#but if you were in Gavin's situation

[aurora-nerin]

To Gavin haters: how do y'all feel now that AI generated stuff is taking over the Internet? Still don't see why he hated Androids?

[doodlinge]

klavier’s perspective of klapollo is the song supermassive black hole by muse and apollo’s perspective of klapollo (especially first meeting him) is cooler than me by mike posner

thank u for coming to my ted talk!

[inbarfink]

Ace Attorney Lawyers Ranked By Their Abilities in Physical Combat

Winston Payne: I’m pretty sure the average Tumblr user could kill Winston Payne with their bare hands.

Sebastian DeBeste: Look, the only reason why this wimp ranks higher than Payne is because he is so sopping wet pathetic that there is a significant chance that his opponent will just start feeling bad about kicking his ass and punch themself in the face instead.

Klavier Gavin: While Klavier is a physically fit young man who is known to keep his cool in extreme situations, he is also a giant law-abiding nerd who has never thrown a punch at anything that isn’t an inanimate wall. It probably wouldn’t be that hard to shove this guy into a locker.

Miles Edgeworth: Look, Miles is an even bigger locker-worthy nerd than Klavier. Anytime anyone, friend or foe, suggests a violent solution he just gets freaked out and begs for them to follow procedures. And no AA Lawyer is more easily thrown off his rhythm and startled than he is. He might have some bulk under the magenta and frills (or at least some impressive leg muscles from climbing 12 flights of stairs every day for like seven years), but he has no idea or will to actually use them in a fight. However, he did try and stare down a man who was aiming a gun at his back that one time and managed to keep his cool throughout all of this.

So like, he’d probably talk a big game and try and intimidate his opponent into not engaging - but if that won’t work he will get his ass thoroughly whooped. And then he’d try to sue them, which is what his threats were about all along.

Apollo Justice: Actually a considerable step up in power-levels from the previous ones. Apollo might be smol, but he is Done With Your Shit and this gives him Strength. Not to mention that one time he successfully tanked an explosion. His famous Chords of Steel can also serve as a tactic to confuse or weaken his enemies.

Kristoph Gavin: Although he is primarily known for his schemes and poisoning, he did kill a man with a single blow to the forehead with a bottle, showing he does have some decent upper-body-strength to use in a fight. And being known as ‘the Coolest Defense in the West’ means he can keep his calm even during hectic combat. But he’s also very pretentious and his constant pontifications might just be the perfect opportunity for someone to smash his face in.

Blaise Debeste: Okay, look, is Blaise a scary tall man who successfully stabbed a woman to death with a candelabra and constantly carries around a deceptively-powerful lighter and has like, implied, motorcycle gang background? Yes. But also I think anyone who encounters Blaise Debeste face-to-face is overcome with such bloodlust rage that it might give them an edge in the battle against him.

Mia Fey: Mia ranks fairly high on the Battle Scale considering the one time she was faced with a violent altercation she just tried to escape and it… didn’t end well.

However, in the two times we get to play as her it’s also clear that she wants to Punch. All of the Things. While Apollo is fueled by being Done With Your Shit, Mia has righteous anger - so I think in a situation where she is actually prepared to do battle she would be able to throw a few decent punches. Also assuming we are talking about Mia while she was still alive, there’s also her Spirit Channeling powers to account for. While we’ve never seen them on screen, Maya told us they are “first rate” and I believe her. Maybe she could channel the spirit of a great warrior to try and get an edge in combat?

Manfred Von Karma: While he also has the same Bloodlust-Inducing-Factor as Blaise, and he does seem less physically fit even though they’re about the same age - I feel like his cane could do more serious damage than Blaise’s lighter. And he has that dangerous fucking Stun Gun on him to easily neutralize opponents. Plus, he did tank that one gunshot he got in the shoulder. Manfred’s opponents might have Rage on their side, but also you cannot underestimate the power of his sheer Spite.

Godot: On one hand, Godot has shown an ability to keep his cool in very dangerous situations. He can smash a coffee cup with his bare hands and barely react, showing that he’s decently strong and resilient to pain. And he is yet another proud (?) member of the exclusive “Lawyers With a Body Count Club”. And while stabbing a waifish, 155cm college student (and part time-poisoner) in the back isn’t exactly the most epic demonstration of battle prowess in the history of Anime Lawyers - he did it (and moved the body and doctored the crime scene and prosecuted in court) while tanking a knife slash in his face, showing his pain-resilience once again, as well as general tenacity that would also be useful in battle. Also, he can summon an infinite amount of hot coffee mugs at will, which must make for a decent improvised long-ranged attack.

On the other hand, his health is also heavily implied to be deteriorating and that he’s basically dying over the course of the final case… possibly due to all of that physical exhaustion. If a fight goes longer than just a single backstab, I feel like these health complications are gonna harm Godot’s performance.

Phoenix Wright: Okay, so this is actually the hardest one to place. I keep flip-flopping on where to put him, especially compared to Mia, and Apollo. Because unlike most other lawyers currently ranked below him, he is a disaster when it comes to being on the offensive; Phoenix Wright is a total wimp who has never returned a punch in his life. However, he is also almost supernaturally durable, unbelievably lucky and deceptively strong. If a solid iron door, a raging freezing river and a speeding car didn’t manage to take him down, what chance does a fellow human, even a more combat-capable one, have???

Calisto Yew: She’s not even a real-lawyer! She’s a Secret Spy who successfully pretended to be a Lawyer for years! She’s got a gun, she’s got a knife, she's got crossbow bolt as hair decorations, she probably has some combat training from her time in Interpol… While she’s clearly more specialized for espionage and infiltration, and not as physically strong as Lang, she’s still got an impressive advantage over most of the regular people who went to Law School. In fact, her skill with barefaced lies and manipulation might also be a skill she could use in a fight to catch her opponent off-guard.

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: Nahyuta is, in fact, one of the few AA Lawyers to canonically participate in what I would unambiguously call a ‘fight’ (rather than a ‘murder’), when he single-handedly disarmed and apprehended a Defiant Dragon rebel in the sorta-canon ‘Spirit of Justice’ Prologue video.

Like, that rebel guy probably isn't the world's greatest warrior, but the Defiant Dragons have been around for enough time to give their members at least some basic self-defense/combat skills… more so than the average lawyer on this list at minimum. And Nahyuta very easily crab-stomped him. Showing that he has strong nerves, some amazing reflexes and the martial art skills to knock a man unconscious with a single blow. Not to mention the seemingly supernatural skills with his prayer beads, which he already uses as a sort of ‘weapon’ in court. Also that... thing he did to Apollo's bracelet that one time.

Nahyuta might be just straight-up Magic, that's pretty OP.

Franziska von Karma: Look, Franziska might not have official martial-arts, guns, or Literal Magic Powers - but what she does have is sheer determination and force or personality. Franziska von Karma has been intimidating grown men since she was a 149 cm tall 13 years old with a riding crop (I mean, one of those men was Miles, but still…..). She had once whipped Phoenix Wright into unconsciousness in a temper tantrum, and like I already mentioned that taking him down is quite a feat. She is also very resilient - while the shot to her shoulders was designed not to kill her, being up back on her feet doing investigation stuff a day after is still very impressive! Her whip might not be as dangerous as a sword or a gun, but she will not relent until she defeats you.

Simon Blackquill: Let me just give it to you straight, Simon Blackquill is 1.88 meter tall, he owns a katana and a trained attack-hawk (giving him both short range and far range advantage), he can break solid metal chains with his bare hands, he can cut your hair halfway across the room with a feather. Not to mention how he could probably use the whole psychological manipulation in battle to intimidate or goad his enemy. There’s not even a lot of funny or interesting points to bring up, he is literally an action movie character who just happens to also be a lawyer.

Athena Cykes: Athena Cykes is the strongest lawyer. One day, she’ll be stronger than whales. I believe in her.

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Running Late

You had never really been in shape, it was only natural that you avoided certain places around here, then. Places like the gym and most notably... the park. It was especially bad in late fall, that was when your local college started up track. So... what did you do? Same thing you always did, avoid it to the best of your ability.

Unfortunately for you, your abilities weren't quite good enough to stop fate from intervening. As usual you began your morning commute. It was simple and you liked the nice cool morning air, especially in the fall. Unfortunately... there was construction. You didn't know about it and now you would be late. This was going to be awful...

Your job wasn't amazing but it paid well enough. One other thing... you had been late quite a bit before... you were on one of your last strikes. So what would you do now? You called your boss, telling them you would be late due to construction... just hoping they would understand. Of course, they did not. They told you to go right to their office when you came in. Nothing good about that. So frustrated, you began walking absentmindedly to your better route... You hadn't thought this through.

When getting to the park you realized it too late, especially with the help of some dumb guy walking up to you. Right at the entrance. He wore a pair of athletic shorts that showed off his physique. He looked a bit upset but hard to tell through his shades. "What? Are you one of the people trying out for track? You're late." He looked you up and down. You looked angry, he looked annoyed... nothing good would come out of this.

You sighed and looked at him, "Look, I'm late for-"

He nodded. "Alright alright, I can tell you're late. What's your name? Gavin? Okay, Gavin we're running through the park and nature trail. If you can make it through that in... thirty minutes or less you're on the team."

"What? No you didn-" Again you didn't get to finish before he blew the whistle in your face. Instinctively and oddly you began running. Maybe it was to get out of the situation or maybe something else... Either way you ran. It was tough, you were huffing and puffing as your arms swayed side to side. Your chest was heaving with every labored movement. Your shoes were definitely not cut out for this.

As you kept going you started cussing, it helped you through the pain. Just a bit further and you could get out of the park... You kept running and running. Cussing out your boss, cussing out your co-workers, cussing out your job. "Fuck this" and "Fuck that" everywhere. With every step, every stride your mouth felt sore, your lips felt numb, your chest burnt. You felt like you were dying... but it also felt relieving. Your chest started to pump out, any fat or saggy man tits getting firm if not a bit jiggly. You were burning fat. Fat turned to muscle. Your chin? Yeah it felt like it was burning but really it was reshaping. You needed better air flow as you ran. Your lips were much softer, your chin was much more manly.

You ran your hands through your hair, unaware of the changes going on in your body. You grew hair on your chest, not much but notable. Your hair, nicely styled for your shitty office job, blew in the wind, shaping to a more... simple and trendy style. Helped and had a little bounce. Your head reshaped a bit too... What was going on?

As you neared the turn to get out you just tossed your jacket off and kept running, right passed it! You tried to stop but your legs wouldn't It was like they needed to run... They were growing more muscular. You were getting more muscular. It was easier to breathe and run now. The movements you were making were better, more fitting of a runner who did this often. But your clothes were so restricting... You took off your shitty shirt and belt... but that still wasn't enough. You went down to your underwear... odd... it was now compression boxer briefs.

Your bulge bounced with every step, it grew in size and smell. You were starting to stink quite a bit... Must be the sweat. The scent was intoxicating. You were having trouble thinking of your job. What was it again? Fuck who cared running felt so good. You had passed like three guys so far! Shows them! And you were late!

Getting past a few more you heard some bros... or... guys? No bros felt way better on the brainage. Well either way they were laughing. By now you had caught up to them. "What's so funny?" Odd... you could hold conversation while laughing. One explained that you were doing better than expected. The other made fun of you for being new. He did mention you were doing well with hazing. Hazing? But you weren't even on the team. But before you knew it one sprinted off.

"Oh fuck no you don't!" You laughed and started to sprint after him. Your body was changing and mind solidifying.... and just as you got to the finish marker. You weren't yourself anymore but who cares. You beat that guy. He even shook your hand.

"Name's Hunter, what's yours rookie?"

He laughed as the coach came up to you. "God damn, Gavin. For someone so late I didn't think you had the grit." He patted your back and handed you a shirt. It was yours yeah? Yeah it had to be.

"Gavin, huh? Yeah I think you'll fit in well on varsity." Hunter smiled and started to walk off. "Think you can take the cooldown?" He smirked, smug of course.

You paused to try and think for a second before laughing and blurting out; "Cool down? I'm hardly done yet, dude!" With that Hunter nodded and you two ran again... Racing... Hunter had found a rival, you found purpose, not if only you could find where you left your pants...

Enjoy your new life, meathead.

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

Power Play

It was never meant to have happened, but in all fairness I'm glad it did. I do have an unspoken duty of care after all.

I'm Gavin, 22, studying at Uni for theatre. Friends have always said I've got an uncanny talent for acting, able to hide how I'm feeling, telling the most convincing lies, but despite that I do have an earnest care for my friends and for some that's a big deal.

So, it all happened one Friday night, some of the girl friends were hosting a house party. Alcohol, music, conversation, the usual. My friend Janice had asked if I was free earlier and invited me. I hadn't seen her all week so the chance to catch up is always welcome. I put on my best clothes and headed off to the house which thankfully wasn't too far from my own place. I brought along some Amaretto for the party and got to mingling with others. I arrived quite early so there weren't too many people around and I got the chance to meet the partygoers and meet up with Janice.

'Hey Gav, glad you could make it! Got some pretty big news!' whispered Janice excitedly in my ear.

'Really? What is it?' I asked eagerly. She waved her left hand in front of my face, a gold ring on her finger. My jaw dropped.

'Tina proposed to me, we're getting married in the New Year!' she cried. I smiled and hugged her. Tina was a friend of ours and had confided to me in secrecy that she had a crush on Janice, and over the space of a year it looks like they'd both hit it off really well.

'Congrats, that's awesome!' I cried. 'Is Teen here tonight?'.

'Yeah she's just over in the other room, I'll go get her' said Janice, and she made her way through to the kitchen. I sat down on the sofa and waited a while. More and more partygoers arrived and as the night went on I forgot about Janice and Tina.

Getting progressively tipsy and humming along to 'Tainted Love', someone slumped down on the sofa next to me.

'Fuck them lesbians' sighed a voice. I opened my eyes and looked to my right, there sat a guy that looked about 30 with a bottle of Budweiser in his hand, shaking his head.

'What's up?' I asked, looking to him in concern. The guy looked to me and shrugged.

'Same fucking story everywhere I go, I see a cute girl, magically they're gay. Swear every fucker's gay these days' he said, taking a sip of his drink. I didn't say anything, took a sip of my drink and looked across the room. I could see past the crowd by the doorway was Janice. She was consoling Tina, who was crying. We caught eachother's eyes and I tilted my head subtly to the guy next to me, she nodded and kissed Tina on the head. I understood the situation.

'So how about you my man? You smashing some puss tonight?' the guy asked, looking me up and down. I turned to him and smiled.

'Nah mate, I'm more for the buss!' I replied, winking. The guy almost spat his drink out.

'Fuck off mate, you ain't gay!' he said laughing. I sighed.

'Oh sorry, were you expecting something more like this?' I asked, dangling my wrist and swiping the air camply. He laughed again, looking at me in disbelief.

'For a moment there I could've sworn you were straight' he said.

'Well you know, not all of us act camp, I like what I like but keep it on the down low' I replied, to which he nodded. I felt like I needed to move this along.

'Say, do you work out?' I asked, looking to his arms. He looked and flexed his right arm.

'Ah, you like what you see?' he asked smugly, grinning. I nodded and took another sip of my drink. He chuckled softly.

'You know, I've never tried a guy before' he said quietly, leaning in a little closer.

'Might be your lucky night' I suggested. He started nodding and bit his lower lip, taking a good look at me. I could have cackled at how easy it was to get him invested.

'What do you say we go find somewhere quiet to… break some new ground?' he asked, chuckling. I could have suplexed myself from the eye roll I wanted to do, but I had to keep my composure and giggled.

'Well, my place is just down the road, should give us a chance to get to know eachother better' I smiled. He drank the last of his drink and stood up. I happened to catch sight of his bulge as he offered a hand to lift me up, predictable. I tenderly placed my hand in his and he hoisted me up onto my feet, grinning.

'Let's get going then!' he said, heading off out of the house. I followed behind him, giving Janice a quick thumbs up and a wink as she nodded understandingly, mouthing the words 'Thank you'.

We returned to my place, him squeezing my ass and getting excited all the while. I unlocked the front door and invited him in. As soon as I was done locking the door, he made his move, pinning me to the door and burying his nose in my shoulder blade, taking a deep sniff.

'Mmm, you smell good!' he said. I rolled my eyes.

'It's Playboy' I said passively. He pulled his nose out.

'That's what I'll call you! Playboy!' he said, smiling maniacally.

'Sure thing, umm' I said, looking to him for a name.

'Just call me Daddy you cocksucking bitch!' he growled, pinning me further into the door and kissing my neck. Daddy, how fucking predictable. I could just see how this was going to go down. He pulled away and exhaled, stroking my chest.

'I'll bet you're a right little slut aren't you, Playboy?' he asked, fiddling with my shirt buttons, slowly revealing my chest.

'Oh for sure!' I grinned, moving in to kiss him. He hesitated but proceeded to kiss me back. I moved my hands behind his shoulders, embracing him. I could feel his dick pressing against my leg, he was totally enjoying it.

'Fuck me!' he said, dazed.

'Don't you mean fuck ME, Daddy?' I asked. He started laughing and moved his hands down to my thighs.

'Didn't think I'd ever be doing this with a guy, it feels so good' he said, looking into my eyes, amazed.

'Well, let's enjoy this then' I said, taking him by the hands and guiding him to my bedroom.

We got into the room and he thrust me down on the bed, biting his lip.

