#everyone he grows close to and cares for either leave or forget him in some way

[lazycats-stuff]

What about Batfam x male reader where the reader was actually the first child Bruce adopted and he was the practice child. He hated growing io because Bruce had really no idea what to do and then the other kids came along and now Bruce kinda understood what to do. He hates family time because he never felt like family, he was just some doll the others could practice on so later they wouldn't make mistakes. And i imagine at some point they snap. I feel like what if Damian brought over Jon for dinner and Jon was like "oh I thought Dick's the oldest, you never told me about (reader)" and reader just slams down their fist and goes to their room. At this point the rest of the family try to comfort them but the reader only screams about how they never were a son or bother, they were only a practice doll for them to use and then throw away

This has angst written all over it... Ah. Angst train it seems... Also, I think I changed the end a bit, but that's fine...

Summary: (Y/N) was nothing but a test child for Bruce. He finally lets them have it

Warnings: angst, resentment, author sucks at angst, but hey, I tried, yelling, mentions of anxiety, the fam is trying, (Y/N) is mad beyond belief, implications of child neglect... If you can call it child neglect.

(Y/N) (L/N) was the oldest member of the Wayne family and the first child that Bruce had adopted. (Y/N) didn't have a good life at all before he met Bruce. (Y/N) could also argue that Bruce didn't treat him well as well, since being emotionally unavailable is not a good trait to have when you have children.

As the years went by, he hated growing up in the manor and with Bruce. He had food, a roof over his head and some sort of education. But that wasn't enough. The feeling of resentment that (Y/N) had has only grown as the years went by.

The feeling of being a test to Bruce, to see what he need to improve made his blood boil. He was a test pancake for Bruce and some sort of feedback to Bruce. It made (Y/N) mad beyond. Bruce could have gotten his shit straight when he started to have him as his legal child.

(Y/N) wished that he could forget everything about Bruce. About the family too. Even before Dick came, resentment building up in him nearly exploded. Looking back, he should have exploded on Bruce and Dick... Maybe even punch them. Maybe he should have done it.

When Dick came, (Y/N) saw signs that Bruce was improving, but he didn't show that to (Y/N). Years went by and Damian came. To say that Damian pretended that (Y/N) didn't exist is an understatement. (Y/N) tried to get closer to Damian, but Damian always pushed him away. (Y/N) took the signs and gave up, sadness and anger boiling inside of him. But he did observe Damian and Dick. In matter of a few days, they were close.

Dick did it without even trying.

So, (Y/N) has decided to alienate himself from the family, at least until he gets enough money to leave. Thankfully, the resentment towards Bruce and the rest of the family made him even put everything he had in school, even though no one cared about it. He had straight As and he was on his way to go to college that was far away from here. He knows that he can do it.

Even as Tim and Jason came, (Y/N) tried to be close to them, but none of them cared. None. (Y/N)'s solace became his own room and would avoid the family at all costs until it was time to eat where he had to step out. That only solidified the fact that he was going to leave as soon as possible.

Either way, he just had to alienate himself and move out. Then, everyone in the house would be happy.

However, everything would turn on its head when Damian would bring his boyfriend Jon over to meet the family and by default (Y/N). If only (Y/N) knew what would happen.

Dinner rolled around and came down to eat. He didn't expect to see Jon, but was nice to introduce himself to Jon, trying to be nice and just get this stupid dinner over with. He put some food on his plate and just ate in silence while everyone else talked.

He listened to bits and pieces and just stayed silent. He finished his plate quickly and pushed it away and sipped at his water, just being polite and getting ready to leave back at his room.

" Damian, you didn't tell me anything about (Y/N)... I thought that Dick was oldest of the brothers. " Jon said and (Y/N) froze.

Damian didn't tell Jon about him...

(Y/N)'s anger boiled over and he slammed his fist into the table before standing up quickly, knocking the chair over. Everyone got startled at the actions and watched in silence as (Y/N) left the dining room.

After a few seconds they all jumped into action, trying to stop (Y/N) to comfort him. (Y/N) slammed the door of his room shut, locking to make sure no one could enter, before he broke down on his bed. He hugged his pillow and sobbed into it.

It shouldn't hurt like this. He should have been stronger than this. Not cry over them.

" (Y/N), please open the door. " Bruce said through the door.

" Please, we just want to talk. " Dick added and (Y/N) snapped at that, anger boiling over once again.

" Talk?! TALK?! Stop acting like you care! " (Y/N) yelled at the top of his lungs.

" We do care. " Jason started.

" You don't give a single flying damn about me! I was never a son or a brother to anyone! I was only a test toy to Bruce so he could see what he could fucking improve! I was never a fucking brother either! Damian fucking proved it! " (Y/N) yelled at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his face.

Everyone stayed silent and (Y/N) sobbed his heart out. Damian swallowed hardly, realizing what he did and how that hurt (Y/N) deeply. Maybe he shouldn't have...

Everyone glanced at each other. They stayed silent as they listened to (Y/N)'s sobs. Just how much pain did they brought up onto him?

