lingered in every one of your hairs that stood on end and the goosebumps that prickled your flesh every time you visited, it became significantly easier as you fell into a routine. Nothing would stop the way you always found yourself glancing down the dark hallways with wary shifts to the balls of your feet, ready to bolt at a moments notice, but you no longer had to look over your shoulder or halt in your movements every time you heard a small noise.

Johnny would either have you come by early morning or late evening, and would hand off a bag. Sometimes you'd talk to him a bit or more accurately, he'd talk and you'd listen as he packed the bag. You'd then take it, go right back into the abandoned fort, and trade it out with the bag always placed with such neat intent and now-empty thermos.

Now, anyone sane would've suspected something extremely suspicious, if not illegal. After all, who would pay vast amounts of money to drop off a full bag and pick the empty up if it weren't dealing with illegal substances?

Johnny. That's who.

Much to your surprise, everything was normal in every bag you brought - it always was. He'd pack them in front of you or if they were ready to go, they held the same, ordinary objects. Not to mention, you'd always double checked them just to be sure you weren't playing an unwitting part in some smuggling operation. You didn't always make the best decisions but you weren't stupid. Yet they were never abnormal.

No matter what, there'd always be a thermos of hot water and a sealed, labelless letter. Otherwise, it was a mixed bag, quite literally. Sometimes he'd thrown in a fleece or woolen blanket, other times some personal hygiene items, or board games or decks of cards, or even photographs and books. It didn't take long for you to realize that they were care packages meant for what- no, whoever was in there.

You weren't dealing with an it or a what or a that or a thing, it was a who. Someone who he clearly cared about and someone who you sincerely suspected was the man in the portrait or had been at some point in time.

The more days that you found yourself delivering yet another package, the more curious you found yourself - and the less fearful. After all, this was clearly a being who clung to some part of their humanity - someone capable of considerate actions and thoughts alike.

Frankly, it he never went after you in the first place. You'd realized that as you spent yet another night pondering in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. By all means, he could have attacked and killed you. He could have done that the moment it saw you for the first time and taken you by surprise in the Tartarean void that he called his home amidst the decaying walls.

He could've chased after you and snapped your neck before you had a chance to run for it. Hell, he could easily ambush you as you dropped off the daily supplies. And he could probably do it all without flinching or missing a single beat, as if he were completing a task as simple as fetching the morning paper.

But he didn't. He never even came closer. You hadn't seen him since the first night. Instead, the only trace you ever saw that he was by was the neatly placed bags and the empty thermos, always properly set up.

No monster would do that. No true monster would have those manners or such a capability, unless it was playing the long haul to gain your trust before it feasted. But that would've been long, long ago.

You didn't know what to make of it. And you knew Johnny would be no help, as many thoughts as he had. Not once had he ever brought the beast up - nor did you. Talk around him was something you both danced around, never quite getting to it.

That didn't stop you from doing your job as kept on delivering all the same. You knew better than to ask who this being was to him beyond someone he'd very likely known - and known well. He wouldn't be ready to admit that. No matter how many times you caught him staring at the sole portrait that hung on the kitchen wall or smoothing his thumb over the silver cross that dangled around his neck, he never dare breathed a name.

Asking Johnny wouldn't help, so you figured you might as well bypass the middle man. Living in the dark was something you couldn't do anymore - and you're sure he (the temporarily nameless being that he was) would like to finally have some light shone on him for once. It was time to talk to the creature you'd tried to desperately avoid in the first place.

Finding him was out of the question. You most certainly weren't going to walk through the dingy, damp halls once more to throw yourself at him. You doubted he would want that either. Considering he hadn't been around, he likely valued some semblance of privacy.

He could read - you figured he could read. After all, Johnny had sent him many letters. If they remained unopened, you didn't know, but it didn't stop Johnny from writing them all the same. Before you could get ahead of yourself, though, you decided to try a simple trick.

Clinging to a whiteboard with one hand, bag in the other, you crawled through the dark halls you'd come to know like the back of your hand. You didn't need the headlamp anymore but it certainly helped when your eyes hadn't adjusted.

Setting the bag down in the usual drop-zone, you balanced the whiteboard on your thighs and uncapped an expo marker. The squeak of the black pen filled the air as you inhaled a slow breath, trying to calm the anxious, anticipatory beating of your heart.

"Hi! :) I'm -" You hesitated. Writing your name was a bad idea, especially when it was a place you weren't supposed to be. The last thing you needed was for anyone else to find it and track you down, as unlikely as that may be.

Settling on "A friend of your friend." You continued to write, " The one who has been bringing the bags. What's your name?"

Setting the board down and capping the marker once more, placing it just below, you took a step back. You didn't know for sure if he could write or read, but it was worth a shot and was better than nothing. The question wasn't revolutionary but if answered, you'd finally have an inkling of who you were dealing with and more importantly, a proper name to call him.

As you headed back to the exit once more, you glanced back for the first time. For some reason feeling a pang of disappointment you saw nothing lying in wait in the shadows and heard nothing to match. Shaking your head, you dismissed the ridiculous thought as you scampered off, taking the empty bag and thermos that had been left to hold up your usual part of the routine.