'Alright, strip down Playboy, nice and slow' he said, stroking his own crotch. I sat smirking as I kicked off my shoes and undid the last buttons on my shirt, taking it off and throwing it away. I went to unbuckle my belt when he stopped me.

'Come over here, I wanna try something' he said. Walking over he turned me around and began to unbuckle my belt whilst his cock was grinding against my butt. Always so cute when first timers try to be all freaky.

'You like that?' he asked, resting his chin on my left shoulder, watching as he pulled my shorts down.

'Yes Daddy' I said breathily, trying not to laugh. He dropped my shorts and began rubbing my butt through my boxers with his hands.

'Oh that ass feels so good Playboy, can't wait to explore it!' he whispered.

'I sure hope Daddy's packing tonight' I replied. With that he turned me back to face him, pulled me into a passionate kiss and carried me over to the bed, laying me down on it. Getting on top of me, he looked down as I looked back up at him. I began to pull at his shirt and he took it off, revealing his muscular chest, I'll admit it wasn't half bad. Then I began to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down, which he kicked off and there we were on the bed in our boxers.

'Open Daddy's pants!' he ordered, and I nodded, slipping them down his thighs. His dick sprung free, big and girthy, just how I like them.

'Ooooh, Daddy's got a big one!' I remarked in surprise, looking at it. He placed a hand under my chin, lifting it up to face him.

'Suck it, Playboy' he said, and so I began to do so, placing it in my mouth and beginning the blowjob. As it went on, his face became more strained as he tried not to shoot his load.

'Shit, you're good!' he moaned, looking to the ceiling. Eventually he stopped me and turned me over, pulling my boxers down.

'Alright Playboy, going in!' he chuckled. I could have cackled there and then, but I had to withold on the irony of that line. He began to spread my ass cheeks and inserted the tip of his dick, which slipped in easily. Even he was shocked.

'Damn, I thought you'd be tighter!' he said.

'C'mon Daddy, I'm a whore remember? Don't ruin this for yourself' I replied, massaging his leg. He nodded and continued to ride my backside, shaking the bed doing so. I'll admit this guy fucked with feeling, and as it went on and he reached climax, he wasn't aware of what else was going on.

When he finally came, sweaty and panting, he whooped in amazement.

'Wow Playboy, that was amazing!' he laughed, pulling himself away, but he soon realised he couldn't remove his dick from my ass.

'What's the matter Daddy? Too balls deep in me to let go?' I asked, turning my head to look at him. To his horror, his hands were beginning to sink slowly into my back, his pelvic region already sunk furthest into mine, and our feet had merged.

'Yo, what the fuck's going on?!' he shouted, but he couldn't pull himself free, he continued to sink into me as I began to cackle.

'You just fucked your way into a whole lot of trouble my guy!' I replied, laughing as he struggled.

'Let me go you fucking freak!' he roared as our legs were fully joined and his arms had sunk in.

'You upset my friends tonight, 'Daddy'. The lesbians you were moaning about, they just got engaged and you just had to come along and ruin their day' I said coldly as his back and shoulders sank in, him yelling out for help.

'And for the record, the name's Gavin. Suits me well considering how many homophobic, misogynistic pricks like you I've been gathering up to stop my friends being harrassed' I explained. By now the guy's face had melted into the back of my head and his screams became more and more muffled. Eventually he was fully sunk inside me, his added mass stretching me out and I began jerking my own dick, getting off my bed and spunking a few heavy loads on the carpet, excising myself of him. I looked at the pool of cum as it began to dry into the carpet.

'That's all you ever were, just a stain on society's carpet. Thanks for the muscles though' I said, cracking my neck and massaging my new musculature, reaching for my clothes. Though I thought to slip on the guy's jeans, they fitted me pretty nicely.

Making my way back over to Janice's place, most of the partygoers were filling out of the house. I went back in and found Tina and Janice, their faces lit up.

'Gav! Did you take care of that bastard?' asked Janice hopefully.

'Hey, I'm wearing his jeans aren't I?' I asked, turning to show them off 'Plus he filled me out a bit'. Janice shook her head, but smiled.

'I don't know how you do it, but thank you' said Tina, bowing her head. I pulled them both into a hug.

'Forget about him, he won't be bothering anyone anymore. Nobody messes with my friends' I said, looking to them in admiration.

'You're definitely gonna be the Best Man at the wedding, you know that right?' asked Janice. I folded my arms and rolled my eyes.

'And here I was hoping to be Chief Bridesmaid, oh well!' I sighed, shrugging. Janice and Tina began chuckling as I turned my attention to cleaning up the empty bottles and beer cans that the guests had left.

[ot3]

Just curious, what’s your opinions on Kristoph and Phoenix? I see you reblog ship posts about them sometimes and I’m really curious about your opinions on their dynamic both inside and outside of ship stuff, because I didn’t really know how to interpret Kristoph in particular. I think he’s one of the worse villains in AA tbh, it’s been a while so I may be misremembering, but I just didn’t… get that much substance from him?

kristoph is certainly a really hard character for me to fully develop an opinion on in isolation. i think the only area where i'm capable of saying anything about him i can back up with significant references to the text is in regard to his relationship with phoenix, because that's where the meat of his character interactions are. and more broadly because as a #phoenixhead my primary means of looking at the entire franchise is how things relate to phoenix. if you'd like to read about my interpretation of phoenix and kristoph's relationship more specifically i've got a post on that subject here. i think it's a character dynamic that has a TON going for it relative to the screentime if you're able to disregard fanon and look directly at what's in the text.

but more on kristoph individually

kristoph suffers from the same thing that all of aa4's major characters and plotlines do: not getting another game. there was clearly more to the gavin brothers' story we didn't get and will never get, and knowing that there's Something there we have absolutely no means of predicting or unraveling makes it hard to theorize. he kind of exists in a quantum state for me where i can see a ton of alternate perspectives on his character's complexities and just buy whichever one i'm feeling at a given moment. i personally wouldn't say he lacks substance because every interaction he has with any other character is, imo, very compelling and gives me a lot to chew on. but he's a character that's all questions and no real conclusions for sure.

i don't think he's a cackling machiavellian serial abuser. i think hes easily the kind of person who has the capacity to be emotionally abusive and manipulative to the people closest to him without being Pure Evil. because we have so little on him it's very easy to portray kristoph as the kind of sinister that provides whatever OP's favorite flavor of angst is. and i'm certainly no exception to that; i just happen to be a person who is into maybe some subtler flavors.

he's both one of ace attorney's most calculated villains, with poisoning vera's nailpolish being an incredibly cold maneuver that suggests a lot of foresight, and one of ace attorney's most brutal murderers, capable of getting aggressive enough in a moment to bludgeon a man to death with a bottle. i think kristoph can be understood as a character whose primary motivation is control, both over himself and others. there's that critical line in turnabout succession where he tells klavier he's out of control, and klavier says "whos control? mine, or yours?" his reputation is built on his ability to stay calm under pressure, and his ability to stay calm under pressure is built on his tendencies to preemptively engineer situations in his favor. the stuff with phoenix and the gramarye case represents what we can presume to be the biggest failure of his career.

i think this puts him very much in line with AA1's main villains. people like to compare him to dahlia a lot for obvious reasons and there's some fun to be had there but i think it lets people overlook how well he ties into AA1. redd white controlled the press and controlled the judges to get away with his blackmail ring. von karma controlled the witnesses to engineer his perfect cases. damon gant controlled the police and the evidence, and then controlled lana to control the prosecution. although those were all one-case villains i think kristoph justifies his larger scope in aa4 by the significant and longstanding personal connections he has to the rest of the main cast. kristoph represents the mirror image of those AA1 villains; aa1 shows the way the deck is stacked against the defense. kristoph shows what it looks like when someone tries to stack it in the other direction

i think kristoph plays an important part in the larger franchise by showing what corruption looks like from the defense's bench, and how this corruption takes a different cadence when it lacks the systemic power that the villains like gant had. i think his cold, calculated approach to defense works well as a foil to the type of defending we saw from phoenix who is all heart and charges in head first. i think apollo works well representing a sort of compromise between the two, being a little bit shrewder than phoenix but no less earnest. i think klavier, then, as a prosecutor who is much less aggressive than the previous 3 both personally and professional serves to further invert the expectations set by the trilogy in a way that's really satisfying.

is kristoph missing some pretty critical backstory that i would love to see? yeah. absolutely. but i think when you look at him as a story device rather than an underdeveloped character he adds a tonnnnn to the series. that said, i will die wondering.

[gogogodzilla]

day 21, spitroasting

gavin reed x reader x connor (rk800) warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, face fucking, rough! Connor, role play, blowjob, dirty talk, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, the psych major in me is showing kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You knew that after the android revolution, your work at the Detroit Police Department would increase tenfold. You knew that you’d have to spend more late nights at the precinct. What you didn’t expect was the toll it took on your sex life. You’d barely seen Connor, let alone touched him. 

Connor always offered to stay late with you and help wherever he could; he didn’t need sleep after all. This time, however, it was you who offered to stay with him. Connor sat at his desk, eyebrows furrowed as he went over his case files for the umpteenth time. You reclined in your chair, stretching out your achy muscles. The bullpen was empty except for the two of you, everyone else had the sense to leave while they still could. 

“Why don’t we talk it out?” you suggested as you stood from your desk and wandered over to his. 

He looked up at you as you sat on the edge of his desk, and you shrugged. “It might be helpful to act out your investigation rather than just having all the details rattling around in your head,” you suggested.

“How could we act it out?” Connor questioned, still a bit uncertain. You pursed your lips, thinking for a moment. 

“I can pretend I’m the suspect, and you can interrogate me. Maybe hearing what we know from someone else will help you find the missing piece?” 

He nodded, before standing. His expression was soft as his gaze met yours. It’d been forever since it’d been just the two of you. 

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Let’s get to work.”

Connor handed you a data pad with all his case files which you scanned as you walked to the interrogation room. This case had multiple victims, all male androids and all models previously used at the Eden Club. The victims were in various states of mutilation. They also weren’t killed in the spots where they were found, though, and there was little physical evidence. You furrowed your brows. All of the victims had a red lipstick mark on their cheeks. 

The chair in the interrogation room scraped against the floor as you pulled it out. Connor allowed you a few moments to look over case files before you began. 

“Maybe you should cuff me,” you suggested before quickly adding, “Y’know, since I’m a deranged killer going after androids.” 

Something flashed behind Connor’s eyes before he stood and rounded the table. Instead of the cuffs attached to the table, Connor removed his own off of his belt. 

“Hands behind your back, Doctor,” he said against the shell of your ear as he leaned over you. Your breathing quickened and excitement flowed throughout your body. 

You obediently clasped your hands behind your back and felt the cool metal of the handcuffs wrap around your wrist. The room was silent except for the clinking of the handcuffs.  

Connor returned to his place across from you, opting to stand. He paused for a moment and then he turned his gaze to you. 

It was as if the man you knew and loved disappeared and was replaced with the cold-blooded deviant hunter he was known as. He stared intensely, and you shuddered under his watchful eye. 

“You understand the gravity of this situation, don’t you?” he asked, his voice calm. 

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your response measured. The suspect was obviously smart and had all the makings of an organized killer. They wouldn’t break with one severe look. 

“Good, let’s begin. Does this look familiar?” he questioned, sliding his data pad toward you with a picture of the most recent victim. 

Your eyes flicked to look at for a moment before returning to his brown ones. “No. Doesn’t ring a bell, detective,” you sneered. 

 “Really? Because you were seen by multiple witnesses visiting the scene of the crime,” he countered, raising a brow. 

It would make sense that the suspect would return to the scene of the crime or get involved in the police work. Although, androids were different than humans. Did they have that innate desire to see the carnage they’ve wrought? 

“I live in the area,” you shrugged. You knew it was unlikely that this killer would make the mistake of striking too close to home, but the way Connor was looking at you had you scrambling for excuses. 

He hummed before turning off his data pad and setting it aside. “Can you explain your whereabouts during the time of the incident, then?” 

You met his gaze, steeling yourself. This suspect would be smart enough to keep their cool under pressure. You had to be too. 

You leaned forward onto the table, allowing Connor a perfect view down your blouse. “Tell me, detective, what do you plan on doing if I don’t cooperate?” you asked, a grin spreading across your features. 

“I’m programmed to adapt to various situations and interrogation techniques. I could make you talk,” he answered, leaning in closer. 

“Aiming to find my weak spots, detective?” 

“I don’t have to search for those,” he responded, the corners of his mouth turning up. 

“Let me out of these cuffs and we could make this interrogation much more interesting,” you lowered your voice to a sultry whisper, meeting his gaze. 

He straightened, the smirk he donned earlier long gone, “Unfortunately, I believe I may be just your type.” 

“So, you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” 

Connor nodded, before rounding the table once again.  He hooked his hands under your armpits and pulled you into a standing position. He kicked your chair away from you.

 “I’m still waiting for a confession,” he whispered against the shell of your ear before bending you over the interrogation table. 

It was slightly embarrassing how much this turned you on. You were completely at his mercy. He was steady, as always, behind you, and you could feel his hardening length pressed against you. 

“You’re giving me exactly what I want,” you remarked, glancing at him over your shoulder. 

His hands had begun to wander; one moved upward and began undoing the buttons of your blouse while the other popped the closure on your pants. 

“I’m told I’m very persuasive,” he purred as he unzipped your pants and dipped a hand into them. His fingertips brushed against your clothed core, and you let out a soft gasp. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck as he teased you through your underwear. Your quiet moans were quickly turning into desperate pleas, begging for him to just fucking touch you. 

His free hand kneaded your breast, running over the lacey front of your bra. When that wasn’t enough for him, he pulled your bra down, exposing your front. Your nipples hardened against the frigid air of the interrogation room, and he rolled one between his two fingers. 

“Please, Connor, I promise I’ll be good and give you whatever you want,” you whined, pushing your hips against his. 

 He tsked before removing his hold on you. “Since you asked so nicely,” he praised before hooking his fingers into the sides and yanking your pants, and underwear, down to your ankles. 

He slid a finger through your now-dripping folds, and you bit back a moan. Your slick quickly coated his fingers and he dipped a finger into your entrance before sliding back up to circle your clit. You didn’t doubt there’d be a wet spot on his jeans from you canting your hips against his. 

A groan escaped both of you as he slipped a finger inside you that was quickly joined by another one. He pumped them slowly, and small whimpers left you. You were close to falling apart on his fingers with the way he was winding you up. 

The clinking of his belt buckle was music to your ears and you involuntarily clenched around him. You turned your head and watched in the two-way mirror as Connor stroked his cock with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

You let out a high-pitched moan as he pushed inside you inch by inch. You’d never get over the way he stretched you so perfectly every time. Eventually, he bottomed out, and within moments you were moving your hips, begging him to move. 

Mercifully, he obliged you and snapped his hips against yours.  He rested his hand between your shoulder blades, keeping you pressed against the table, as he rutted into you. Your wrists dug against the handcuffs and you wriggled against his thrusts. Goosebumps covered your skin as your breasts pressed against the cool metal of the table. 

He bent so his chest was pressed against your back and whispered against your ear, “Why don’t you show Detective Reed how well you take my cock?” 

Your gaze lurched to the two-way mirror as Connor began pounding into you, and your cheeks burned under Gavin’s invisible gaze. The wet sounds of your heat combined with the moans that pushed passed your lips filled the room. What the hell was he doing here? You were a bit too preoccupied to care.

“You like that he’s watching?” Connor hummed, smirking. “Do you want him to join us?” 

You nodded fervently, as you involuntarily clenched around Connor. The mental image of Gavin joining you driving you wild. 

“Please, Gav,” you begged as Connor slowed his brutal pace, nearly bringing tears to your eyes. “Need you, please, please, please.” 

You jumped as the door to the interrogation room slid open. Connor leaned forward and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at Gavin as he entered. 

Gavin palmed himself through his jeans as he neared, cheeks flushed and eyes alight. He cupped your cheek with his free hand and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Missed this mouth, sweetheart,” he murmured as he undid his jeans and released his length, allowing it to bob freely in front of your face. Your mouth watered as you watched him stroke himself. Connor straightened and gripped your ass as his strokes deepened, making your back arch. 

You stuck your tongue out over your bottom lip and looked up at Gavin, inviting him in. He slapped his cock against your tongue, teasing you. The whine that left you was borderline pathetic, and Connor’s grip on you tightened. 

Gavin was quick to indulge you and slide his cock passed your lips. You ran your tongue over the tip, moaning at the taste of him. Connor pulled out of you except for the tip before ramming into you. The force of his thrust sent Gavin’s cock deeper into your mouth, and you gagged slightly as a few tears formed.

“Jesus, tincan. Take it easy,” Gavin hissed, swiping a thumb across your cheek as you recovered, bobbing your head slowly. 

Gavin ran a hand through your hair, tugging it slightly as he pulled you closer. Connor’s pace increased as he rocked into you, hitting that spongey spot inside you that had you moaning around Gavin’s cock. 

You relaxed your jaw and hollowed your cheeks, allowing Gavin to use your mouth as he pleased. He groaned as he matched his thrusts to Connor’s, one pulling out while the other was pushing inside you. 

“Feel so good, sweetheart. Almost like this pretty mouth was made for me,” Gavin praised, his thrusts becoming sloppier. 

Connor reached a hand around you to rub tight circles around your clit. You let out a breathy moan and pushed your hips back his, forcing him impossibly deeper inside you. 