" (Y/N), look- " Bruce started and (Y/N) screamed again.

" Don't you dare care right now! I'm moving out in a few days anyway and I don't need your pity or apology! " (Y/N) yelled, trying to wipe the never ending stream of tears.

" Moving out?! " Bruce yelled, eyes wide in shock. He know he has no right to tell (Y/N) what to do, but something flared up in Bruce. " No, you're not moving out! You are going to stay put because we have to solve this problem! "

" Are you shitting me Bruce?! Work things out?! "

" I'm not shitting you! I have to make things right with you! You are my son too! " Bruce yelled through the door.

" I don't give a single damn about any of you! "

Bruce took a deep breath, trying not to explode. He knows he has no right to be angry, but (Y/N) was still his son. " (Y/N), I am your dad and we will solve this problem. "

" We won't solves shit Bruce! "

" (Y/N), please, " Tim started, but (Y/N) cut him off. " Shut up Tim! "

Tim bit the inside of his cheek and stepped back.

" (Y/N), " Jason started, " You need to calm down, you'll give yourself a heart attack. "

(Y/N) wanted to scream even more, but he felt like he was going to die from this situation.

" Shut up, all of you! "

Now Dick started. " (Y/N), we may have been bad brothers- "

" May have?! You were- No, you are the worst brothers! " (Y/N) yelled and clenched his fists as he started facing around the room.

Dick sighed and stepped back. At the moment, everyone knew that (Y/N) talking to them without yelling at them and more importantly, he needed to calm down first.

But with how much anger and resentment there is, it is going to take a while.

" Lets leave (Y/N) alone for a while. He needs to be alone for now. " Bruce said and gently moved everyone away from (Y/N)'s doors, who was inside, trying to breathe more normally. He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin in the next few moments. He calmed down after a while, but he was still anxious beyond belief.

Unfortunately, the threat of moving out is just a threat and not a promise. (Y/N) sighed as he sat down on his bed. It was a stupid move to say that while he didn't have everything secure yet. Stupid.

(Y/N) went to the bathroom and washed his face and drank some water, to soothe his soon to be sore throat. It won't be nice to talk in a few hours.

Either way, it's better than leaving this room in order to face his siblings and dad. No, they are just roommates here, until (Y/N) can move out and just finally cut them out of his life.

[jaeedraszaerysz]

JON SNOW ☆ DATING HCS

SFW 💕💕

It would probably take him a while to trust you if you hadn't known him very long.

If you grew up with or close to the Starks he tried to befriend you before Robb did

He would always be scared that he would steal your heart away

You would spend hours mocking the men and women of the courts

When Robert Baratheon came to visit you both sat outside taking the piss out of all the Lords and ladies and any twat who dared speak low of either of you.

Tyrion Lannister defos assumed u were a couple and when you told him otherwise, he just shook his head.

Catelyn would probably despise you for being so close to him.

Ned would love you though, thanking the gods silently that the boy had someone by his side.

He would probably have kissed you before he left for the nights watch and spent his nights wondering whether leaving you was worth it all.

When you eventually found your way back to him it was rather chaotic.

You were probably interrogated by tormund on arrival

Atleast until Jon saw you, never forgetting your face.

You probably punched him square in the face and then proceeded to have a huge, westeros equivalent of Oscar worthy, makeput session infront of everyone.

Ghost, when not growling at random twats, would act like a second protector when Jon wasn't by your side.

Arya either loves you or hates you

Sansa is, just like her father was, happy Jon has someone.

Bran doesn't care. He's too busy wheeling around doing seven eyes Sparrow shit or whatever he called it.

You and Davos defos spend ages tryna talk some sense into him.

He always seems to be holding you in some way

Whether it be your arm, hand, waist. He would probably play with your hands or you hair often.

Is always bloody staring

Like never stops

His eyes are for you and only you

Takes. You. Everywhere.

Like no debates. He goes, you follow. Or vice versa.

He took you with him to meet with ramsay and if he made any comment whatsoever it was straight up a routine by now.

Death stare, holds onto you twelve times tighter, kills the offender within 24 hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him because he's happy you feel safe with him.

Head kisses.

Need I say more?

Everywhere anytime.

Head. Fucking. Kisses.

Walking past. Head kiss.

Sat next to him at dinner. Head kiss.

In an extremely serious situation requiring your full attention. Head kiss.

Dying. Head kiss.

It's like his fucking bread and butter.

When you first met daenerys it was bad vibes.

Like very bad.

No clue why she just doesn't sit right with you.

Either grows to love you or ends up hating you with a passion.

No in-between.

He dreams of having a normal life.

He would want three kids, two boys and girl so they could protect their sister.

Maybe another direwolf or four. One for each and one for you.

Can't sleep when you aren't next to him.

Teaches you to sword fight extremely early on in your relationship.

If you were ill or pregnant he would never leave your side.

Never ever ever never.

He's convinced that you could have a hundred children and you would still be the person he loves most in the world.

Would do anything for you.

Minors DNI below this line.

NSFW ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (implied female reader)

Worships you like no one else

Touching you always.