You'd never been particularly excited to go back, really just following through for the money (and maybe a scrap of pity for Johnny), but today your legs couldn't carry you fast enough through the halls as you came back. Pitter pattering in your chest, your heart hammered away on your ribs as the familiar burn of exertion tugged at your muscles but you refused to let it slow you down. If anything, it only fueled the burning desire to get there fast.

The moment the whiteboard entered your line of sight, you somehow picked up speed further before leaning into a sliding stop in front of it. A thump echoed as the bag fell from your hands, your breath catching as you stared at the sight that awaited you. Your eyes widened at the smudged ink and the one, half-shaky word scrawled underneath. A name.

Simon.

Rolling the name over and over in your mind until you surely wouldn't be able to ever forget it, you snapped a picture of the whiteboard so you'd have a piece of it forever. To finally know the name of the being you had delivered countless things to marked a huge step forwards. There were many, many things you wanted to ask but for now you knew one, very important thing.

His name was Simon.

You itched to write more, to ask him fifty million questions now that you knew he was human enough to answer, but you couldn't get ahead of yourself. Your hands trembled as you uncapped the marker, tracing each letter of his name with your finger as you erased it, the feel of the letters forever etching into your soul.

"Its nice to meet you Simon." You kept it simple to start as you pursed your lips, racking your brain for the proper route to go here.

How long had he been here? Did he know what day it was? Who was he to Johnny? Why was he here? How did he get like that? What does he eat? How does he eat? Why doesn't he -

No.

You weren't going to do that. No matter how much there was to learn, you couldn't force your thirst for knowledge onto him or overwhelm him with questions. Trust for those answers had to be earned, not given, if he was anything like most.

Considering that he likely hadn't had direct human contact and interaction in how long, being compassionate would do you well. Maybe you could earn his trust more by helping him out further and listening, even if you had yet to physically say a single word to one another.

"I'm sorry for running from you. I didn't expect anyone to be there." You continued, figuring an apology of any kind was overdue but a late one was better than none, "Is there anything I can get or bring for you to make you more comfortable?"

The apology wasn't the best or hell, even that great. Limited space on the small whiteboard, however, was quite a curse. And if he had any bit of humanity - the kind you had, he'd understand very well why you ran. Anyone would in your shoes. It wasn't anything personal but now knowing he had conscious thoughts, guilt gnawed at you.

Likely, you still would've run anyways, but when facing with the unknown and something as threatening appearing as him, it's better safe than sorry. He'd understand, right? You were just a human in the end. A human who had very human reactions in the face of danger.

Once more, you set the marker down and read over your words, double checking to make sure your spelling still held up and the words were big enough to discern. They weren't perfect, eloquent, or fantastic but they were a starting point and they were yours. That was good enough for now. Resisting the urge to linger in the hall, you capped the pen and made your way out of the building once more, following the same path you'd always taken, already yearning to turn back.

Thankfully, the night passed in the blink of an eye and lady luck decided to roll the ball in your court the next day as Johnny picked an early time. Your heart raced at the same rate as your body as you sprinted through the halls, all caution thrown to the wind that whipped over your head with the motions. Reminding yourself to at least set the bag down instead of throwing it, you glanced at the board, your eyes widening.

Scrawled in a much neater, larger handwriting that took up the board, your breath halted in your chest. The beating of your heart faded into a background hum as your blood ran cold, a pit growing and sinking in your stomach so fast its as if you swallowed lead.

There wasn't an item or thing requested. Underneath, just like the day before, there was a name. But it was a different one, one you had at the top of your contact lists.

Johnny.

જ⁀➴

His many clouded eyes had stared at the simple, innocent question written on the white board. They stared and stared, until even in his constantly unfeeling state, they ached with soreness around the edges.

Anything.

Such a word was the most dangerous thing you could've offered to a desperate man who had long since drowned in the rivers of despair. To you, it was probably nothing more than a simple considerate thought. To him, it was a lifeline being thrown out in a tsunami, offering a thin rope to pull him out of the impossibly huge wave that kept him down. Attempting to grab it and crawl out may be fruitless but without any options left, the slimmest chance of improbable survival was always better than none at all.

So he took the rope you threw him and clung until his nails dug in and all six of his hands were burned and his skin chaffed. He held it close, grappling it with every ounce of strength he had left, tying it in knots to cling on further to the chance that was being offered - to have the anything, the only thing, he needed more than the second chance at life he had been granted.

He knew deep down that it might be an impossible request to pull him out, to get him what he needed beyond anything else in this world, to fulfill the visceral yearning that scorched his soul and burnt him with red hot pokers every day in an otherwise numb existence.

But when he had nothing left, nothing at all aside from his miserable existence in this liminal purgatory, playing the only Hail Mary he clung onto now that he was given a chance was his own way of accepting the line which you threw him and pulling back as he desperately tried to grapple out.

After all, a dead man had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

His everything that now stood just on the horizon, so close he could almost see those beautiful blue eyes again and trace over the silver of a scar that split his brows once more.