It took almost no time for you to come around Connor’s cock. You squeezed around him as your orgasm washed over you. Gavin grunted as your moans sent vibrations down his length. Both men continued to rut inside you, riding out your high. 

Gavin is the one to reach his peak first as his grip on your hair tightened, and he stilled as he came down your throat. You greedily slurped up everything he gave you, but still, some dribbled down the sides of your mouth. He pulled back slightly to give you room to breathe, but you keep your lips wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Gavin whined as you lazily bobbed your head, milking him for every drop. 

Connor followed immediately after, almost as if he was waiting for Gavin. His hips stuttered against your own, just as the aftershocks of your orgasm diverged dangerously close to overstimulation. He buried himself to the hilt as he twitched inside you, the thick ropes of his cum coating your walls. 

Gavin pulled out with a shuddering breath as soon as Connor came, watching as the android detective filled you to the brim. Eventually, Connor’s thrusts slowed to a stop, and he slid out of you. His cum dripped down your thighs, and you whined at the emptiness. 

Gavin lifted your chin and captured your lips in a soft kiss. You eagerly returned the kiss, savoring the way his lips felt against yours. A small part of you secretly missed that. 

He pulled away, “You did good, sweetheart.” 

You smiled at his praise, and he tucked himself back into his jeans. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Connor as he made his way to the door, “See ya, tincan.” 

Connor uncuffed you, and you stretched your arms as he helped you get cleaned up.  Once you were situated, he pressed a kiss to the inside of each wrist, frowning at the marks the cuffs left. 

You ran a hand through his hair, “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“Immensely,” he quickly answered. “Human relationships are still confusing to me. Does this complicate your feelings toward Detective Reed?” 

“No, I love you, Connor. That was purely physical,” you responded as you took his hand in yours. “Have you solved your case?” 

“Yes,” he grinned, “I had it solved as soon as you started flirting with me.”

You rolled your eyes before standing. “Let’s go home,” you said as you dragged him toward the door.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Bingo” DBH RK800 Connor x Human!Reader

(A/N: Oh, hey! I found an unfinished Connor insert reader and did the thing. And I have no idea when I typed this, maybe four years ago.

Warnings: language.

Word Count: 720 words)

Many things and people could irritate a person. Some times those were situations. Other times you were irritated by someone’s repetitive display of aggravation of a being’s mere presence.

A shift in the department seemed regular as ever. Paperwork and people moving about around you.

Only one of those were you tired of. Gavin Reed.

Good at his job? Sure, but he had no reason to be as rude as he was to Connor from CyberLife.

Connor, however analytical, was sweet. That not you would admit as much out loud in the precinct. Especially not to his assigned partner. You would never hear the end of it.

You weren’t normally the one to step up in a social situation you weren’t at least a little involved in, however you were one for subtleties. Plus, you just couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. Not any more.

Was that not something humans needed to do more of, helping one another?

Previously mentioned Reed spotted the android, alone.

How did you know?

The look of uncomfortable disgust on the detective’s face.

It was when you saw Reed making a beeline towards Connor, that you made your move. Rising from your seat, your feet lead you towards the break room. Smooth, silent, and thankfully fast.

Reed had already approached Connor with his back to you and his arms crossed in front of him.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be or are you doing coffee runs too?” Reed sneered.

“Lieutenant Anderson said that he required a large amount of caffeine. I offered my assistance.” Connor answered with what had to be a hot cup of coffee in one hand.

“So it looks like you’ve gained rank as a coffee dis—.”

“Excuse me, Connor,” you stopped about two steps from Reed’s side. “May I ask your help with something?” You gestured back towards your desk.

“Of course, detective,” Connor sent you a minuscule smile before looking back to Reed. “Pardon me, detective. Perhaps you would like to continue discussing caffeinated beverages later?”

“Hell no. Get lost, plastic.” Reed made a noise of disgust as he walked away.

One triumphant smile on your face and you were practically prancing back to your desk with Connor in tow.

By the time you reached your work station, Connor was giving you a focused look.

“What is it that you need help with?”

“Nothing that I know of,” you leaned your hip against the desk.

“Then why did you ask me for help?” He tilted his head.

“Well….puzzle piece number one, Reed is a jerk to you. Piece number two, I don’t think anyone should be treated that way and three,” you picked up a pen, “I’ve already finished a good portion of my paperwork.”

Connor’s eyes squinted in the slightest as his LED flickered.

“Your conclusion?”

“You wanted me to avoid a confrontation with Detective Reed.”

“Bingo.” You tapped the end of the pen to your nose.

“But,” his LED switched to yellow for a moment. “Why would you do that? I can handle many human interactions.”

“Because I felt like I needed to.” You shrugged and fiddled with the pen in your grasp.

“Oh.” The tiniest frown made it way onto Connor’s perfectly sculpted face.

Smiling at him came easily because of the way he tried understanding and yet not quite getting to the core of humans’ feelings. It was adorable.

“Connor.”

Lieutenant Anderson’s voice caught both Connor’s and your attention.

“Are you going to stand there all day chatting or give me my damn coffee and get back to work?”

“Sorry, Lieutenant.” Connor took long strides to the desk and gave him the cup.

You watched their exchange with an amused smile.

“Lieutenant Anderson, did you have breakfast this morning?” You asked.

“No. Why?” He frowned over the rim of the coffee cup.

You stretched over to the other end of your desk and retrieved a breakfast bar. “I got extra.” You held up the food. “It’s the good kind.”

“I’m not picky. Thanks.”

After exchanging glances with Connor, you tossed the wrapped bar. He caught it swiftly and handed it over to the Lieutenant.

“Connor, yah better not tell me what’s in it.”

“I-I wasn’t.”

You chuckled at the two and sat behind your desk feeling more accomplished than having your paperwork completed.

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @

Detroit: Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[nhlclover]

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 | 𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

summary: your boyfriend and his friends drunkenly create their own little fight club, in which he winds up getting hurt.

warnings: blood, mentions of fighting, mentions of drinking, slight angst, indications of nsfw content.

note: fun fact this is what my brother and his friends do for fun. they have their own walk up songs and everything.

word count: 0.9k

It was somewhere around midnight, or around when you finished page 4 of 8 of your paper, that you heard the crash and shouting from downstairs.

You needed somewhere to get your paper done, and with your roommate's boyfriend in town and the library closed at this hour, you turned to your boyfriend. He lended you his room while him and his roommates hung out downstairs.

They had been relatively quiet until a couple of minutes ago when the shouting started. You assumed they were playing video games, getting competitive as they normally do, however the crash was making you think something was wrong.

You set your laptop down, making your way out of Rutgers room and down to the living room where the boys were hanging out. As you turn the corner, you run smack into Ethan, coming out of the kitchen holding a wet rag.

“Oh, hey y/n!” He says, his voice louder and higher pitched than normal.

You are immediately suspicious, narrowing your eyes at the boy. “What’s going on? I heard a crash.” You ask.

“Nothing, just… spilled a drink is all.” Ethan says. You almost want to believe him but a sudden shout from the living room that sounds like your boyfriend makes you hesitate.

“Ow! Don’t touch it!” Rutger shouts.

You push past Ethan, going into the living room. On the coffee table are several bottles of beer, along with hockey helmets and boxing gloves. Sitting on the couch with a bright red gash on his left cheek, is your shirtless boyfriend, Dylan on one side and Frank on the other.

“What the hell is going on in here?” You ask. Ethan comes in after you, walking to Rutger to hand him the rag.

“Busted.” Mark says, standing beside the fireplace, sans shirt but wearing boxing gloves and a hockey helmet.

You look around noticing all of them shirtless, some wearing boxing gloves. “Okay what the fuck is going on?” You ask, now concerned more than anything.

“Hey babe.” Rutger smiles. He winces as his cheek muscles move. “How’s the paper coming?”

“Don’t change the subject.” You say.

“Okay, we had this really great idea that we would box but wear hockey helmets so our faces wouldn’t get fucked up.” Gavin explained. “But Roger here didn’t attach his helmet properly cause it slipped off, cutting his cheek when Mark gave him a sweet right hook.”

A look of horror appears on your face as you recognize the situation. “So you guys got drunk and decided to form your own fight club?” You ask.

There’s a beat of silence then all the boys nod, exhibiting a chorus of ‘yeah’s.

You shake your head in disbelief. “I am fully convinced none of you graduated kindergarten because what is wrong with you guys?”

They sense your disappointment, all of them hanging their heads slightly. You walk over to your boyfriend, taking the damp rag from his hand.

“C’mere.” You say, taking his hand and bringing him to the bathroom.

You re-wet the rag, dabbing it against the cut. He winces, pulling away. “Oh don’t be a baby, it's just water.” You say.

“Yeah…but it still hurts.” He mumbles.

He meets your eyes, reading the disappointed look on your face. “I’m sorry.” He says.

“Yeah, you should be!” You say, the fear that had manifested into anger spilling out. “Do you know how stupid this is?”

“It was just… a drunk idea.” Rutger shrugged.

“Exactly. What are you going to tell coach Naur when he asks where you got the cut on your cheek from? Are you gonna tell him that you got drunk and fought your teammates?” You ask.

“I didn’t plan to get my face all chopped up!” Rutger counters.

You step back, sighing. “I just… please be smarter?”

Your words seem harsh but Rutger understands what you’re saying. “I know. I'm sorry.” He says.

“I’m sorry too.” You say. “I was too snappy.”

“No it’s warranted. We were being idiots.” Rutger chuckles.

“You were being such an idiot.” You laugh, going back to cleaning his wound.

“I may be an idiot but at least I’m your idiot.”

You snort. “You really know how to talk your way out of trouble.”

“Hey, it works.” Rutger says, throwing his hands up in defense.

You clean away the rest of the blood, dabbing it dry. “You’ll need to go and get a proper bandage for it tomorrow.” You say.

“Or I don’t and I get a cool scar out of it.” Rutger says, checking out the cut in the mirror.

“No. No scar.” You shake your head.

“What? I thought scars were hot and mysterious?” Rutger asks.

You find yourself not being able to disagree with his statement, biting the inside of your cheek. You turn on the sink, cleaning the rag of your boyfriend’s blood.

“Oh I knew it.” Rutger smirks. He snakes his arms around your waist, making eye contact through the mirror.

He slowly places kisses up the nape of your neck, leaning around to place more on your jaw. You tilt your head, giving him better access.

His lips unlatch from your skin, you whimpering from the lack of contact. “How about a break from your essay?”

The pair of you exit from the bathroom, you sticking your head into the living room. “Sorry boys, the fight club is over. We’re heading to bed.” You tell them.

Rutger barely waits for you to finish your sentence before he hands your waist, yanking you back into the hall and towards the stairs. You let out a shriek as you’re pulled into his arms.

“Are you guys switching to wrestling now?” Mark shouts after you.

You guys ignore him and the rest of the boys jeering after you, stumbling your way up the stairs.

[gwynrieldreams]

How Gwynriel and Elucien mirror Quinlar and Satharion

SJM creates characters that mirror each other in each world. They have similar appearance/vibe, similar powers, similar backstory/family origins or similar role.

Rhysand, Ruhn and Dorian. Lidia and Aelin. Amren and Fury. Jessiba and Merrill. Connor and Sam. Einar and Beron. Danika and Fenrys or Danika and Nehemia, depending on how you see it. Yrene and Hypaxia. Vassa and Ariadne.

Even the villains, Vesperus and Maeve, the Valg, the Death Gods and the Princes of Hel. Their gods: Deanna and Luna, Hel and Hellas, Urd and Wyrd. Their kings and queens: Theia and Mala-firebringer. Fionn and Brannon. Elena and Helena. Gavin and Pelias.

Acosf and CC were written pretty much next to each other. So, what if Gwyn is Bryce's mirror?

They're both redheads with freckles.

Mixed: high fae + sth else that is considered lesser.

They work in a library/artifact gallery under a strict librarian.

They wear an amulet that librarians wear, with protective powers.

They both have Autumn Court heritage.

They both grew up or spent some of their childhood years in a temple.

Jelly jubilee was used to foreshadow that Bryce was Starborn and the heir of Dusk Court, while the miniature pegasus was connected to Gwyn in the scene where she cuts the ribbon and Emerie mentions that the pegasus liked Gwyn the best.

Bryce has light powers and it's possible that Gwyn also has similar powers. I believe since Bryce isn't interested in ruling or moving in Prythian, then the land will choose someone else. I just think that all those similarities and the miniature pegasus foreshadowing are something that cannot be ignored, in addition to Gwydion and the possibility that she'll be the one to wield it.

And what if Azriel and Hunt are also mirrors?

Hunt is called umbra mortis, which means shadow of death, while Azriel's name comes from Azrael the angel of death and he has shadow powers.

Dark and broody with wings.

Hunt worked as an assassin for the Archangels and hated himself, while Azriel is the torturer of the NC and hates himself. Also, this:

Just like Azriel, who was tortured and wasn't allowed to fly or see the sunlight for years.

Considering, also, the mating language parallels between the two couples, I believe all this just seals the deal for gwynriel endgame and opens the possibility that Gwyn could also be the one to wield Gwydion and/or rule Dusk Court.

Let's not forget their bonus chapters ended the same way.

Same goes for Sathia and Elain:

light brown hair and pretty

associated with flowers

in love with sb who broke up with her but still they went after him (Elain with Graysen, Sathia with Colin)

mated/married with a redhead who has done nothing but respect them and still wants to be with them after everything

Elain is soft and kind, loves to hold court. Her mother saw her as a "doll to dress up" and that she'd only marry for "love and beauty." Sathia is similar.

Lucien and Tharion also share similarities:

redhead, charming and sarcastic

no place to call home. Lucien is from the Autumn Court but his biological father is Helion, HL of the Day Court, he was emissary for Spring and now he's working as an emissary for Night, while staying in the human lands and in Spring Court/Tharion is mer but loves all things Above, he was hunted by the River Queen, he was staying with Ruhn, Flynn and Declan, until he was forced to make a deal with the Viper Queen

emissary work, Tharion is Captain of Intelligence but as we see he was sent as a representative to the Summit

Lucien wants to get to know Elain but her love for Graysen and her trauma makes it difficult, Lucien respects her decisions/Tharion married Sathia to get her out of a difficult situation but Sathia still went after Collin, Tharion respected her decision but still went after her in order to save her from the Viper Queen.

I think it's possible that Tharion and Sathia are also mates like Elucien, especially when we consider how protective she was of him against the Viper Queen -even though Colin was the one actually in danger.

[rockgodklav]

”…Ah.” Klavier’s mind has went to his own family and, though their situations were actually different, it got him to move on. He stood back up.

“I see, I see.. Well, ach,” Klavier moved on swiftly, humming a Gavinners’ tune as he brushed past Apollo and opened up the bedroom door. He seemed to walk in rhythm with the self-made beat.

He glanced back at Apollo. “Aren’t you coming along? I fear I may destroy your kitchen if you leave me alone for too long, ja.” It was an attempt to get Apollo to lighten up—to move on, for now.

And, well… Klavier couldn’t cook anyway, so there was some truth in his claim of ‘destroying the kitchen.’ He held open the door, grinning.

[[ AS A CONTINUATION OF THIS POST (REALLY LONG REBLOG CHAIN) ]]

[[ @jaydovekj ]]

// before I continue I want to point out that this is what Apollo looks like right now. It's not that important, he just looks funny. ignore the tiny chair/giant apollo, drawing furniture is hard & i made that while dead tired

"Advice? Hm." [The voice paused in thought, the man's wry smile easily visualized even with his lack of presence.] "Now, what would you need my advice with? You can make decisions for yourself, can't you?"

[Another pause occurred, more palpable than the last. But after a moment, he continued again, Kristoph's voice switching to a much more light, saccharine tone.]

"...But, who would I be, to not help guide you?"

[While his eyes had diverted off to the side, Apollo's brows were furrowed at the part of the conversation he could hear. Even the simple concept of Klavier talking to someone else, possibly about him, made him nervous... and going off of the man's demeanor, it could only really be one person, right?

He paused his thoughts, closing his eyes.

Frightened? No. If anything... he felt more embarrassed about the potential of him knowing. Knowing that left an odd pit in his stomach, his mouth pulling into a thin frown.]

[ahonice]

not my boyfriend

luke hughes x fem reader

word count: 9.6k (the google doc was forty pages long idk what happened i got carried away)

warnings: jokes about dying/being killed, drinking, mentions of harassment (none actually happens though, just a topic discussed.) cursing, party games, lots of fighting that could’ve been avoided, VERY unrealistic scenarios and timelines lol, reader is stubborn for no reason and pisses me off (sorry)

note: this takes place during luke’s first full season as a devil. also idk how season tickets work with the devils so... hope y’all enjoy, leave feedback and lmk what you think, love y’all babes <3!!!

+++

growing up in newark meant you were a devils fan by default. which wasn’t a bad thing, your father was a season ticket holder and often took you to games with him as you were the only one of your siblings who was still living at home.

you were the youngest of five, all others being boys, and the university you attended was only a five minute drive from your house so instead of moving into the dorms you continued to live at home. 

at each game you always wore unmarked jerseys, shirts, and hoodies. no number or last names on any of them, you weren’t a big enough fan to have a jersey that branded you so you stayed content with your blank ones. 

+++

it was the home opener for the devils and your father dragged you, along with all your brothers, out to attend the game with him. he managed to get tickets right behind the devils bench this year, you didn’t even want to know how much money he had to spend to get them. 