Passes it off for his hand on your back but in reality he's secretly caressing your ass, or will have his arms under your cloak, passing it off as a hug, and will gently squeeze your boobs.

Neck kisses.

His favourite thing in the world.

Loves to leave marks on you wherever he can.

Has definitely kissed every inch of your body

Gives no fucks about scars or hair or anything of the sort.

Boobs.

Lives laughs loves your boobs.

Will lay with his face buried in them at any time.

Minor inconvenience? Someone was being a twat? He's tired?

Boob pillow.

Will eat you out for hours.

Insatiable.

You have any problems at all? Sit on his face.

If he's had a bad day he will legit just stuff his face between your thighs.

His fave place.

Says that if you suffocated him it would be an amazing way to go.

Probably prefers giving but he will never say no to receiving.

His dick is probs like 6-7 inches.

Takes tormunds advice very seriously.

Loves to see how many fingers you can take before he stuffs you.

Will go for as many rounds as you need.

Always a gentleman, making sure your comfortable and that your satisfied.

Cockwarming he loves.

Cuddles afterwards.

He will slide out of you and pull you onto on him, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his body around yours.

Calls you love but with his gorgeous deep voice.

Has a sexy asf morning voice.

He's so whipped for you he can't function somedays.

[doodlenoodleboi]

Hello! I have a request for Sal Fisher! Can you please write something about him with a reader who suffers from anxiety and that leads to her eating a bit faster than other people? She feels really embarrased when someone points it out. Comments like "Are you done already?" get to her, but she doesn't say anything and instead ducks her head because she is too shy and non-confrontational to stand up for herself. Thank you! <3

Sal Drabble

The vibe

Sal

It was a high school summer, these summers you could choose to either be a kid again or grow as an adult. We have a difficult time choosing these things. Why must we choose things that we don’t want to why not just live the moment?

“Hey! Hey! Bro, wake up!” I was Welcomed by the faces of my two best friends Sal and Larry, a rather interesting duo. The night before or rather shall I say a couple hours ago we had a sleepover at Larry’s house. I was tired and confused by the sudden disruption of my sleep.

“What?” I said, practically still asleep, rubbing my eyes from the crusty buildup of rheum.

“We’re leaving!” Sal said his smile evident in his voice, even though his prosthetic covered his face. I had never been out at night, especially with these two friends. Apparently it was a common thing amongst Larry and Sal. Sal even took off his prosthetic couple times. Nobody could see you in these dark streets, nobody was there to breathe in the air instead of that suffocating mask as Sal described.

Funny enough, Sal might dislike his appearance but the only thing that he truly appreciates about it, it is how it finds him real friends. Ones that couldn’t care less about his appearance. Those ones still tight, so now we’re strolling late at night down these streets I can’t remember. Soon I’ll never see the streets and will have to go away we have to be independent adults. Maybe even barely seeing each other and that sucked, just even the thought.”

The cold air braised everyone’s skin, obviously cool, but nothing close to freezing. Sal’s shoulder, blue hair covered his face for the most part. The way his face had been obscured as a child scared the creeps away but kept his friends closer. The way his right cheek torn reminded me of Mileena (MK reference).

The walk down the cold streets were quiet the only interruption being Larry every so often comments. And the sound of Sal’s skateboard against the road, streetlight and moonlight being to be only source of illumination.

I simply followed, along like a lost puppy going along with the flow, not wanting to ruin the vibe. It was uncomfortably quiet until Larry made his extroverted comment about being hungry. We stopped at a (insert place), probably close to our destination.

Larry ordered for everyone being the extrovert, he is of the group. Then we left, soon we made it to our destination. An abandoned skate park, right next to it was a building covered in graffiti. It was a comforting vibe about the place, because even if it was abandoned, I’m sure many people have still came here even though such information had been given.

I sat on the top of the Quarterpipe, a rather vacant area until Larry decides to sit next to me. I wasn’t fond of eating in front of people, maybe feel uncomfortable and watched. They could have absolutely no interest in me, but for some reason, I feel like all eyes on me. I am the best person in the world because I could be the absolute worst. I’m scared of people’s perception of me.

I started to eat next to Larry not wanting to confess that I am uncomfortable with the situation. I had been made fun of in the past because of my eating habits. As I ate my food, almost finished with it, Larry responded. (damn little lady you sure can pack it away. Jk) “Yo Bruh you look like Kirby right now, fucking that shit up.” in between the time of now and then, Larry was high, and that truly made me laugh forgetting about the previous situation given his state.

“Shut up Larry.” sal had said as he skated over to him. “He’s probably just high don’t mind him.” For a while, I would be dealing with a high Larry and a Sally who couldn’t care to do more than skate to get his mind off everything.

That night she realized she was surrounded by people. She wouldn’t have to worry about being embarrassed around. After all, they all are flawed.