“dad isn’t this a bit much? the game is going to be the exact same if we were sitting in our normal seats, two levels above.” you asked him once everyone was situated and comfortable in their seats.

“oh shut up y/n, these seats are great and who knows maybe you’ll catch the eye of a cute hockey player and you can live out your trophy wife fantasies.” your brother, who was sitting two seats down from you, teased.

“shut up david.” you said reaching over your other brothers to hit him, which you did…three times.

“would you two cut it out, you’re attracting a crowd.” your father scolded.

he was right, not only were a few people sitting behind you watching, but so were a couple people on the bench in front of you.

you groaned in embarrassment and hid your face in your brother gavin’s shoulder. 

“kill me gav, kill me.” your voice was muffled.

“number forty three is staring pretty hard right now y/n.” gavin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

you shot your head up and made, brief, eye contact with a boy who looked around your age before he quickly looked away. another player, who looked just a little older than you, laughed at him before giving you a wink.

“i’m serious gavin, shoot me right here.” you said, pointing between your eyes. “like i’m a horse that just broke it’s leg.”

+++

after the game you went to dinner with your family before you parted ways. you had picked up your coworkers shift because he had a family emergency and wasn’t able to come in. during the summer between your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college you attended bartending school. you thought that working in the night life industry, especially as a young attractive woman, that you would be getting a lot of money in tips.

and you were correct.

your grandparents were covering your tuition, and since you were living at home there were no room and board charges, but you did have a car to pay for, books and school supplies, as well as an addiction to shopping that you had to support. so the job really was great.

it was a nice cocktail, lounge, styled bar. lots of business meetings took place, and overall upper class patrons were the ones who would visit. it wasn’t rare that local celebrities would stop by, or new yorkers wanting a lower tax on their tequila sunrise. so when a few people on the new jersey devils roster walked in, nobody was surprised. 

“y/n i’ll take bottle service for them tonight if you cover my side of the bar while i’m out? we can split their tip 70/30.” your coworker brian suggested after seeing them all make their way towards the private section, meaning they would not be ordering drinks themselves like all the other people in the establishment. 

“60/40, it’s a saturday night brian.” he rolled his eyes before agreeing, making his way over to the group as you began writing down tickets.

with brian gone you were now the only one behind the bar, it being a busy saturday night you didn’t really have any time to yourself. constantly getting new orders, or people confused why you needed their card to open a tab, you weren’t really planning on taking a break anytime soon. 

“what can i get you?” you asked whoever sat in the seat across from where you were currently fulfilling orders. you didn’t look up to properly acknowledge the customer, but you know they heard you because your question was quickly followed by a long “uhhhhh” before you placed the drinks you had been working on infront of their respective owners.

“while you uhhhh on that, i’m gonna go help customers that know what they want.” you didn’t really mean to be so rude, but you didn’t have time to provide good customer service.

“wait!” you had barely turned around before the customer stopped you. “i’m sorry, it’s just that i am not twenty one, so i don’t know what i can order here.”

“you’re not old enough to drink? how the hell did you get in? because if you used a fake i’m sorry but i’m gonna have to cut it.” you finally looked up from the glasses in front of you to see who exactly you were speaking with. he looked familiar, you couldn’t figure out where you knew him from. probably just a student you’ve seen around campus.

“no it’s nothing like that. i’m here with some of my teammates.” he nodded his head towards the private section where you could see brian making them drinks.

you looked back at his face again before the realization hit you.

“you were the player staring at me earlier.”

“you were the girl that slapped her brother in front of everyone earlier.”

you blushed at his recollection of you, he blushed at yours as well. 

“guilty.” you both said at the same time, causing some laughs to let out before the moment was interrupted by some people on the other side of the bar yelling that they wanted their drinks.

“i’ll be back in a little bit, sorry.” you apologized to the boy before turning to start making the drinks that the customers had ordered nearly five minutes ago, audibly groaning at the line that was forming all around the bar and the amount of people now entering.

+++

it ended up being nearly thirty minutes before the rush of orders you had gotten was cleared and you had time to go back to where that boy was sitting. you weren’t surprised that he was no longer there, but you were disappointed. 

you decided to take the rare break to your advantage and poured yourself a glass of apple juice, savoring the taste before you brought your attention towards the group in the back. brian must’ve really been working for those tips because you had never seen a group so entertained in your life. 

making eye contact with the boy, you smiled as he stood up from his seat, excusing himself from the group being met with a smirk from the guy he was sitting next to, who you recognized as the one who winked at you earlier.

“you know you guys are paying for bottle service, you don’t have to come up to the bar to order drinks. it’s kinda what it was made for.” you said once the boy had sat down in the seat he was in just an hour before.

“i know, but i don’t want the guys to make fun of me for ordering orange juice.”

“are you assuming that i wouldn’t make fun of you? because i would, and i will. i’m team apple juice.” you said, raising your glass filled with apple juice, into the air. 

“can’t drink on the job?” 

you laughed at how stupid of a question that was, just because you worked as a bartender doesn’t mean you have no decorum. “ couldn’t even if i wanted to, i’m nineteen.” 

“oh so you’re my age, well a year younger.” he smiled to himself. “i’m twenty.”

you nodded at his words, too busy closing out a tab to respond.

“how can you work here though? if you’re nineteen. don’t you have to be twenty one?” he asked.

“no, you need to be eighteen to serve alcohol in the states.” you responded, not even looking up.

“got it.” he trailed off, it quickly became awkward as you were too busy to give him the attention he was obviously looking for. “i’m luke by the way, don’t think i told you my name yet.”

“i’m y/n, but i’m pretty busy right now so maybe you could go back to your table. i don’t mean to be rude, but i can’t spend my whole shift talking to you and not working.” you told him, noticing the long line that was beginning to form again.

“oh yea of course, sorry. umm i’ll see you around.” luke said, getting up.

you didn’t respond and just walked over to the other side of the bar where the people who had been waiting the longest were.

luke sighed before walking back over to his group.

“what’s the matter lukey? couldn’t impress the hot girl by ordering an orange juice.”

“shut up jack.”

+++

it was only five days later that your father was bringing you along to another devils game and once again you got dressed in your unnamed jersey and a pair of leggings. you had work right after, having taken the closing shift tonight so you would be able to enjoy the game for at least an hour and a half before you would have to go.

“dad please tell me we aren’t in those seats again. you don’t need to be wasting your money like that, our usual seats are just fine.” you spoke as you followed your dad through the arena.

“sweetie, it is my money to spend and i wanted this. i never miss a home game, all of the money spent is being spent for good use.” you father responded, making his way down towards the glass. 

you had arrived after warm ups were finished so now you were just waiting for the game to actually start. playing a game on your phone, you were easily pulled into a trance and didn’t even realize that the players had made their way onto the ice until your father nudged you.

“y/n would you pay attention? the boy is looking at you again.” your head shot up at his words and you quickly made eye contact with the boy from last week, luke. 

he waved at you before turning around before you even had the chance to wave back.

“that was weird.” you said, not to anyone in particular, but you weren’t aware of your volume because that same guy that winked at you began laughing and pushed luke who was visibly blushing.

+++

“can i get an orange juice? on the rocks.” 

you turned around to see number forty three smiling at you, his hand behind his neck in an awkward stance.

“luke.”

“y/n.”

“is your group here today? we didn’t get any mentions of bottle service being needed tonight.”

“yeah, it was a last minute thing. i asked if we could come to this bar instead of the one we had planned on going to.”

“why? because the orange juice is that good?”

“without a doubt.” 

you laughed at his words before looking over at your coworker. 

“do you wanna do bottle service tonight? or should i?”

“i’ll do it. the general manager is here tonight and you know how she gets when it’s a group of men getting bottle service.” 

“got it, thank you brian.”

you looked back to see luke staring at you confused.

“why doesn’t she like men getting bottle service?”

“it’s not that, there have just been a few too many cases of us having to kick people out because of their behavior towards female bartenders.” 

“has that ever happened to you?” his voice suddenly angry, causing you to look at him funny.

“cool it casanova.” you laughed, ignoring his question because you have. that’s just what comes with a job in the night life industry though. “i have to get back to work, but i’ll see you around luke.” 

dejected, luke made his way to where his teammates were sitting.

“did you fuck up again?” 

“yes…? i honestly don’t know.”

+++

it had been two weeks since that night.

you hadn’t been able to make it to any of the devils games due to coming down with a bug, also causing you to miss school and work. it definitely wasn’t ideal considering it was nearly thanksgiving break, which meant it was nearly finals week. but you couldn’t complain, it was always nice to do nothing but binge watch investigation discovery and drink yellow gatorade all day.

“dad can i come with you to the game tonight? my fever is gone and i haven’t been sick in three days. i need to get out of the house badly.” you asked your father once he made it home from work.

“sure sweetie. i’m planning on leaving in half an hour, i want to make it to warm ups tonight.”  he replied, shuffling through the mail.

“got it dad, i’ll go get ready.”

+++

you quickly got ready for the game. deciding that you wouldn’t wear any makeup tonight, your eyelash extensions were enough to carry the rest of the face. tying your hair into a braid, you got dressed in an unmarked devils hoodie and leggings before throwing your shoes on.

“dad i’m ready if you wanna leave a little earlier.” you called out from upstairs, spraying your perfume on.

“sounds good hun, i’ll meet you in the car.” 

you were really excited for tonight's game, mainly because this was your first outing in civilization in nearly fourteen days, but a little part of you was excited to see luke again. 

a little part of you was afraid he had forgotten who you were, as you had only interacted a handful of times. 

a loud honk ripped you from your thoughts as you could hear your father yelling from outside.

“i’m about to leave without you y/n.”

+++

you sat in your seat playing on your phone as you anxiously waited for the game to start

“what’s got you so jittery?” your father asks, noticing your legs bouncing. “does it have anything to do with number forty three?”

your eyes widened at the second question that came from your father’s mouth.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you spoke defensively.

“well i thought i might ask because he has been staring at you since he got onto the ice.”

you had been so caught up in your thoughts that you missed warmups beginning, and looking up you met luke’s eyes.

you gave him a smile and a small wave, which he returned before number eighty six rammed into his shoulders and luke went back to what he was supposed to be doing.

+++

after the game you decided to tackle the large load of school work that had been piling up from your sick days.

you managed to spend a good three hours uninterrupted before your phone began ringing. you picked it up to see your general manager's contact shown on the screen. groaning you answered the call, hoping she wasn’t going to call you in because there is nothing worse than a friday night shift.

“hey y/n, i’m sorry to bother you but this boy is currently asking about you at the bar and i need to know if you know him or if i need to ban him from the property.” she spoke.

your eyes widened, a little scared because this wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve had creepy men asking about you on your nights off.

“what is his name?” you ask, you doubted it but there was a chance you did know him.

“luke hughes.” you heard him yell in the background.

“yes darlene, i know him. he is harmless, please let him leave the jail cell.” you joked, knowing for a fact she had him held captive in the office. 

“he wants your number.” she whispered.

“just give it to him, and seriously let him go. him and his teammates tip a lot.”

+++

from: *** *** ****

y/n?

from: *** *** ****

this is luke. 

from: *** *** ****

i’m a little nervous that your boss gave me a fake number just so i would leave her alone, so if you could respond that would be greatly appreciated.

to: *** *** ****

i’m sorry, but you’ve reached the rejection hotline. the person who gave you this number is not interested.

from: *** *** ****

lovely.

to: *** *** ****

i’m totally kidding.

to: *** *** ****

this is y/n lmao.

from: luke hughes

that is not funny.

+++

over the course of the weekend you and luke texted a lot. 

mainly just basic information. favorite food, tv shows, some random questions.

from: luke hughes

why do you wear blank jerseys?

from: luke hughes

and blank everything else? you never have a name or number on you at games.

to: luke hughes

that’s just not something i’m into.

to: luke hughes

there isn’t a hockey player i like enough to wear their name or number.

that wasn’t entirely true. 

while you were a devils fan by default, you were a hurricanes fan and sebastian aho enthusiast by choice. 

you had multiple jerseys and shirts with his name and number all over them, but the devils only played the hurricanes on home ice a limited time each season so you weren’t able to break out your collection all that often. 

luckily for you, the hurricanes were playing the devils at the prudential center in five weeks and that was one of the only things you were truly looking forward to these days, as sad as that sounds.

+++

“the boy who keeps asking for you is here.” brian said to you as he entered the office. 

“what do you mean keeps? darlene just told me about the one time.” you responded, turning your attention off of the roblox game you were playing and towards your coworker.

“because i’ve only ever gotten darlene involved once. he kept asking for your schedule that night and i nearly called the cops.do you know how scared i was? not for you of course, just of the amount of paperwork and witness reports i’d have to deal with. did i ever tell you about the time that one psycho came in here with a butter knife and threatened–” 

“brian focus.” 

“right sorry. he has come in asking for you at least ten times now. if you want me to kick him out i will, i’ve been working out.” brian finished his rant by flexing his muscles, that weren’t even there.

“you’re 5’7 brian. no amount of muscle will make up for that.” you started, picking your phone up. “i’ve got it don’t worry, but thanks.”

to: luke hughes

are you stalking me?

to: luke hughes

because i will get a restraining order against you.

to: luke hughes

i don’t care how attractive you are.

from: luke hughes

so you think i’m attractive?

to: luke hughes

is that seriously all you got from that??

to: luke hughes

STOP BOTHERING MY COWORKERS !!!

from: luke hughes

will do.

from: luke hughes

as long as you agree to go out with me this week.

to: luke hughes

fine.

to: luke hughes

but only because i would like to go one night without my coworkers asking if they need to place your image on the blacklisted board.

from: luke hughes

yeah totally “only because”…

+++

“so you expect me to believe that after the game tonight you are going out with luke hughes. the rookie player for the new jersey devils?” your father asks.

“yes dad.” you deadpanned.

you had told him of your plans for after the game tonight forty minutes ago and he does not believe you in the slightest.

“what did you take for your migraine earlier?” he asks, chuckling. “oh no, did you get into my medicine cabinet? i’m pretty sure i bought those painkillers back in ‘eighty-nine.” 

“you’re hilarious. now can we leave please? warm ups are already almost over.” you said, unamused, while your father was bent over laughing at his stupid joke. “i’m going without you.”

“like hell you are.” he said, snapping up right and marching over to the front door. “if you are telling me the truth i have to meet this boy and talk to him…to ask him if you’re blackmailing him into this.”

he added that last part once he was already outside, you groaned as you heard him laughing from inside the car.

+++

to: luke hughes

i will be waiting in the car park after the game whenever you get out.

to: luke hughes

also my dad wants to meet you.

to: luke hughes

he says it’s because he needs to make sure i’m safe, but really he just thinks i’m lying to him about your existence in my life.

+++

“sweetie when is he coming? it is late and i’ve got work in the morning.” your father asks, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“dad, i’ve already told you that you can leave. i don’t need you here.” you replied, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“what if he kidnaps you? or kills you? he’s got money, he could cover it up in an instant.” he snaps his fingers when he said instant to emphasize his point.

“i would never do that sir.” a different voice cut in.

both you and your fathers heads whip around and you’re met with the sight of luke, looking very good in his suit.

“holy shit y/n you weren’t lying to me.” your dad says, walking up to where luke was standing to shake his hand. “let me tell you kid, i thought my daughter had lost her mind.” 

“dad. please stop.” you stated, annoyed at his behavior, finding a spot to stand next to luke. 

“right. sorry sweetie.” he said before turning his attention back towards luke. “have her home no later than midnight.” 

“yes sir.” luke stated, before your dad turned around and walked towards his car.

“so where are we going?” you ask. “you’re dressed like we’re going to a five star restaurant and i’m dressed like we’re going to a drive thru.” you explained, pointing to the major differences in your attire.

“i’ll meet you halfway.”

+++

“is it too late to tell you that i prefer qdoba?” you told luke as he pulled into the parking lot of a chipotle.

“i think i should take you home.” luke joked, before running around the car to open your door for you, slightly tripping in the process. 

“i should warn you though, i get queso and guac on my burritos.” you told him, knowing that he would be paying.

“what? that’s like an extra seven dollars.” he complains, holding the front door open for you to walk in.

“should’ve taken me to qdoba, it’s free there.” 

+++

the night went very well.

you and luke talked about anything and everything. 

it was fifteen minutes to midnight when luke pulled up in front of your house to say goodbye.

noticing that the lights were on, luke asked if your father really stayed up to see if he had brought you home on time.

“i can guarantee he is currently in his recliner and snoring.” you told luke before you both started walking up the porch steps.

“well i had lots of fun tonight. you should really send me a text whenever you’re bored at work, i can always use my celebrity status to get in while being underage.” luke said once you had made it to the front door.

“your C-list celebrity status?” you started.

“-oh come on, i’m a b-list at least.” he cut in.

“don’t you have better things to do than sit at a bar and drink orange juice?” you finished your thought.

“honestly no. i don’t have any friends in jersey that aren’t my teammates.”

“well if you ever want to go to a party or hang out with me and my friends you always can, just text me if you’re ever bored at home.” 

you said your proper goodbyes and once you stepped into your house you saw your father asleep in his recliner.

to: luke hughes

*image*

i told you he would be asleep. he would never know if we actually stayed out past curfew.

from: luke hughes

did you catch him mid snore in that photo? that’s honestly a violation.

+++

from: luke hughes

i’m bored.

to: luke hughes

what am i supposed to do about that?

from: luke hughes

😑😑😑

to: luke hughes

I’M KIDDING

to: luke hughes

do you not have a game tonight? because i’m planning on attending a frat party tonight if you would like to tag along.

to: luke hughes

unless you are now above frat parties after finishing school.

from: luke hughes

i’d love to join you.

to: luke hughes

great! i was planning on getting there at 10:30. do you just want to drive to my house? my friends are taking me btw and we could always just double buckle.

from: luke hughes

yea sure. what should i wear?

to: luke hughes

oh nothing too fancy just a tuxedo.

to: luke hughes

bowtie included.

from: luke hughes

i hate you.

+++

“will you all please promise to be nice to him and be on your best behavior? i think i actually like this one and i don’t him to be scared away.” you warned your friends who were currently in your room pregaming.

“hey don’t look at me, i’ll be nice as hell to your new boy toy.” your best friend, trinity, spoke. you rolled your eyes at her before looking at the boys who crowded on your floor.

“cal, bass, and tyler.” you spoke firmly, attempting to intimidate them. “i swear to god if any of you make him uncomfortable, all of my images and videos from syllabus week are getting posted on the main.”

“sir yes sir!” the three shouted in unison, only causing your eyes to roll back further into your head.

“just please be welcoming. talk to him, get to know him, do not force him to play rage cage if he does not want to.” you emphasized that last point at kade.

“if he doesn’t willingly play rage cage he isn’t the one for you y/n.”

you were about to make a snarky comment but were cut off by your phone going off.

from: luke hughes

hey i’m outside. should i knock or wait out here?

to: luke hughes

just come inside, front door is unlocked. 

to: luke hughes

we’re upstairs in my room, just follow the sound of shitty music. my friend bass has aux tonight.

you could feel the nerves bubbling up in your stomach. you hadn’t informed the group that your luke was luke hughes, they were all devils fans and were in the know about things so they definitely know who he is.

“he is coming upstairs right now, y’all i’m serious, best behavior.”

the sound of a knock made all five heads turn towards the door.

“no fucking way-”

“shut it!” you cut cal off. “hey luke, come in. there are shooters on my desk if you want something to pregame with. trinity is sober tonight so you don’t have to worry about driving.”

luke makes his way over to your dresser and grabs three shooters before making his way towards the spot next to you.

“everybody this is luke, luke this is everybody.” you motioned your hands back and forth. “tyler, cal, trinity, and bass.” 

you pointed to your friends, who were looking at the two of you with shock and disbelief on their faces, as you named them.

“let’s go to the party, i wanna play rage cage.” 

+++

“is bass your real name or is it just a nickname?” 

after arriving at the party you and your group established where trinity would be all night everyone started asking luke questions, the majority of them were about hockey and the nhl before you texted the groupchat and told them to shut their fucking mouths about his career.

“nickname. my name is sebastian, but this one-” bass grabs onto your shoulders and pulls you in front of him. “-says there is only one sebastian in her life and i am, unfortunately, not him so she started calling me bass and everybody else just latched onto it.”

you glared at him before speaking. “i was being sarcastic when i told you that, and you came up with the fucking nickname.”

“yeah, it’s not y/n’s fault you share a name with the love of her life and future husband.” tyler said, giggling after you hit his stomach.

“okay let’s go play rage cage, y’all need to shut up.” you said making your way outside, trinity informed everyone that she would stay in her spot and to text her if it is urgent. “luke do you play rage cage?”

it was an important question. 

sure most people favor cup pong or even flip up as a party game, but rage cage was what you and your friends dominated at every function.

“i have never played it before. haven’t even heard of it.” luke shrugged. 

everyone’s movements paused for a second before hell froze over.

“WHAT?”

“you’ve never heard of it?”

“what fucking school did you go to?”

“y/n get him out of my face.”

you weren’t even sure who said what, but luke had a slightly scared look on his face. 

“they’re joking luke, let me teach you how to play.”

+++

“so your future husband's name is sebastian? should i even continue pursuing you?” luke asked, jokingly, once you two were left alone in the backyard, tyler had drank one too many bitch cups and needed to be nursed back to health.

“i am most definitely not marrying him. he is six years older than me, lives hundreds of miles away, and also knows nothing of my existence.” you informed luke before finishing your drink. “you should definitely continue to pursue me.”

+++

from: luke hughes

are you coming to the game tonight?

from: luke hughes

i have a proposition for you, if you are.

to: luke hughes

i’m listening

from: luke hughes

you wear my jersey tonight, and in return i win the game.

from: luke hughes

it’s a win-win situation

to: luke hughes

yea for you. i get nothing out of it.

to: luke hughes

also i do not own a jersey with anyone’s name on it, let alone yours.

to: luke hughes

and you are NOT buying me one. if i want a jersey i will pay for it myself…or my father will.

from: luke hughes

fine.

from: luke hughes

but when you become my girlfriend you have to wear my jersey, no matter what.

to: luke hughes

okay, if i become your girlfriend i will wear your jersey.

from: luke hughes

not if, when.

to: luke hughes

i’ll see you tonight weirdo.

+++

“your boyfriend is waving at you.” 

“david shut up he isn’t my boyfriend.” you responded to your brother, shoving him.

you waved back at luke before his smile dropped and he pointed towards the jersey david was wearing. how you didn’t see the name and number on the back before? you didn’t know.

“are you seriously wearing luke’s jersey right now?” you placed your head in your hands knowing the conversation that would come of this. “he asks me to wear it before every home game and i never do, and now my own brother is wearing his jersey and not me.”

“why won’t you wear his jersey?” your brother asks, finishing off his beer. “-and don’t give me that bullshit answer of you never wear anyone’s jersey. you wear aho’s.”

“that’s because sebastian aho is sebastian aho.” you deadpanned. “there has never been a player, besides aho, that i have liked enough to wear their number. i’m not a fan of anyone…besides aho.”

“yeah, but luke’s your boyfriend.”

“oh my god he isn’t my boyfriend, do you ever listen to me? idiot.”

+++

“so your brother wears my jersey, but you don’t?” 

the sound of luke’s voice drew your attention away from the tab you were closing out at work. “i knew you were gonna show up tonight. remind me again why i decided to give you my schedule?”

“because i’m awesome.” luke answered, taking a seat in front of you. “-but of course not awesome enough for you to wear my jersey.”

“are we still on that?” you asked, handing luke a pop. 

“yes we are.” he stated blankly. “seriously i don’t understand why you won’t just wear my jersey. you said you didn’t want to pay for one, and that i couldn’t pay for one. but now that i know your brother has one i would very much appreciate it if you would wear it, to at least one game.”

“i’ll think about it.”

+++

your answer was no. that was three weeks ago and you still had yet to wear a jersey with the number forty three on the back.

tonight you were excited. 

the carolina hurricanes were playing the devils at the prudential center tonight and you and your friends all got seats behind the canes bench. none of them were canes fans, but this one the one game a year that you had the opportunity to sit near sebastian aho and you would be damned if you missed out on that opportunity. 

from: luke hughes

you coming tonight?

to: luke hughes

yeah.

to: luke hughes

so are trinity, bass, tyler, and cal.

from: luke hughes

oh great, i haven’t seen them in a bit.

from: luke hughes

are you guys going out after the game? it’s a friday night.

to: luke hughes

yes we are. cal’s frat is hosting this sport night thing if you wanna come with.

to: luke hughes

just bring a jersey to change into after the game.

from: luke hughes

oh crap i don’t own any jerseys.

to: luke hughes

you’re hilarious bud.

to: luke hughes

but just so you know i’m not sitting in my usual spot tonight. my brothers are sitting with my dad tonight.

+++

“no fucking way.”

that was the first thing you heard as you got in bass’ car.

“what?” you asked, everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“you are wearing aho’s jersey.” tyler replied, speaking for everyone in the car. “and you’re dating luke hughes.”

“i am not dating luke, you guys know that.” you deadpanned, you were getting sick and tired of people mistaking you for luke’s girlfriend. almost as much as you were sick and tired of not being luke’s girlfriend. “-and you also know that i am a loyal sebastian aho supporter before anything else.” you added the end in a lighter tone of voice. 

“alright, but when luke gets upset with you tonight you cannot be angry when we tell you we told you so.”

the rest of the car ride only one thing, a question, was on your mind, would he really get upset with you?

+++

“oh my god!”

“how many times are you gonna say oh my god tonight y/n?” trinity asked.

she had a point. it was like the only thing that was coming out of your mouth.

“never.” you deadpanned. “sebastian aho is right in front of me. my future husband is right in front of me.” you got more giddy by the end of your statement.

“oh wow y/n, you’re blushing.” cal poked your side. “that’s pathetic.”

“lover boy, two o’clock. does not look happy.”

you looked over to your right and saw luke looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read, but bass was right, he did not look happy.

+++

“GOAL!” you screamed, shooting up from your seat. “SUCK IT DEVILS!”

“alright calm down y/n.” tyler said, laughing at you.

“NO! sebastian aho just scored his second goal of the night, if he gets one more i’m gonna lose it.” you replied, sitting back down.

“oh god you haven’t lost it yet?”

+++

to: luke hughes

hey! sorry about the game, you played great :)

to: luke hughes

if you do want to come to the party we’ll be at this is the address.

to: luke hughes

12345 house street

to: luke hughes

i hope to see you there.

“so is your boyfriend coming tonight?” cal asked. 

“not my boyfriend.” you started. “and i don’t know. i just texted him the address for him to meet us there if he wants.”

“ok. real talk,” trinity started. “do you want him to be your boyfriend?” 

“i do-”

you were cut off by the screaming of your four friends.

“shut it.” you snapped, effectively shutting them up. “i do want him to be my boyfriend, but i have no idea if he wants me to be his girlfriend. i mean we’ve known each other for three months and he has talked about us dating in the past but he hasn’t asked me out yet and i don’t know if he ever will.” 

“y/n don’t be like that. i can tell by the way he looks at you and acts around you that he likes you, a lot, and also he looked jealous as hell when he saw whose jersey you were wearing tonight.” bass said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

“okay enough with the pity party, lets go to the party. i need a drink.” 

+++

from: luke hughes

not really in the mood for a party tonight. 

to: luke hughes

oh ok. 

to: luke hughes

well i’ll see you soon, yeah?

“luke isn’t coming tonight.” you told the group, an upset look rested on your face.

“oh…well it’s probably nothing. i wouldn’t want to go out and celebrate a loss.” trinity said, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“ok i seriously need a drink now.” 

+++

it has been over a week since the game and luke hasn’t spoken to you once. 

all texts have been left unanswered, he hasn’t come to visit you at work, and when you were at the game two days ago he didn’t look at you once.

you were working the closing shift tonight, and it was a monday so it was not very busy. in the past you would text luke and he would arrive as soon as he could, but you stopped attempting to communicate with luke two days ago, after the game. he made it clear he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

“y/n, someone is at the bar asking for you.” you looked up from the wall you were staring at in the office to see brian. “not the usual one though. did you and your boyfriend break up?” 

you had a little bit of hope that it was luke for just a moment, before brian told you it wasn’t him. “he’s not my boyfriend. never was.”

you stepped out of the back room to see the other hughes brother sitting at your bar.

“hello jack. what do i owe the pleasure?” you ask, planting yourself across from him.

“we need to talk about you and luke.” he replied curtly.

“there is no me and luke, he has made it very clear that he is no longer interested in being my friend anymore.” you said, pouring a drink for no one, you just needed something to do.

“that’s the thing. he does want to be your friend, more than that. this past week he has not shut up about you and how you guys weren’t talking anymore. what happened?” jack asked, grabbing the now finished drink and bringing it to his lips.

“i don’t even know. we were planning on going to this party at my friends frat together and then after your guys’ game against the hurricanes he flaked out and hasn’t spoken to me since. i’ve reached out and haven’t gotten anything back, i was at the game on saturday and he didn’t even look at me, so if he is upset that we aren’t talking then he is just upset with himself.” you took a moment to catch your breath before looking at jack.

“whose jersey did you wear to our game against the hurricanes?” 

“sebastian aho’s. why?”

jack let out a chuckle and shook his head. “makes sense. he was muttering stupid sebastian aho and fucking homewrecker the whole way home and bunkered himself in his room for days.” 

“i always refused to wear his jersey to games, or his anything, and now i’m realizing i probably pissed him off by wearing someone else’s name and number when i’ve been telling him the whole time i’ve known him that the reason i won’t wear his stuff is because i don’t wear anyones.” you told jack, pouring another drink.

“i wouldn’t say he is pissed off. he is definitely upset though.” jack starts, standing up. “i think you should come to our game this thursday-”

“i always go to your games.” you cut him off. “well come to our game this thursday wearing his jersey. i think that is all he wants…well that and you being his girlfriend.” jack finished, not giving you a chance to respond before walking out the front doors.

+++

“david please, just let me borrow your jersey for one night.” you begged your brother over the phone.

“no can do little sis. just go buy your own, i mean it might be beneficial to own your own luke hughes jersey when luke hughes is your boyfriend.”

“david i’m not even gonna say it, but seriously? where am i gonna find a jersey on such short notice?” “at literally any store in newark. walk down mainstreet and you’ll probably find five in the front window of shops.” david answers, the sarcastic tone in his voice pissing you off further.

“goodbye. i’m gonna go walk around looking for a jersey in the freezing cold now.”

+++

to: luke hughes

hey. i know we haven’t talked in a little bit but i spoke with your brother the other day. 

to: luke hughes

i’m going to the game tonight, if you would be willing to let me see you after i would really appreciate it.

to: luke hughes

i would like to talk to you.

+++

you weren’t able to find a jersey with luke’s number on it so you wore a blank jersey tonight, which kind of crushed your original plan for the evening, but you still had to try.

“are you sure sweetie? because i have no issue waiting until he shows up.” 

“yes dad, i’m sure. i’ll be fine, please go.” you assured your dad, pushing him towards his car.

it wasn’t until forty minutes later that you heard footsteps approaching you. you turned your head around and frowned at the sight of jack hughes walking your way.

“sorry i’m not the brother you wanted to see, but luke left as soon as he could and ubered back to our apartment.” 

you nodded in defeat. “thank you for telling me. i’ll just order myself an uber home then…tell luke i said good game and if he ever wants to talk he can message me.”

“why don’t you tell him yourself.”

+++

trinity would literally die if you told her whose car you were currently sitting shotgun in. 

“luke made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk to me, or even see me. i don’t think this is a good idea jack.”

jack had convinced you that the best thing to do in this situation was to confront luke directly. not as much convinced you, but rather offered you a ride home and said he had to make a stop on the way, that stop being his and luke’s place. 

“y/n luke is miserable not talking to you, and that is making me miserable.”

“well he wouldn’t be so miserable if he would just text me back, he is the one choosing to not speak to me. can we just get this over with? drive faster.”

+++

“luke’s room is down that hall, second door to the right.” jack informed you, you thanked him quietly before making your way to luke’s room. 

you knocked gently and got no response so you knocked again, a little harder.

“jack i’m not in the mood right now. go away.” 

you tried to speak up but nothing came out, so you just knocked again.

“jack i’m serious. this whole y/n situation is messing with my head, i played awful tonight and i just want to go to sleep.”

“well if it’s messing with you so much and making you as upset as jack says it is then maybe you should just text me back and we can figure out how to fix this.” you spoke, frustration clear in your tone. 

you didn’t give him the chance to respond before you made your way out of their apartment and towards the stairwell, ordering an uber as you ran down the steps.

once outside you saw that your uber was about five minutes away so you were forced to just stand there and wait. from: luke hughes

i’m sorry.

from: luke hughes

please come back up. 

to: luke hughes

no.

from: luke hughes

please. let's talk about this.

to: luke hughes

i’ve given you many chances in the past week for us to talk and you’ve ignored me each time.

to: luke hughes

it’s my turn to be upset now.

+++

that was two weeks ago and you haven’t seen or spoken to luke since.

you went to your mothers house is oregon for christmas and came back to new jersey today. 

the second you ended your gift exchange with your father you went up to your room and opened your texts with luke.

from: luke hughes

y/n i’m sorry.

from: luke hughes

please talk to me.

from: luke hughes

merry christmas, i got you a gift. i asked your coworker brian where you’ve been, he said it that you were spending christmas at your moms this year so i’ll give it to you when you get back.

from: luke hughes

please text me when you get back.

from: luke hughes

i need to see you.

you spent a few moments contemplating whether to send a text or to continue ignoring him, even if the later was driving you crazy.

before you could stop yourself you sent a message, and got one back immediately.

to: luke hughes

i’m back in newark.

from: luke hughes

on my way

you slightly panicked when you realized that after nearly a month of silence between the two of you, luke was now going to be in front of you and in your presence again. you didn’t know what you were going to say, worry filled you thinking about the many outcomes that could happen.

“sweetie, luke is at the door for you.”

you timidly stood up and took a deep breath or two before making your way downstairs. 

“hey luke, let’s go up to my room to talk.” 

luke nodded before stepping inside, giving your father a proper greeting before heading up the stairs.

“ok, so can you start off by telling me why you ghosted me for a full week?” you asked him once he had sat down on your hammock chair, you across from him on your bed.

“you wore someone else’s jersey.” luke started, letting out a deep breath afterwards. “after you told me for months that you never wear anyone’s jersey, so you wouldn’t wear mine.”

the sound of your friends yelling “i told you so” played in your head, but you pushed it aside to focus on what was happening in front of you.

luke was now in your closet, where he would find your many, many, aho items.