(I am so sorry this was so rushed and so last-minute)

[reticent-writer]

Hello hello! Your writing has dragged me back into Demon Slayer(/vpos) and I got an idea, if you’re up for it! (This might be rambley so bare with me please)

What about (character(s) of your choice) with a music lover s/o or friend who gets turned into a siren-like demon? Physically speaking, maybe their skin becomes scales and they grow some fins here and there. And while they’re still mentally present enough to be themselves rather than a mindless cryptid, perhaps they become spacey, a bit more jumpy, and find a lot of solace near water/with music. How would your characters of choice handle these changes? Especially if s/o refuses to drink blood(or at least sources it like Tamayo does) and wants to fight by their side? (Maybe their Blood Art has something to do with their voice, like a Siren’s luring voice or a Banshee scream!)

I hope that’s not too much detail, feel free to leave out/add anything and have a wonderful day/night! Thank you!!

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ thank you for requesting, don't worry I love a lot of details.

sorry for the wait

I viewed most of these as platonic but it can go either way

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

If there is anything that you need Tanjiro gotchu. If you do drink blood he'll offer his if you don't that's even better. Out of everyone here he notices the changes in your personality the most. He notices your likes and dislikes and changes what he does to accommodate you.

"Y/n? you alright?" Tanjiro taps your shoulder to which you jump and turn around. Seeing that it was just him and nezuko you smile.

"Yeah why wouldn't I be?"

"We're on a mission and you were spacing out again." He sweatdropped as you took in your surroundings. It was the middle of the night, in a forest.

"Oh I'm sorry." You flush, "Did you kill the demon. I'm so sorry-"

"No no it's fine... it's just that I kinda broke my leg and I'm bleeding internally."

"OH MY GOD."

-------

One minute you're both talking then the next Muichirou forgets what you were talking about and you are spacing out. When he gets his memories back the first thing he remembers about you is your voice. You never tried to eat him so why should he care if you are a demon or not.

After the battle in the swordsman village, Muichirou was transported to the butterfly mansion.

"MUI-"

"Y/n don't shout this is an infirmary." Aoi scolded and you replied with a meek sorry.

the moment the two of you made eye contact, his eyes lit up. His best friend was waiting for him and he could clearly remember everything about anything.

You waited for Aoi to finish setting Muichirou in a room before you sat at his side and talked to him.

"Y/n can you sing the song that you're always humming."

-------

Rengoku believes that if nezuko can be a non-human-eating demon then there is a chance for you to be one too. Once he knows you're harmless he brings you around senjuro.

You were a former demon slayer and or close friend(or S/o) to the flame hashira, Your families were close.

"Senjuro you remember Y/n, don't you?"

"Oh no did something happen to them."

"Well not exactly she um-" cue you (who was standing in the shadows of the Rengoku estate) stepping out into the sunlight and getting burnt.

You gave Senjuro a heart attack when he saw you.

-------

Genya doesn't know how to react. It takes him days to figure out how to deal with literally everything. Man is walking on eggshells around you.

He literally just stares at you.

"Um genya... your creeping me out."

In the blink of an eye he snaps out of it and his face goes red.

-------

mitsuri finds you absolutely adorable, she's glad that you didn't turn into a full demon. Obanai on the other hand is very skeptical.

"Obanai look it Y/n." Mitsuri enthusiastically presented you to the less-than-happy man.

"Another demon seriously."

"Oh Obanai don't be so

-------

Tamao takes an interest in your changes. You being around is like a breathe of fresh air for her and Yushiro. Although Yushiro would never admit it.

"How are you feeling today Y/n." Tamao said as she offered you a cup of blood.

"I'm feeling fine thanks for asking.

"If you feel so fine would you mind getting back to work." Yushio butted in.

"Ah poor Yushiro having to cover for me for less than 2 days while I was out."

"Oh please you were only dying for a day you stayed down to be dramatic."

"Wow I-"

"Can both of you not argue please."

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

Merry Christmas to everyone. I hope this holiday season has been full of joy.

This is my FINAL post of 2023.

It has been a year of many surprises and has now ended.

I'm still accepting requests but I won't post until the New year because there is so much going on.

[merriclo]

WOAH this is such a cool interpretation!!! i’ve seen a few people write about child timeline Zelda having a general gist of Sheik’s memories, but i’ve never seen it in this way and it’s crazy interesting to think abt. genuinely tysm for sharing this idea it’s sick

can i hear about your different perspective on sheik pretty pls 👀

Of course!

Okay so. Please bear with me because there's a lot of nebulous Sheikah magic involved but the gist of it is that Sheik and Zelda (at least in Ocarina of Time) are two completely seperate people.

Before I get into it, to anyone reading, this is not an attack on other people's interpretations of Sheik and OoT Zelda. Those other takes are completely 100% valid because, at the end of the day, they're fictional characters and can be headcanoned however the heck you want. All I ask is that you kindly respect my opinion, and if you don't like it, that's okay! You don't have to agree with it and are 10000% free to continue enjoying your own.

I am gonna put a cutoff so that if people think it might upset them they don't have to read it, but if you'll be fine, then please continue below!

The main driving force behind this is to examine how it would affect Zelda's mental state later in life, but basically:

Sheik and Zelda are two completely different people. The next few notes are taken directly from my google doc explaining my thought process. A lot of this is taken from the OoT Manga, and then expanded.