“luke please get out of my closet.” you were angry, he had no reason to be searching your things.

“how many things do you own of him. jesus.” luke said once he finally walked back into your bedroom. 

“luke i’m sorry that i lied to you about never wearing anyone else’s jersey, but is that seriously why you ignored me?” you were a little skeptical of his reasoning.

“why did you ignore me for multiple weeks?” luke ignored your question.

“because you were the one leaving me on read and skipping out on our plans, but then you went around telling people you were miserable not talking to me as if i was the one who failed to reach out and that made me angry. i gave you so many opportunities luke…and you didn’t take up any of them. so i got mad and i knew i was about to leave town for two weeks and i didn’t really wanna communicate with you during my vacation.”

“why did you lie to me?” luke asked, now taking a seat next to you on your bed.

“i honestly don’t know. i’ve only ever worn aho’s number, just feels weird wearing someone else’s. and i was being honest, other than aho, there has never been a player i like enough to wear their jersey until now.” you sat up from your spot and walked over to one of the gift boxes sitting on your floor, during your gift exchange with your dad you received a devils jersey with the number forty-three and hughes on the back as well as some shirts and hoodies with the same thing. “these were all gifted to me for christmas. i asked for them. i wanted to wear your jersey, i have for a while now, but i was just unsure of what it would mean. can you tell me why you got so angry?” you asked the question that had been on your mind for weeks.

“y/n i like you and i want you to be my girlfriend, i never asked you though because you wouldn’t even wear my fucking jersey no matter how much i begged you to so why would you say yes to being my girlfriend.”

“god luke again with the fucking jersey, i don’t get the big deal it’s just a piece of fabric.” you yelled, getting frustrated. 

“it means something! ok y/n, it means something.” he starts. “there is a difference between wearing a jersey as a fan and wearing a jersey as a girlfriend, something personal and intimate, and you won’t even wear my jersey as a fucking fan.”

it felt like you were talking in circles and it was driving you crazy. 

“that is what i’m saying luke. i didn’t ever wear your jersey because i didn’t know what it would mean. i didn’t know if we were friends or something more, and wearing your jersey could’ve given us both the wrong ideas.”

“what idea would it have given you?” luke asked, taking a step towards you.

“that i’m something more to you than a friend, and i didn’t want to think that because it isn’t true” you admitted the truth, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, but rather yourself. “-and i don’t like to get my hopes up.” 

luke didn’t respond, he just sat there in silence for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to three minutes.

“luke if you want to leave, just go. i’m sorry i ruined our friendship, i wish you the best in the rest of your career and life-” 

your words were cut off by lips touching yours, luke’s lips.

after a few moments you broke the kiss, not liking how fast it was progressing.

“luke what was that-”

“i like you, y/n. as more than a friend, that is why i wanted you to wear my jersey so badly. i wanted to feel special, because you have this rule about never wearing anybody’s jersey, but you wore mine and you wore mine because i mean something to you whether that be a friend or something more, i just wanted to feel like i meant something to you.” luke practically yelled, interrupting you.

“i feel like we are both making the same points, but just phrasing them differently each time.” you spoke, trying to choose your next words carefully. “what do we do now? how do we move past this?” 

“well, you could agree to go on a date with me and wear my jersey to the next home game. that would be a start.” luke offered, grabbing both of your hands. “-you could also let me kiss you again, i’d really like that.”

“deal.”

+++

“sweetie are you almost ready? we’re gonna miss warmups.”

“coming dad.” 

you quickly made your way downstairs, checking your appearance in the multiple mirrors you passed by on the way towards the car.

“wearing your boyfriend's jersey i see?” your father quipped once you got into the driver’s seat, he demanded you drive because you had just gotten a new car.

“not my boyfriend.” was all you said in response.

“still? that boy needs to grow a pair.”

from: luke hughes

are we still on for after the game? 

to: luke hughes

yup! meet me in the car park when you’re done?

from: luke hughes

👍

+++

after the game you parted ways with your father, him taking an uber home and leaving you with your car to drive you and luke around tonight. which isn’t traditional, especially for a first date, but you loved betty, your new car, and you wanted to drive her.

“wow the new car is dope y/n.” 

you turned around and saw jack and luke walking towards you, the older hughes speaking.

“-and nice jersey, next time wear an eighty six for me, yeah?” 

“never gonna happen jack.” luke started, before turning his attention to you. “you ready to go?” 

“yes i am, you can put your bag in the trunk.” i opened up the trunk with my keys before getting in the driver's seat. “where are we going?” 

“i’ll give you directions as you drive.” luke said, plugging his phone into the aux.

+++

a few minutes later you pulled into a qdoba. 

“wow you know me so well hughes.”

“i just didn’t feel like paying extra for your queso and guac.” luke deadpanned.

“yeah right, i know i’m turning you into a qdoba enjoyer.” you teased as you entered the restaurant.

after getting our food luke gave me an address of where to drive for our late night picnic. it was a lookout place that luke had found when he first moved here, you had been here multiple times as well and knew of a good place to sit.

“follow me” you hopped over the barbed wire fence and waited until luke made it over to start walking again.

“are you sure this is allowed?” luke whispered.

“i know for a fact that it is not, but it’s fine no one is here right now it’s after dark.” you said back at full volume, earning a loud shhhh from luke in the process.

you walked a little bit more before you made it to your favorite ledge, you could see all of newark from here and a little bit of new york, but when you looked up there was a perfect view of the stars.

“how did you find this place?” luke asked, digging into his food.

“i was hiding from the cops one night and me and tyler ended up here.” luke’s eyes widened at your story. “i’ll tell you more about that later, but ever since i’ve been coming here.” 

we continued to eat and talk about random things until it was time to go.

“we should probably go, it’s nearly midnight.” 

+++

once you finished the drive back to luke’s apartment you got out of the car to say your goodbyes.

“well i had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it-” luke cut you off by kissing you. “you have to stop doing that.” you teased.

“sorry, it’s just that you look really good in my jersey, like really good. i was struggling not to jump over the glass when i saw you during warmups.” luke admitted, going in for another kiss. “look y/n, i was wondering if you maybe wanted to be my girlfriend?” a blush crept up luke’s neck as he spoke.

“i would love that.” you replied, a blush spread across your cheeks.

we said our goodbyes and you drove home, not expecting your father to be awake on the couch.

“oh you’re awake?” you asked, taking your shoes off.

“yeah just wanted to make sure you were safe.” your dad replied. “how is your boyfriend?”

“he is great.” you replied smiling, not correcting him for once because now he really was your boyfriend.

+++

note: BOOOO HAPPINESS no but this literally took me a month to finish because i had absolutely no energy and no inspo to write anything. idk if i like this yet…but ANYWAYS hope y’all enjoyed, leave feedback, have a great day, love y’all babes. 

[dreamyyesenia]

Always Keep Simming - The twins’ birthday party

Gavin and Gemma’s birthday party was held at the Recreation Center in San Sequoia. The entire family came - aunts, uncles, cousins, Aileen’s mother and father and of course, her brother. Of course, one of the main events- other than the twins blowing out the candles and opening presents, was… you guessed right, dancing! The watcher knew there’d never been a family like this before… it made the watcher’s job so much more enjoyable. 🕺💃🏻

Aileen embraced her little brother Luke tightly. He was about 8 years younger than her and despite the age gap, they had always been very close. In fact, Luke was planning on moving to Willow Creek or Newcrest - much to his parents disapproval but he missed his sister too much.

Evangeline (l) and her brother Raphael (r). Alexander and Delilah’s first and second children. There was just a year between these two and they’d always been inseparable. They were global superstar’s and known for their defeat of The Mother and saving Strangerville - and consequently the entire SimWorld - from an infectious disease destroying their world slowly. On top of that, Raphael was an agent. He and his team made sure that SimWorld would stay free from abominations imported from space spreading diseases and enabling aliens to conquer their world. Colin knew about their story of course and admired their strength and determination, as no one else had dared to face The Mother for years. Aileen and Colin were thinking about not only telling Alexander about their situation with the aliens and the spellcasters, but also Evangeline and Raphael. Aileen knew her mother and father would be furious if she kept this a secret from them. Though they didn’t see each other as often as they’d like, Aileen and her parents were very close, talking and oftentimes face timing every day.

Oh what a surprise it was to the watcher to see Stella Hecking - Aileen’s half sister and declared enemy* attending the twins’ birthday party. She hadn’t appeared to any gathering in more than 10 years. 👀

* For context: Stella slept with Aileen’s boyfriend at the time behind her back (and also in front of her lmao) and she also flirted with the husbands of her aunts 🤢😫 - and that was even though I had specifically set who they can romance with RPO. This had never happened to me before. I was actually going to play with her and Aileen both for this gen - but when this happened despite all of my efforts I kind of took it as a sign lol. Stella definitely has her own kind of backstory and struggles though, so don’t be too hard on her..

[peskellence]

could I please request some reed900... 👉👈

Nines' skin is malfunctioning, but Gavin reassures him (in his own, Gavin way) that he accepts him as he is? Skin or no skin?

thank you. bless. kiss. forever indebted💕

Say less, friend, I've got you 🫡

Fail Safe

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: M/M, Established Relationship, Fluff, Praise and Affirmation, Self Acceptance.

AO3 Link

Summary: Gavin and Nines are on security duty when an unexpected cyber attack results in the android's synthetic skin being compromised. Despite his worries, Gavin reassures him that their bond runs deeper than the pieces they are made of.

Word Count: 4.7K

Gavin and Nines had been assigned to security duty at the opening ceremony for a new Jericho Community Centre. It was due to be a pretty contained event, nothing overly flashy or publicised. Normally, it wouldn't demand any police involvement, but there had been whispers the Anti Android Alliance planned to attend—staging some sort of protest. 

This turned out to be true, although not in the way that could've been anticipated. It seemed a particularly enlightened Dipshit In Charge had decided the usual M.O. of bats and bricks wouldn't cut it. Instead, they were going to make some waves with a street-deployed cyber attack. Send their 'message', whatever deranged bullshit that might be, by taking out some local figureheads with a home-brewed virus. 

Fuck knows how they'd manage to string together the spaghetti code with their three collective brain cells—or how they'd loaded up said clusterfuck onto the batons concealed in their pockets. Nevertheless, about five minutes into the presentation, they started swinging. Weapons bared and flung into the faces of nearby pedestrians as they tried to make their way to the stage. 

Shit hit the fan, but fortunately, not for their targets.

It turned out the engineering at Fuckhead H.Q. was just as shitty as the planning, as the would-be attempt at corporal justice folded like a house of cards. Most of the batons didn't work, and with the ones that did, the virus wasn't able to execute the way they'd wanted. 

The intent had been to infiltrate the android's core systems through mass corruption of their internal networks. Ultimately, overloading the CPU and causing permanent shutdown, but without plugging the device directly into an access port—which they clearly had no idea how to do, and their targets weren't about to help with—its reach was incredibly limited.

Basically, it couldn't do shit. Stalling at the first line of defence: the chassis. Digital garbage hurled at a plastic wall. 

Nines had been hit by one of the bastards—stuck in the side of the neck as he wrangled them away from a Jericho representative. Handling of the situation became a lot less gentle after that, with the man catapulted onto the floor, squealing like a pig as the android pinned his flailing limbs. Gavin had moved to assist, feeding the guy a couple of teeth for his trouble.

Total accident, of course. The man just happened to move his face as he was getting the cuffs on, and it just happened to slam into the detective's fist. 

He didn't get much of the chiding he'd usually expect for this, as the virus had started to do its thing. Working across his partner's body, flickering in patches like a broken LCD. The corruption branched down his throat before retreating beneath his collar in search of available access. 

Much like with the other android's affected, it failed. Nines was fine, mostly: the only exception being that the malware had managed to fuck up one of his less important functions. His synthetic skin. 

At least, that's what the Cyberlife Tech on the phone suggested was happening when they decided to call. The glitches spread, with the majority hidden beneath clothes—but Nines could undoubtedly feel the effects of corruption taking hold. While he wasn't sure if this was something they really needed to worry about, the concept alone left a bad taste in Gavin's mouth.

They were forced to leave reinforcements to book the fucker responsible, as well as the rest of his brain-dead friends. A shame, as the detective would have loved to acquaint him with the book about to be thrown his way. Maybe give him a black eye to go with the dental bill. 

As they made their way home, the vibrancy of glitches had started to decrease, fading into a translucent creep that filmed across the skin. Whatever receptors were present to lend cloaking abilities were beginning to short-circuit, creating an expanding kaleidoscope of freckles and plastic. 

Gavin used full siren privileges to run every red light they encountered, determined to weave through the traffic as quickly as possible. He had never seen the android so panicked—frenzied—like the car would be at risk of imploding if it didn't imminently materialise outside their home. 

With his understanding of Michigan Traffic Laws becoming increasingly lax, Nines continued to rip into the rep held at knifepoint in his temporal channel. He hadn't bothered to lock communication to his internal server and instead was speaking out loud—in a tone that a more diplomatic man might describe as 'a bit confrontational.'

In reality, he had gone all seven shades of middle-aged-mom-with-an-expired-coupon. Demanding the guy listen to every minute detail of his grievance and inform him how quickly it could be resolved. 

Gavin would have found this hilarious had the intensity not been a little terrifying. Instead, it inspired him to punch the gas harder, resulting in a chorus of beeps as he pulled a particularly dangerous manoeuvre around a sharp bend. 

It didn't seem to matter what the squeaky-voiced foetus on the line said; each suggestion was ruled unacceptable. Commencing a perpetual cycle of 'that isn't fast enough' and 'speak with your supervisor' and 'this is an emergency, William; it should be prioritised accordingly.' The rep responded to each chastisement with small, deflated whimpers, like a punctured balloon expelling air.

The virus, now engaged fully, worked in stages to target each section of artificial skin. Limbs faded out in sporadic blotches as glossy pinpricks expanded their way into dense bands of white. They tunnelled through rapidly shrinking pockets of flesh, with Nines looking like a six-foot lava lamp by the time they finally reached the apartment.

Admittedly, it was a strange image—with this something the android seemed astutely aware of. He had charged for the bathroom and locked himself in within seconds of entering their home, informing Gavin with no uncertainty he would not be coming out until help arrived.

This was all well and good at first, but after three hours—and five espressos—nature was calling. Not softly, either, having been forced to wait for a good fucking while. 

The pressure grew, and rather than risk a hole being punched through the wall of his bladder, Gavin concluded he couldn't hold it. Rapping his knuckle on the wood, he pressed his face against it, making a pointed appeal to his partner.

"Nines, I need a piss. Let me in for a sec." 

The request went ignored, bouncing uselessly off the door and crumpling at his feet. Frustrated, he knocked again, using his available grip to jiggle insistently on the handle. 

"Come on, I'm desperate. Open the fucking door."

"The Cyberlife technician will be here soon," an even tone greeted him, undercutting the demand. "I am confident you can wait a few more minutes."

"It's been more than a few, jackass."

"The operative advised that their arrival would fall between 2 and 7. As we are nearing 6:45, we can anticipate—"

Gavin disrupted the explanation with a prolonged groan of protest. His head lulled back as he grappled with a growing temptation to slingshot it through the panel. "Those windows mean jack shit. You'll be lucky if the bastard shows up before June. Hell, you'll be lucky if he shows up at all." 

There was a weighty pause as though Nines was attempting to formulate some form of mind-shattering retort. Words of assurance so profound they would effectively conclude the debate—as well as any and all that followed.

Despite having a world of knowledge quite literally wired to his brain, the android gave him nothing. Treading over the same tired deflection with a small, dejected huff. "Just wait. It won't take long." 

"If you don't let me in, I'm gonna go in the litter box—or the kitchen sink."

The latter threat inspired a visceral reaction. Gavin swore he could see the red casting from his partner's temple, seeping through the cracks under the door. "You wouldn't dare." 

"Try me. It's full of dishes. You want that on your conscience?"

As though taking a moment to grapple with the grim proposal, Gavin was made to wait in anticipation of his partner's reply. A lull that seemed to stretch endlessly, as he tried not to focus on the uncomfortable pressure in his groin. Crossing his legs, he tapped his foot impatiently—a motion that would have likely attracted the attention of a marauding cat were she not out harassing strays. 

There were muffled sounds behind the door, like rustling fabric, followed by the telltale scrape of something heavy being moved. It seemed like Nines had gone to the effort of barricading himself inside, just in case Gavin managed to break through the flimsy hold of the lock.

"Turn around and keep your eyes forward. I will only leave this room on the condition you do not look." 

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the man grunted, eyes rolling at the theatrics. "I swear I won't look. Scouts honour."

Another rustle followed—and a click—as an internal mechanism was turned and released. The door creaked forward, with casts of fluorescents from beyond the passage starting to leak into the hallway. True to his word, Gavin turned around. Gaze fixed on a nearby wall—as though the flecked chips of paint were the most engaging things he had ever seen.

The panel swung open completely, anchored on creaking hinges, and steady steps crossed the threshold. They did not progress much further, as Nines failed to meet the steady foundation of the carpet, instead greeted with a cat toy being compressed beneath his weight. 

The worn squeaker of the felt mouse strained to its absolute limit, wheezing in a prolonged cry, until it slipped out from beneath his toes and careened across the room. 

Shit.

Nines opposed the trajectory, fumbling back and colliding firmly with the weathered plaster behind him. Dangerously close to where they kept their beast of burden's scratching post.

Shit. 