SO.

Sheik.

Yes.

He is NOT Zelda.

7 years ago, when Zelda and Impa escaped Ganondorf’s clutches for the first time, the young princess realized that the Evil King’s minions would never stop hunting her and her handmaid. So she asked Impa to hide her- in any way possible.

Impa was reluctant, but she knew it would be better for Zelda to go into hiding willingly than be forced to. So, using ancient Sheikah magic, she sealed the princess away in a special portion of the Sacred Realm, transferring her memories into the body of a young Sheikah boy.

But this is important to note- Sheik was an ENTIRELY different entity from the princess. He was a creation of Impa’s magic, destined to fade away when the time came for Zelda to awaken. Zelda’s memories remained in him so he could help the hero, but they were modified so that it was as if Sheik was a third-person bystander- Impa’s orphaned nephew and Zelda’s closest friend, inseparable from her and watching her at all times, always conveniently hidden away so that these modifications wouldn’t conflict with the Hero’s memories when he awakened from his slumber. 

Speaking of memories, Sheik DID remember Zelda being sealed away, but this memory was HIGHLY modified so that the sealing was all that remained with him. He didn’t remember Zelda’s memories being transferred to him, or the fact that Impa cried for two days afterwards. 

ANYWAY. Moving on…

After Ganon’s hostile takeover, Impa and her young nephew fled to Impa’s hometown of Kakariko village, where Impa trained him in espionage, assassination, and ancient Sheikah martial arts in secret. To the outside world, however, Sheik was simply the mysterious boy who helped with trading between the town and the nearby Lon Lon Ranch. But by the time he's 17, Impa's trained him become an official Sheikah Ninja.

He manages to get into Ganondorf's ranks and becomes a double agent; in reality, his goal is to give aid to the Hero of Time that the princess loved so much.

So when Link awakens, Sheik is there. 

When Link travels, Sheik accompanies him in the shadows.

By the time the Hero has completed the Water Temple, he and his Sheikah advisor have become best friends. Inseparable, bound by their quest to help the Princess, and eventually by other things too. (It helps that Malon is a mutual friend.)

But when all the temples have been freed…

When Link travels back to the Temple of Time…

When the time comes for the Princess to awaken…

Sheik ceases to exist.

Zelda remembers him, but much like her modified memories, she remembers the events of the past seven years as if she were a third-person bystander.

She remembers Sheik, but more like he was her brother than like she was him. More importantly, she MISSES Sheik. He saved her life, kept her safe for seven years, allowed her to make connections and friendships she wouldn’t have made otherwise.

So yeah, that's the gist of it. She also eventually names her son Sheik, because of the aforementioned reasons. I've just worried I couldn't ever post this for fear of getting attacked for it. But yeah, that's my take on Sheik. If y'all've got any questions about him or any other headcanons of mine, feel free to drop 'em off in my inbox!

[candyhoiic]

Hazbin Hotel Roleswap Au but my Take on it (Part One)

Lilith

Still disappears for seven years but guess what she’s back!~ but she forgot the milk smh.

Where did she go? Who knows but it wasn’t Heaven this time!

Lilith and Lucifer were officially divorced before she left for seven years with Lucifer being the one to actually initiate the divorce.

To deal with her divorce, she writes songs like a lot of songs. Some are good, most of them are umm well there something for sure. She also travels which she says is the reason she went missing for seven years. It’s partially true…

She tells a lot of partial truths.

She doesn’t talk much to Lucifer these days, but Charlie can at least reach her in the au. She’s not winning any awards for Hell’s greatest ex-wife, but she is still slaying as a mom- well kind of.

She’s involved in the Hazbin Hotel supporting her daughter. She has some hopes that sinners can be redeemed but has no interest in being redeemed herself even if she could be.

While she supports Charlie, she does it remotely, never actually stepping foot onto the property until Lucifer does due to not wanting to be outdone by her ex. They end up fighting for parent superiority like Alastor and Lucifer did in Hell’s Greatest Dad but this time it’s Hell’s Greatest Parent (spoiler alert neither of them win).

Lilith is more of a goofball than canon Lilith is but just like canon Lucifer she has her serious moments.

She supports Chaggie before it’s even official just thought y’all should know.

Lucifer

Meet your much more serious king of Hell.

He takes his position seriously and is more hands-on in Hell’s politics. Goes to almost all overlord meetings to stay in the know. Calls his own often enough.

He still can’t stand Alastor in this au but is more lowkey about his distaste for the radio demon.

He’s better at keeping his cool and more mischievous. Honestly, think of how everyone theorized Lucifer would be from what we saw of him in the pilot, and you have this au’s Lucifer.

He initiates his and Lilith’s divorce due to their conflicting views towards sinners. Lucifer grew to hate sinners while Lilith could never bring herself to even grow indifferent towards the sinner’s plight. She stood up for sinners and questioned his authority more than he cared for. She also reminded him too much of his past and the way he used to be.

Lucifer is a much more bitter man and was Charlie’s main caregiver when she was growing up.

However, he has a rather distant relationship with her despite spending more time with her than Lilith did. Lilith told Charlie stories of the past much to Lucifer’s displeasure as he did his best to hide the past from her.

Still has a rubber duck collection but it’s way less extensive and he hasn’t made a rubber duck since before Charlie was born. Sometimes he even forgets they exist so they’re just collecting dust.

Fun fact: He was the one to actually propose exterminations. :) Everyone thinks it was Heaven’s idea including Charlie and Lilith.

What a hypocrite! Because he still comes to ‘help’ the hotel. Lowkey tries to sabotage it and doesn’t care for Vaggie. He thinks she’s a bad influence on Charlie. Vaggie isn’t his biggest fan either.

Charlie

Still the princess of Hell, but now she’s more jaded yayyy! /sar

Charlie doesn’t really believe in sinners being redeemed, but publicly supports Vaggie’s hotel because she dislikes the fact that anybody from heaven has any sway over her kingdom, and deep down still cares for her people despite her father’s teachings.

Charlie’s relationship with Lucifer is much more strained in this au than in canon. She still loves her dad, but they never had a close relationship. Lucifer treats her more like his protege than his actual daughter.

Charlie's relationship with Lilith is still strained as well, but Lilith is more open to being affectionate with Charlie and reaching out to just talk. Charlie appreciates it but also still holds a grudge over Lilith leaving her for seven years with little to no contact

Charlie is more feared by Hell’s citizens and methodically silences most of the opposition towards the hotel. She isn’t above forcing people to come to the hotel, but out of respect for Vaggie she doesn’t coerce sinners into becoming guest.

Much more involved in Hell’s politics like her father.

A lot of sinners owe her a favor, but she has yet to ever actually own a sinner’s soul.

Vaggie

Still an ex-exorcist but in this au Charlie already knows of her past.

Charlie still ‘saves’ Vaggie in this au, taking on a more direct role as she’s responsible for scaring off Lute and Adam before they can kill Vaggie. Vaggie still loses her eye and wings though.

However, Charlie doesn’t do this out of the kindness of her own heart, but rather because Charlie sees potential in having an ex-exorcist owe her a favor.

In exchange for Charlie saving and sheltering her in her castle for the rest of the extermination, Vaggie tells her all about Heaven and angels. As well as reluctantly agrees to owning Charlie a favor of her choosing which Vaggie is swindled into being contractually obligated to follow through on when the time comes, or she’ll lose her soul.

Once the extermination is officially over Charlie politely kicks Vaggie out of her castle, cryptically mentioning she’ll be watching her.

Vaggie doesn’t see Charlie again until after she starts planning on starting the Happy Hotel to redeem sinners. Charlie originally appears to put a stop to Vaggie’s plans, but Charlie ends up helping her get the project off the ground.

Charlie and Vaggie aren’t officially dating in this au until sometime after the main story plot takes off, but they are good friends with Vaggie having a crush on Charlie.

However, when the time comes for their relationship to take a more romantic turn it’s Charlie who initiates it by annulling their contract to show Vaggie she was serious about wanting to court her and be equals.

Their romance is way more of a slow burn in this. With Charlie being very serious in wanting to do right by Vaggie and doing the whole courting gifts and wooing thing.

Vaggie’s personality in this au is more of what you would expect from a typical angel. She’s more trusting and less prone to resorting to violence despite her ex-exorcist past.

She also wasn’t that great of an exorcist when she still was one and was actually well known among the ranks for being one of the worst in all of history, which is why unlike the original au Adam was going to just kill her.

Angel Dust

In this au, Angel Dust takes the place of Valentino as the overlord of lust.

However, he’s a standalone overlord who doesn’t form an official alliance like the Valentino did with the rest of Vees in the original world.

He’s besties with Vox similar to how Rosie and Alastor are in canon.

Him and Cherri Bomb are still friends and Huskerdust will still happen because I said so.

Angel Dust's father was the first official sinner he killed as an arising overlord.

Angel Dust owns his brother, Arackniss’ soul and has him as one of his main porn directors since he knows sexual content, especially gay sexual content, makes his brother highly uncomfortable.

Later on, he gives Arackniss an option to continue to have his soul owned by him or Arackniss can join the hotel and actually try to be redeemed, and if he's successful Angel will let him go.

He doesn’t own Valentino’s soul. Although he and Valentino still have history as Valentino had sought to once take him down and become the overlord of lust himself, but ultimately fails and falls to Vox, who now owns his soul.

Vox did offer Valentino’s soul to Angel Dust, but he declined, creeped out by the man to even want his soul. Although Angel Dust does take pleasure whenever he gets to witness Vox putting Val into his place.

Angel Dust is a better boss than Valentino thank God. He cares for all the souls he owns but isn’t afraid to treat them with a firm hand when needed.

Has a bit of a sadistic streak to him to sinners who he doesn’t own. A master manipulator, who can command sinner’s forcefully by summoning translucent strings which anchor into their limbs to manipulate their bodies to do with as he pleases. Takes a lot out of him so he usually depends more on the fact his venom can make people more open to suggestion.