Gavin wasn't sure if the glitching had affected his partner's durability, but he didn't want to find out. Certainly not by being forced to remove him from a surprisingly solid pillar of plywood. 

Nines already had one near miss today. The last thing he needed was for the engineer's visit to end up a real emergency.

Don't turn, don't—

His head whipped around despite all resistance. It had been out of instinct, really, with no malicious intent intended. An innate compulsion to assist, justifying that he would've been more of an asshole if he'd wilfully allowed his boyfriend to skewer himself.

It only occurred just how badly he had fucked up when he saw him. 

The partners froze, eyes locked, and the room around them seemed to vanish. The structural integrity of limbs and furniture was immediately forgotten as Gavin's heart plummeted into his ass. 

Nines looked horrified. His LED flashed like a warning beacon, crimson pulses growing in frequency the more his eyes widened. He stayed that way for a period. Paralysed. Like a startled deer out on a highway, about to be struck by an oncoming vehicle. 

It was nothing like him at all, and Gavin found it deeply unnerving. He then proceeded to make it worse, executing all the same grace of a violent roadside collision. Allowing the first slack-jawed musing that popped into his skull to tumble tactlessly from his lips:

"Oh shit."

The red illuminating Nines' face took on a different meaning in the wake of the outburst. He had broken free of his prey-like stupor and emerged angry—furious. Taking laboured strides toward the bathroom, levelling his partner with an increasingly scornful glare.

"I told you not to look." 

Gavin winced at the accusation dripping from the words, as they were dragged through the snarled curl of the android's mouth. Damage control was needed, but he was unable to engage the appropriate mental factions. 

Instead, he attempted to downplay his previous stunned reaction—gesturing his boyfriend up and down with feigned indifference:

"This is why you've been holding the shitter hostage?" He noted how his arm cast shadows against the sheened wall of plastic, masking his intrigue with a scoff. "Really, that's it?"

Nines jerked back, expression pinched as though he had been struck in the face. "What do you mean, 'that's it'? Gavin, look at me."

"So you're a bit pale. Grey round the gills. You should've seen me this one time at Summer camp." Gavin chuckled preemptively, arms folded across his chest as he attempted to recall the memory. "Man, I'd eaten like seventeen s'mores, and I swear they'd laced the marshmallows with laxatives because, after that, I couldn't…"

He trailed off as the pronounced scowl etched deeper into his partner's face. Informing it wasn't the time for jokes—and that the legendary saga of Preteen Gavin and the Exploding Bowels would have to wait for another day. 

"... Seriously, what did you think I was gonna do?" he challenged, abandoning the playful lilt in favour of something serious. "Freak out and run for the hills because you look like a robot? Because newsflash, genius, I kind of got that. Your skin turns into a goddamn Rorschach every time we do it. Not to mention the static orgasms—" 

Nines raised a hand to stop him, clearly not appreciating the growing vividness of the account. "There was a time when this would have been an issue. Please don't insult me by denying that."

His voice was stern—gravelly with a mixture of frustration and hurt—as his expression hardened further. A feat the detective had thought impossible. 

He bore into him with sharply trained eyes, still the same vibrant grey they'd always been—despite everything else that had changed.  

Remorse struck hard, twisting his gut and nearly knocking him back. Nines was right: not long ago, this would have been a big deal. 

The consequence of a roadblock which spanned the numerous tangled alleys of his mind. Something established by years of resentment, growing uncontrollably over time. Soon, it had become impossible to bypass, not that he'd made much effort to try. Facing the beast, he just knew it was insurmountable.

That was until Nines arrived, rolling up to the rickety wagon he'd parked against the barrier and all but ripping him out. Tugged from his seat by the goddamn ears as he kicked and howled in protest.

"Plastic fucker—"

Of course, it wasn't all that dramatic. It didn't happen immediately, and definitely not in a single pull.

The occurrence had been slow and gradual, with Gavin only starting to scream when he realised what was happening. Because the closer they got—moved from aggrieved associates to unexpected friends—the more he had to challenge everything he understood about being alive. A painful, arduous process that forced him to confront wrongs he didn't even know he'd committed.

The conclusion should have brought relief, but instead, it was hollow. Something was still missing—and it sure as hell shouldn't have been. His entire worldview had been uprooted, enriched, and expanded by Nines' perspective.

What more could he possibly want?

Then came that one night spent together on surveillance. They'd been scoping out some low-life dealer: a notorious scumbag who had been running operations out of the back room of an underground nightclub. It was a particularly seedy establishment, turning out to be more 'brothel' than 'party spot.'

They had been forced to adjust their approach, cosying up to one another in an effort to assimilate with the handsy patrons. Not that Gavin was complaining—which, in itself, brought to light something extremely damning. The emergence of a serious problem, one that threatened to blow up his fragile state of composure with a fucking grenade. 

A particularly enlightening moment occurred—where Nines had him pinned to a wall, held firm by his wrists—when he realised it was too late. The problem was there. Had been for a while. Shaped into the contours of a chiselled jawline and a cool, bright stare he wanted to drown in.

"Keep still, detective. Eyes on me. I believe I have a visual." 

The request had been low, practically purred against his ear. It had sent his heart rate skyrocketing, blood rushing in frantic pumps through the lingering echoes of words still dancing in the canal. 

Oh fuck. 

After that, he couldn't keep convincing himself that he was content with friendship. He wanted more, wanted this, without having to pretend. Desperation drove him to the insane stunt he pulled seconds later. If it failed, he could always claim it was part of their 'performance.'

An excuse that wasn't needed.

Their lips had met, and after a fleeting blip of hesitation, Nines reciprocated. Practically melting into him, abandoning his wrists in order to capture the sides of his face. Like he was holding something valuable— worthy of care and reverence.

They'd lost their visual on the target, as well as any hope of catching up to their boss, but the impromptu trip to a motel had been worth the berating they received from Captain Fowler. 

It couldn't be overstated just how grateful Gavin was that Nines had chosen to give him a chance. To show acceptance despite everything he had put him through. 

Because even if he was better, nothing could change the foundational truths of the man he was. The innumerable faults that would continue to persist despite all best efforts. Recklessness, arrogance, and spite. Baggage that came wheeled on a dolly cart, stacked to the ceiling.

None of it mattered. 

The android took it all—willingly—and without any ultimatum. From the start, the only expectation had been that Gavin would do right by both of them by not fighting the way Nines made him feel.

And nothing had ever made him feel this way. The kind of unconditional devotion and adoration that seemed unique to them, as well as the simple comfort of being together. 

He owed Nines everything. The least he could do was offer some modicum of the same security. Especially now, when he seemed so vulnerable. 

"You know your skin deactivates every time you go into sleep mode, right?" 

The effort backfired horribly. 

If Nines hadn't already seemed willing to take up permanent residence in the bathroom, this declaration came close to cinching it. His eyes widened to near-comedic proportions, looking like they might careen from their sockets. "Excuse me?" 

Gavin, realising that this had decidedly not been the approach to take, acted quickly to rectify the mistake. "I'm kidding; I just thought it might make you feel better."

The android was seldom listening, making clear that the damage was done as he sidled closer to the bathroom. The exposed soles of his feet pressed against the linoleum, and Gavin's body howled, desperate for its overdue reunion with his porcelain throne.

"This is—just—I mean, you look—" 

"I am well aware of what I look like," Nines interjected. His already tense posture had grown increasingly stiff, as though his back was being supported by a cast iron rod, "and just how far this version of me must detract from your preferences."

The words struck hard—much more so than the previous blow. Any ensuing attempts at fumbled retorts were abandoned as he blinked, stunned into silence.

"The issue will be resolved, and once it has, you needn't concern yourself with my default appearance."

Wait. Hold up.

"Now, if you excuse me, I will wait in the bedroom."

Awareness unfolded, leaving him floored—thoroughly astonished at how Nines, the paragon of informed deduction, could have been so cataclysmically wrong when it sought to matter most. To be able to speak so matter-of-factly, with such a candid degree of confidence, about something that couldn't be further from the truth. 

His legs moved before his brain could catch up, placing him decisively into the path between his partner and their bedroom. 

"Don't you dare go storming off like you're some goddamn teenager," he hissed, in full awareness that his standing there wasn't actually stopping anyone. Nines could quite easily pick him up and fling him across the room like a frisbee, although he trusted him not to. 

"What else would you propose I do? Allow you to defecate in our kitchen because I refused to accommodate?" 

"You aren't even giving me time to think." The injustice of the situation was becoming more pronounced, flaring hot in Gavin's ribs. "You're just assuming the worst of me, acting like I'm gonna be a total dick about this." 

This proved enough to pierce through his partner's haze of contention. The sharpness in his eyes faded, giving way to a flicker of regret. His softened gaze then fell to the side, heavy with shame. "...That was not my intent. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." 

Clearly, it wasn't. The tension between them persisted despite the conclusion to their argument. It was suffocating, and Gavin couldn't help but notice how, despite making no further attempts to physically flee, his partner was still trying to hide. Sinking into himself, hands wrapped in a tense bind across his chest. 

"...Nines." The name was gentle, settled on a pensive purse at the end of his lips. "Let me see you. Please."

The android didn't respond immediately, hesitation evident in every microscopic shift of his frame. Eventually, his arms slackened and fell back, revealing the expanse of exposed white torso. While still unsure of the idea, demonstrated in his continued refusal to look up, it was clear Nines was extending some form of invitation—one that Gavin accepted.

He traced his fingers carefully up the stretch of the android's chest. It was not made of a singular uniform piece as he had previously assumed, but rather, a complex network of small, interwoven panels. Segmented into varied shades of white and grey, connected by subtle welds.

As he delicately tested the marks with the heel of his palm, he noted how remarkably smooth they felt, blending seamlessly with the rest of the body.

Not everything beneath the chassis was covered, with pockets of plastic so thin they were practically translucent. It revealed a dense network of wires—vibrant blues shifting through the synthetic circulatory system, pumped in steady flows of biofluid. 

The liquid originated from the centre of his ribs, beneath a protrusion in the sternum. Something that pressed to the surface—formed in a subtle ring. It pulsed gently, and the longer he looked, the more he was able to detect rhythmic glows of light.  

Gavin whistled low, noting how the pace of the component increased when he placed a hand across it. Blue bled through his fingers, illuminating the veins and tendons beneath his skin. It seemed so calm and balanced compared to the uneven tempo of his own raging pulse. 

"I didn't think you'd be able to see so much…" he mused, voice low with admiration. "It's fucking incredible. You know that, right?" 

"I am a machine," Nines said bitterly—the word of contention spat with disdain, like a curse. "A collection of polymers and circuitry, designed and constructed together to perform a practical function. There is nothing remarkable about it."

"What you just described is a dishwasher. This is not a dishwasher; this is—" He scoffed in self-deprecation, realising just how unequipped he was to describe the gravity of what he was seeing. In the absence of any poise or delicacy, the man opted for honesty. "You're like some crazy modern artwork, a goddamn masterpiece." 

"Stop lying to me."

"I'm not. You'd be able to tell if I was, right?"

Nines had nothing to say to that. His mouth jutted open, a tumultuous train of thought evident in the shifting glow of his LED before it wordlessly snapped shut. 

"Look, even if you weren't objectively the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life, it still wouldn't matter."

The android still refused to look at him, posture locked painfully tight, but as Gavin traced a delicate finger around his regulator access panel, there was a hint of a shudder. Bristling through his shoulders, as the tension held there started to wane.

"I know you don't wanna hear this—because it doesn't fit into your tortured soul narrative—and honestly, there's no way to say without it sounding like something out of a shitty romcom—"

He was stalling for time and not effectively. This sort of sentiment wasn't his strong suit. It didn't come naturally, which Nines was aware of. Still, if there was ever a time to be nauseatingly, cavity-inducingly sweet, this was it:

"Truth is, I love you, and that's got absolutely jack shit to do with what you look like. It's because of what's on the inside, or whatever."

"You love me for my thirium pump regulator?" 

The finger stalled in motion. 

Gavin looked up to discover Nines was facing him, a mischievous grin tugging his lips. He glowered despondently and made a hasty attempt to retract his arm. "Shut up, you know what I meant."

The limb didn't get far, as Nines captured it by the wrist, keeping it anchored to his chest. "I did," he assured, caressing the skin, marking trails of bone and ligament with the end of his thumb. 

Until the languid motions slowed as synthetic muscles seized. An aftershock of the previous state of anxiety. It was such a minor slip in control that anyone else would have unlikely noticed. Gavin knew better—keenly able to detect the change. 

"This really doesn't bother you?", the android asked, accentuating the question with increased pressure against his carpus. 

"Does it bother you that I have a mole on my chest the size of a quarter? Or that you can do a dot-to-dot with my stab wounds?"

"Of course not. Why would that matter?" 

"Exactly." The man huffed, punctuating the point with an affectionate prod to the android's temple. "Come on, you're the one with the supercomputer brain; just think about it for a second."

Whatever equanimity his partner was still clinging to unravelled in an instant. He looked genuinely overwhelmed, struck by a tidal wave of emotion which he could barely seek to contain. The breaks showed fast, leaking through in small hitches of crackling breath. 

"Gavin, I—" He stopped as though desperately seeking to regain some degree of composure. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't be a moron." He ushered him forward, capturing the hand still wrapped around his wrist. "Come here." 

The android did not resist the embrace, sinking into it, as he enclosed the man with powerful limbs. Cradling the back of his head, digits toying with tousled brown strands.

"Sap," Gavin teased, although he revelled in their proximity just as much. Indulging greedily as he peppered kisses across a tempting expanse of shoulder. "You don't need to hide yourself from me. Ever. I'm here for you—and nothing else."

The charged sounds grew louder, like the rumble of a car engine, sending vibrations through Nines' throat. This was before he cupped his partner's chin and allowed the sound to escape through tightly pressed lips. 

He moved with the sort of fervent passion that might suggest he was scared Gavin would disappear—but really, spoke more to the gratitude of knowing he wouldn't. It was only as he had fully breached the cavern of his mouth, and their hips were beginning to rock in sequence that the android finally pulled away. 

Gavin was left mesmerised—and a little dazed—by the unexpected boldness. It didn't matter how often Nines did this or what other shows of licentious spontaneity happened to follow; he couldn't foresee a time when it wouldn't knock him off his feet. 

How was he supposed to ground himself when he was perpetually flung into Cloud Nine, reminded of just how lucky he was? 

"...Besides." He chuckled richly, the sound rolling into the part of tenuously divided lips. "Bald really isn't a bad look on you. It's kind of hot." 

The man could practically hear the tight flourish of his partner's eyes before he graciously conceded to the attempt at flirting. "Oh, really? Is that so?"  

With a hum of affirmation, Gavin leaned down, forming a seal on the junction between the android's shoulder and neck. "You ever wanna…you know…with the dome out. I'm game."

"Perhaps another time." Nines then returned a hand to the back of his scalp. Burrowing into the hair before resting a cheek softly against his temple. "Right now, I would like it if we could stay like this."

Gavin dutifully complied, removing his lips in favour of nestling against the collarbone. He savoured the gentle rush of warmth that radiated beneath the chassis. It felt like home, and his eyes slid closed, entirely at peace.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me." 

[i-lost-my-last-blog]

I have taken it upon myself to judge all the ace attorneys and legal professionals ( and then some !) in terms of how they would be as a partner . 1 sentence explanations only

(Warning this is stupid and long also play ghost trick )

legal disclaimer this is a joke

Blaze Debeste - The fact that the prevailing fan theory is that he murdered his wife is probably not a good sign

Kristoph Gavin- He WOULD gaslight you people stop simping , that man is a MENACE

Sebastian Debeste- That is a teenage boy

Godot- He would make you do all the fucking work and then be so condecending too don't even lie

Simon Blackquill- Simon would not want to be in a relationship with you tbh and who are you to force him

Miles Edgeworth - He is already a taken man

The Judge - That man is too senile but he seems like a loving grandpa :(

Fransiska Von Karma- unreasolved anger issues do not bode well but if nothing else she is devoted , cute lesbians may have a chance

Nayuta Sahdmandhi- Not a single day of peace without him arguing with you in circles I fear

Phoenix Wright -Phoenix has two hands and they were already taken years ago

Apollo Justice - If I had a lame ass boyfriend-

Klavier Gavin - Probably a good boyfriend but his fanbase gives me possessive kpop fandom vibes

Athena Cykes - Asks hella intrusive questions but generally supportive??

Mia Fey - Woman sexy AND nice ?

Callisto Yue - If you are into bullying and humiliation she would provide plenty

Robin Newman - Probably needs to figure out the disphoria situation first but if loudness doesn't bother you the deal doesn't seem bad

Aristotle Means - Take it from me you don't want to date a Greek statue much less if his slogan tries to justify murder

Manfred Von Karma - Canonically a wife guy???

Raymond Shields - He is giving cringy dad energy but I just KNOW he gets petty as hell during fights

Phoenix Wrong (Furio Tigre) - He does not love you don't fall for it he just wants the insurance

Judge Courtney - She is OUT of your league

Robert Hammond - There is no way you would find him alive to romance , there is LITERAL cosmic intervention

Professor Courte- Apparently the only sane person in that entire academy so points to her I guess

Dhurke Sahdmandhi - Also canonically a wife guy but becoming his automatically makes you an enemy of the state AND a tragic widow

Hugh O'Connor - Do you count his lying about his age as catfishing ?