Still can summon guns because of his mafia roots hehe

He still has Fat Nuggets! Valentino gave him Fat Nuggets when he was trying to get on Angel’s good side so he could betray him later on. It didn’t work out for him like I already mentioned but it did bring Fat Nuggets to Angel.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Den of Vipers

Sinners and Saints: Chapter 1

Pairing: Mafia! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Hemmings! Reader

Word count: 5.8 k

Summary: Devastating news forces you to knock on the door of the last person you’d ever want to see.

Warnings: Death, murder, blood, guns, mentions of drugs, abuse, torture, kidnapping, language. Some gramatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Author’s Note: Hiya! Welcome to my new series. I won’t have a taglist anymore, so any way you can support this, whether it is a reblog, comment or like, would be very much appreciated ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🌻✨❤️

Series Masterlist

The roaring sound of the engine could be heard from your room, distracting you from the book you were so comfortably reading. A smile crossed your features as you jumped out of bed and made your way outside.

The sun was starting to set with the golden hour on the horizon. The image of your brother’s back walking out the door welcomed you for just a moment before you decided to jump on him, immediately making him drop the small amount of luggage he was carrying.

“Since when do you leave without saying goodbye?” You laughed, perfectly koaling your way along his broad back.

The perks of being a little sister: you’re never too old or too heavy for piggyback rides from your siblings.

Luke groaned a laugh “Since I figured I could be free from your ass a few minutes longer”

You jumped off him “You don’t mean that”

“Of course not,” He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I was going to go up to your room in a few minutes”

It was always like this when he had to leave. Ever since he started helping your father at work, he’s been gone most of the time, barely having any time for you. It was no secret that Luke was your favorite amongst your brothers, nor did he hide the fact that you were his favorite as well. It was just the way it is, having just two years distancing you of age he became your best friend from the beginning. And it was not like you were allowed many friends either - or rather, no one wanted to be your friend because of your last name.

Luke got that, everyone in the family did. But growing up made it harder for you than your brothers. Being the only girl in the family does that.

“How long are you leaving this time?”

Luke sighed “Dad said it’s only for a week, but you know him”

“So I should expect you by the end of the month” You answered him, trying to hide the hurt in your smile “Can’t you come back early? At least for a few days?”

“Why?” He asked with a puzzled expression “Is there something important happening or…?” You punched him, he laughed “Of course I’ll try to be here for your birthday, little thunder”

And if Luke said he would try, he meant it.

He kissed your forehead before a loud honk could echo throughout the house.

“Someone’s impatient” You rolled your eyes.

“We gotta love him” Luke shrugged, grabbing his luggage and giving you one last look “Take care, Y/N”

“You, too! I’ll see you when you get back”

“I’ll bring you a present!”

You stayed at the door until you watched the car disappear through the gates. Little did you know what would happen next.

*

The brain works in funny ways. Always reminding you of things you would rather forget.

It’s been a week since “it” happened, but there wasn’t a day where you didn’t relieve it at least once.

The rain against the window; the loud knocks on the door. You were sitting in the kitchen, putting the last candles on your birthday cake, anxious about the promise Luke made you as you looked at the clock. How did they let the police just pass through the gate like that? Maybe the guards knew it was urgent. How you walked down the hall, careful just to eavesdrop without being noticed, just in time to watch your mother fall to her knees, her beautiful party dress ruined as the most horrifying sound left her mouth.

Then, it was all a blur.

People dressed in black. Your father having meetings after meetings behind closed doors, always catching your eye before the familiar click of the lock filled the silence. How the rain felt against your skin as the casket containing your brother's body was lowered down to the ground, never to be seen again. Your mother’s tears. The fake “I’m sorry for your loss” speeches. Your father's stone-cold expression as his hand covered your shoulder with some sort of affection. The silence that came afterward.

But it couldn’t end like that. It wasn’t right.

“We need to find him,” You told your father after the funeral.

He was sitting behind his desk, looking the oldest you’ve ever seen him. His eyes weren’t even focusing on you, almost as if he were also lost.

The first time he lost a son, Ben, your oldest brother, it made him cold as ice. It helped him build the empire he had now, grown on the blood of the enemies he took down along the way. You were just a child then, not older than thirteen, but you remember how fast things started to change. How friends stopped being friends, how business never meant the same thing again, how your mother stopped smiling as the jewels in her chest started growing.

But this is different.

“Dad,” You begged, hating how you sounded like a little kid again.

“There is nothing we can do, Y/N,” He said, coldly.

That’s who Robert Hemmings was, never sugarcoating anything. He tried, albeit your mother’s begging, to keep you out of the know of the family business. You were their only daughter, their little Angel, what good would it do to drag you into this world of madness and blood? It seemed like she didn’t know you at all.

“So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?!” Your voice rose with every word.

Your father didn’t dignify you with a response, instead, he chose to sit back and close his eyes. For the first time in years, you realized just how old your father was getting. The creases upon his face were as deep as the dark circles under his eyes. His white hair was getting thinner by the hour, and the spots on his skin seemed to be growing.