The Kurain Judge - ??? I don't think a single person thought of him when the prompt was datable ace attorney characters and I'm already reaching with half of these people

Lana Skye - She loves you but goddamn is she good at making you think otherwise

Juniper Woods - Sweet girl , precious girl would make a great girlfriend if you can handle eating only organic foods

Gregory Edgeworth - Husband and father shaped

Queen Ga'ran - Not only is she a dictator but also a spouse killer

Byrne Faraday- He is not cheating on you he is just out doing his vigilante shit

Winston Payne - He says he is a wife guy , we don't know if she has settled

Gaspen Payne - Professional hater

Ryunosuke Naruhodou - If I had a lame ass boyfriend- pt2

Kazuma Asogi - He would love you but the ghosts of his past cling to him still can you handle that?

Barok Van Zieks - Polite and protective but your political views cannot be progressive

Mael Strongheart - He would feed you to a dog if it came down to it

Auchi Taketsuchi - Probably not the worst husband but he is a conservative in a conservative country in the 1800s so…

Ryutaru Naruhodou - That is a teenager pt2 No relations to Susato Mikotoba

Klint Van Zieks - Husband and father material but his dog is dripping human blood

Judge Jigoku - Yes he is a silver fox but he is also mafia coded

Judge Santa Claus - Is probably already in a committed relationship at the North Pole

Bonus :

Dick Gumshoe : Already taken but either way it's already been established that Gumshoe is peak male performance I'm sorry

Ema Skye - food and forensic prints sharing as a love language <3

Shi Long Lang - look you HAVE to accept that you are getting initiated in a wolf pack of 100 men , yes they are all commited to the bit , no it's non negotiable so if that's not a deal breaker then …. by all means live your omegaverse fantasy

Tyrell Badd - if manpain needed a textbook definition

Bobby Fulbright ( prime ) - I'd describe him as if a golden retriever was prone to moral panic and constant lectures on exaggerated moral superiority and justice

Bobby Fulbright ( lite) - He WILL kill you and steal your identity maybe you don't believe me but it's not my problem if you get replaced

Tobias Gregson - If you are fine losing a husband to heart disease in his early 50s then maybe

Herlock Sholmes - Unless you have nerves and patience of steel it's recommended that you stay as far away from that man as possible for your own sanity and safety, he is hazardous and yes it is contageous

Genshin Asogi - Honestly if I were Mrs Asogi I too would fall gravely ill if I lost such a chad, and she had him in the bag too fully devoted

Lynne Ghost Trick - Needs a partner as well as a babysitter as she does appear prone to stumbling onto life threatening situations

Jowd Ghost Trick - if manpain was a word pt2 but he is actually worst

Cabanella Ghost Trick - Tee hees too close to the sun and is kind of a bitch sometimes but at least you can leave him alone without him having either died or sacrificed himself within the span of 2 minutes

[whump-tr0pes]

Relief

Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for being so generous in letting me put their boy Morja in Situations, and many apologies to them as well for holding onto this story for so many months while waiting for me to finish it.

My masterlist

Morja is a diathésimos, one of a class of indentured servants owned by society’s elite - though some would call them slaves. He has been tasked with a mission of critical importance by his anóteros: to infiltrate a dangerous family that has taken refuge in the north, and kill the criminal that they are harboring: Gavin Stormbeck.

“It is your part to kill me, mine to die without flinching.”

— Epictetus, from Discourses (Translated by Robert Dobbin)

Your Part to Kill | My Part to Die | To Die Quietly | Despair | Dawn | Breakfast Part 1 | Breakfast Part 2 | To Die Without Flinching

Contents: nightmare, [captivity, beating, gaslighting, forced to hurt someone, torture, flaying, so much blood, begging, death] all in a nightmare, collared whumpee, conditioned whumpee, past murder, PTSD, emeto, comfort, flashbacks, permanent injury, chronic pain, misunderstanding whump, recovery

~

Morja instantly knew where he was; the peeling paint on the walls, the barred door, and the cold blue lights overhead told him everywhere he needed to know. He was back in his cell room, back in Crayton. He was back where he belonged. 

There was an addition to the room, and the room seemed to have grown to accommodate it: a large metal table with leather cuffs at the top and bottom. Morja shuddered as he looked at it. He knew exactly what it was for. He had been on one himself, more than once. He wondered if his anóteros meant for him to climb onto it. 

Before the lack of answer could worry him, there was a sound behind him. Boots. A voice. 

“Hello, my diathésimos,” his owner benefactor said. A steady hand slid up the back of his neck, over his collar, and knotted in his hair. He dropped to his knees in an instant.

“Anóteros,” he said, his lips trembling. His hands settled in his lap and he tilted his head back, baring his throat. He was where he belonged at last - but his eyes burned, and his mouth was dry. He couldn’t explain it. He belonged at his anóteros’ feet, did he not? He had never known another home than this. 

No, there was another place, where he had a bed, not a cot - where there were no bars on the door, and there were windows that opened to the outside–

A blow snapped his head to the side. He accepted it without a gasp. His right ear rang. 

“Where did you just go, Morja?” the mayor said, his voice low and smooth. Morja knew better, though - he could hear the threat beneath the words. 

He answered honestly. He must always be honest.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and waited for the correction. 

Another blow whipped across his face, splitting his lip. Blood began to trickle down his chin. It itched. He did not lift his hand to wipe it. When it dripped on his wrists, then the floor, he knew he would need to clean it after this. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever been anywhere but this,” his anóteros said conversationally. “Other than when you are serving me on my missions, of course.”

An image flashed behind Morja’s closed eyes: a breakfast table, laden with eggs, bacon, toast. 

“Yes, anóteros,” he breathed. 

“Open your eyes, Morja,” the mayor said.

Morja obeyed.

He barely caught his gasp when he realized there was someone lying on the table now: Sam, the youngest of the family that was harboring Gavin Uriah Stormbeck. He remembered where that room was now: in that family’s house. 

Their wrists and ankles were strapped down to the table. With the table at eye level, he could see how tightly the restraints were buckled, the leather digging into their flesh. They trembled and stared back at him in terror, their mouth open but silent.

Morja’s owner benefactor drew the knife from his belt and held it out in front of Morja’s face. Morja held perfectly still, prepared for the knife to carve into his own cheek - but the knife hovered there, the blade between him and Sam. He could see himself reflected in the wickedly sharp steel.

“This one was captured harboring Gavin Stormbeck,” the mayor said coldly. “It is your job to punish them for this crime.” 

Morja’s throat tightened as he swallowed. His hands shook and he forced him to be still against his thighs. “Punish them… sir?” he croaked.

“Yes,” his anóteros said. “Gavin Stormbeck is a scourge upon this world, and they have actively worked to prolong his reign of terror. There must be punishment for this. You will deliver it.” The mayor flipped the knife so he was holding the blade, gesturing with the grip toward Sam. “Now, diathésimos,” he hissed.

Morja’s legs shook under him as he pushed himself to his feet. Sam met his eyes, and their eyes went wider as Morja took the knife from the mayor. His anóteros stepped behind him as he moved forward, as if in a trance, until his legs pressed against the table. The knife trembled in his grip.

He forced his mind to go cold and blank - like it so often did before the kill - as he brought the knife to Sam Vasterling’s sleeve. He made quick work of slashing it away from their arm until it was bare, the thin muscles rippling and tugging beneath the skin as they struggled to free themself. Then, as he blew out a slow breath through his lips, he brought the knife to their forearm. 

“Morja, please,” Sam begged.

The knife froze over Sam’s skin. Morja met their eyes. They looked so frightened, so young, strapped down to the table and pleading for their life. 

But Morja had killed younger people than them. And he had never spared anyone just because they begged him to. He forced down the bile that clawed up his throat, and slid the knife into Sam’s forearm down to the muscle. 

Sam screamed. They made no effort to bite it back. Tears welled in their eyes and streamed back over their temples. Morja carved into their arm again, staying within the first few layers of skin, fat, and muscle - avoiding the arteries. He could see the play of their muscles in the gash as they fought the restraints. Again, he cut, and veins stood out in their neck as they screamed.

He had seen his anóteros hurt people like this. He knew, now, how very effective it was. 

After he had sliced their arm to ribbons, he cut away the rest of their shirt. He avoided touching their skin as much as he could, as if one touch would burn him. They looked at him, trying to meet his eyes, desperate, writhing against the leather cuffs. He looked away. 

“Please, no, no, no!” Sam shrieked as Morja sliced through the thin skin over their breastbone. They shuddered and writhed, tears streaming, wrists twisting in the restraints. Morja’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. His hands shook as he gripped the knife. He cut again, and again, and again. Blood pooled in the hollows of Sam’s body. It rolled down their sides and onto the table, then dripped onto the floor. The entire room smelled thick with blood. 

And behind him, his anóteros stood silent as a sentinel. He chewed his lip and continued cutting Sam to pieces. They screamed and sobbed. The handle of the knife was slippery with sweat. 

“Isaac!” Sam screamed, finally squeezing their eyes shut and turning their face away from Morja. “Isaac, h-help me!”

Morja shuddered. The knife froze above Sam, dripping blood onto their skin. 

Sam whimpered and cringed away from Morja. “I-Isaac,” they sobbed. “Please…”

“Continue,” Morja’s anóteros hissed from behind him. A chill feathered down Morja’s spine as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

His hand tightened around the knife. The smell of blood was making him sick. Sam was barely more than a child, and Morja felt - he felt, he knew - they had nothing to do with the evil his owner benefactor was claiming. But if he could make them scream loud enough that Isaac heard them…

If Isaac Moore came, he could force Morja to stop this.

He brought the knife to patch of unbroken skin over Sam’s stomach and dug the blade in. Sam screamed anew. 

He fileted them open, carving into them with a cruelty he had only seen his anóteros reserve for the most depraved traitors of the North. He flayed them alive until his hands were soaked with their blood. They screamed and screamed until their voice went raw and began to fade. Still, he cut. Still, he carved. He slipped on the blood pooling on the floor. Everything was red. He was drowning in it. And still, Isaac Moore did not come and rip the knife from his hands, strike him down, shoot him dead. 

Still, he carved. 

Sam Vasterling screamed. 

“Keep going, diathésimos,” the mayor said. “Remember, this is the fate that awaits all who harbor traitors to the North. They are guilty. They deserve this.”

The small body on the table juddered and bled and screamed. They barely looked human anymore. Still, they did not die. More blood had come out of them than Morja had ever seen in his life. Still they did not die. They only screamed and bled. 

Morja’s shirt was soaked with sweat. He stared down into Sam’s chest, at their beating heart. He had carved away everything else. Still, they lived, and cried, and bled. 

“Isaac,” they rasped. “Isaac, please…”

Bile seared the back of his throat. 

They raised their eyes to his. Their eyes were bloodshot, red from crying, but they were brown, he noticed. They looked so frightened. “Morja,” they breathed. “Help me.”

Morja stared back at them for an eternal moment. Tears streamed from their eyes. 

He raised the knife and plunged it into their exposed heart. They shuddered once, then their head fell back. Their eyes were blank, their mouth open. They were - finally, mercifully - dead.

Morja braced for the correction.

His anóteros said nothing for a breath. Then, the mayor said, “No matter. You still have the rest of that family to get through.”

Morja opened his eyes. 

His room was pitch black, and the sheets on his bed were soaked through with cold sweat. He could still smell blood thick in his nostrils. 

He staggered out of bed and fumbled for the doorknob. When he found it, he wrenched the door open and dashed down the dimly-lit hall and into the kitchen. He threw open the sliding door to the backyard and made it a few shaky steps before he fell to his hands and knees, retching into the grass. When he was done, he slumped over and sobbed weakly. 

He still felt the youngest one’s blood on his hands, tacky and warm. He still smelled it. He still heard their screams. He still felt his anóteros’ hand on the back of his neck. 

“Morja?” a small voice called out behind him.

He gasped and spun around. Sam Vasterling stood in the sliding door, silhouetted by the light in the kitchen. The golden light illuminated their curls like a halo. They took a halting step out of the house. Their hand was extended towards him. “Are… you alright?”

Morja blinked. In the fraction of a second that his eyes were closed, he saw them - bound to the table, coated in blood, flayed and screaming and begging for mercy. His stomach heaved again. He bowed his head in shame and horror. 

Sam drew closer. They were so young, but they showed no fear as they went to their knees and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Morja wasn’t sure if they didn’t know that he could break their neck with just his hands, could drag them inside and cut their throat with a kitchen knife… or if they knew, and chose to master the fear. He trembled, but held still as their hand rubbed up and down on his arm. The touch was gentle, so unlike–

He flinched at the memory - it was just a dream, but he had so many real memories of it, too - of his anóteros’ hand whipping across his face. Sam’s hand paused on his shoulder. “Is this… is it okay that I’m doing this?” they whispered.

A chasm opened inside Morja’s chest. His face crumpled and he began to weep. 

He leaned against Sam, bending his head so low that it rested in their lap. Their hand rested on his shoulder again. He reached out, his own hand shaking badly, and covered their hand with his own. His broad hand swallowed theirs. 

“Shhh,” Sam soothed. “I’m sorry, was it… a nightmare?”

Morja shuddered with shame. He pressed his head against their knee and nodded. 

Sam pushed out a slow breath. “Gotcha. I… I get them too, sometimes.” 

Morja blinked and tightened his hand over theirs. The thought of them waking, cold and shuddering, from a nightmare, made his chest ache. He rolled his shoulder to ease the old twinge there. 

“I get them less now,” Sam said, stroking their thumb along his arm. “But they still happen from time to time. About… our time in Colleen Stormbeck’s house. I… I get a lot of nightmares about getting shot.”

Morja’s eyes went wide, and he sat up. His eyes darted over Sam, looking for a scar - and his eyes finally settled on their right hand, the one they always held curled against their stomach. 

Sam followed their gaze and nodded. “Yeah,” they murmured. “It was a few years ago now. I was shot by a Stormbeck guard as we were escaping Colleen.” They smiled. “Finn saved my life.”

“Does it hurt?” Morja asked, before he could stop himself. He looked at his hands and bowed his head for his impertinence. 

Sam didn’t deliver a correction, though; they said, “Sometimes. Well… pretty often, yeah. It twinges. Sometimes I need to wear a sling.” They shrugged. “But it’s gotten better as time has gone on.”

Morja’s own shoulder twinged again, and he rolled it in its socket. 

Sam inclined their head. “You hurt, too?”

Morja’s mouth went dry. “I… no. Nothing so bad as… no.”

Sam looked at him for a long time. Then they said, “Gray says comparing things doesn’t do anyone any good.” They glanced out into the night. 

Morja stared down at his hands. His mind churned as he tried to decipher the meaning in Sam’s words. Slowly, he said, “My… shoulder. It hurts. Often.” He pointed to it stiffly.

“Don’t complain, diathésimos, or I will teach you the true meaning of pain. Back up on your knees, or I’ll string you up by your collar. Five more lashes for your impertinence.”

He shuddered and waited for the correction, or the promise of one. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah,” they said. They looked toward the house. “I’ll be right back.” They pushed themself to their feet and made their way inside to fetch a cane, or perhaps a whip, to punish Morja for the complaint.

His head dipped low and his stomach churned with guilt and shame - and a flash of something else, something he could not allow himself to name. Something that felt dangerous to feel. Something that rankled for having been guided right into that trap. 

Still, he should have known better. He had a lifetime of pain, telling him that he should have known better. His hands curled into fists as he waited for Sam to return. When he heard their footsteps at the back door, and then the swoosh of their feet through the grass, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together. He must be silent when accepting this correction. He must not wake anyone in the sleeping house with a gasp or a cry. 

He had earned Sam’s disgust with his weakness. He must not make a sound, now. 

Sam went to their knees beside him, and he held perfectly still - save for his hands, which he slid together, palm to palm, so they could tie him. 

“Here,” they said softly. 

He held back a whimper. Perhaps they had not returned with a cane at all, but something worse - like a knife. He forced his eyes open. Their hand was moving toward his shoulder - the bad one. He froze. He braced. 

Something warm pressed against the knot that always lived in the flesh there. He flinched and uttered a shocked sound. 

“Sorry,” Sam muttered. “Is it too hot still?”

Morja turned his eyes to theirs. Their eyebrows were tugged together, holding something out to him - a warm compress. They had another one, balanced on their injured hand. “Here,” they said, holding one out to him. “The heat… it helps, sometimes. With me. Maybe it might with you, too.”

Morja stared at the compress with wide eyes. Sam held it a little higher, and he finally took it. Heat soaked into his finger tips. Sam took their own compress in their good hand and pressed it to their injured arm, over their bicep. They took a deep, shivering breath and let their eyes fall shut. 

Morja’s back ached in thwarted anticipation of the cane. He glanced at the compress in his hand, then back to Sam; their face wasn’t twisted in disgust - not at him, nor at anything else that he could see. They were smiling lightly. And they were using the compress. Haltingly, hesitantly, he pressed it to his own shoulder like Sam had done for him. 

Heat bloomed in the knotted muscles and he let out a trapped breath. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He slumped a little to the side - a little closer to Sam. They opened their eyes and smiled at him. 

“Nice, huh?” they said. 

Morja’s throat tightened. His head hung low. A dry sob shivered in his chest. 

Sam raised their curled hand and rested it on his shoulder. They slid it across his back, over the healed scars. Morja’s head dipped lower, lower still, until he was folded in half over his knees. He cried softly as Sam rubbed his back, not saying anything at all. 

Continued here

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