For a second you wondered just how much time it had passed since you saw him smile, since you spent time with him like you used to when you were a little kid. But you were not a kid anymore, and the man in front of you did not seem like your father at all.

He seemed tired, he probably was after all of this. But you were tired as well, tired of so, so many things that you were done keeping quiet for.

“He is still out there,” You said, more quietly this time “I know he is”

“Y/N…” He sighed, rubbing the pads of his fingers on his temple, trying hard to come up with the right words before he exploded in a fit of anger as he usually does with his subordinates “You heard what the police said. You read the reports even though we told you not to-”

“The reports said they only found one body, dad. One!” You wanted to scream, to shake some sense back into him but for what? You could already see the lost battle before it even began “Maybe Luke wasn’t in the car, maybe-”

“The car was completely burned out! They found his jewelry, some bones- Y/N I don’t know how else to tell you! They’re dead!”

“Jack is dead,” You said somberly “Jack’s body is the only one that they found. Jack’s the one six feet below. Not Luke”

Robert sat back in his chair, shaking his head as you continued with your ranting.

“The bones couldn’t be identified, so it could be one poor soul that got the short end of the stick. It could be one of the collateral damage, as you call them, right dad? Could be fucking anyone! Luke could still be out there, he could be in trouble and we’re sitting here doing nothing-!”

A loud bang interrupted you. Your father’s fist was tense over his desk after he banged on it, not caring about the glass of water that tipped over and was now spilling over the edge of the mahogany. The vein on his neck was trembling as well as his jaw, but his eyes weren’t focused on you. Instead, he looked down, eyes wide and unreadable with every emotion hidden and swallowed by his pride.

Still, that didn’t scare you.

“Jack would’ve wanted for us to find him”

“Don’t you fucking talk about your brother” Robert spat.

“Someone has to!” You stood up, letting the foot of the chair drag against the floor. You have never stood up to your father before, but it was time to change some things around the Hemmings' household “You know I’m right”

“Y/N, Luke is dead,” He said, finally looking straight at you. The helplessness in his eyes took you by surprise “The sooner you accept it, the better. The ceremony for his remains will be-”

“No! That’s not him!” You nearly cried, but you promised yourself not to. Not in front of him. Not ever “I’m not going to mourn a stranger standing in his place”

Your father just shook his head, letting his hands distract him as he sorted out the papers on his desk.

“Dad,” You demanded his attention, leaning over his desk “Dad!”

No response, no reaction.

“Fine,” You said, voice laced with anger “I’ll go find someone who will pay attention to me”

You started to walk away, not looking back as your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, cutting the skin to distract you from crying out of rage and disappointment. This was not how you expected he would react. You didn’t expect him to give up just like that.

The merciless boss of one of the biggest mafia rings in the country… giving up for his son.

“Y/N,” He called out before you closed the door behind you, making you stop in your tracks but you refused to look at him “I’m thinking of selling the business”

Those words left you frozen in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down your back as you turned to him, clear fear in your eyes.

“What?”

Robert, stoic as usual, didn’t look up as he signed over something.

“The Luccas made an offer” He explained in so little detail “I believe it’ll be for the best”

“For the best?!” You scoffed, feeling completely betrayed. A new low you believed your father could never be able to reach “For the best of whom? Your conscience? Breaking news, dad. You don’t have one. Cause if you did, you would never-”

You pressed your lips together, shushing the lump in your throat that threatened to escape in a sob. You took a deep breath and turned to your father.

“I hope you know this is the last time I’ll ever talk to you again if you dare to sell it to them. To him”

“That’s not your decision to make”

“Then consider me dead along with the rest of your children. You’re good at that”

The banging on the door was heard all over the house along with your shoes stomping on the floor.

*

He could laugh. Was it possible that they were that stupid?

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Calum Hood and Michael Clifford to come at him for help, but really? Drugs?

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me,” He said, both Calum and Michael shifted a little in their seats.

There they were, sitting in comfortable velvety cushion seats with leather handles; drinking a whiskey that was probably older than them; hands adorned with expensive jewelry and dressed in the finest suits they could afford. And they were afraid.

It was normal, of course, to feel intimidated by him. After all, his reputation preceded him as one of the deadliest men in the country. His successful deals gave him millions, and the ones that weren’t as successful still made him a threat. Men feared him or wanted to be him. Women fell at his feet on their knees and not just to beg for mercy.

There was no wonder why he was nicknamed “Lucifer” given that his eyes resembled the evil and cruelty of Alexander Cabanel’s painting. There was no good left in him, not that anyone knew. Not that he would show proof of that.

Ashton Irwin was a proud man, a respectable man. And the two men in front of him knew it, so why waste their time?

Both Calum and Michael were famous around town as well. The prodigal son, Calum Hood, became a household name after he took on the family business after holding his father at gunpoint to sign the papers for him. Soon, he enlisted Michael Clifford, a wizard in technology and heir to his own fortune - albeit a bit small - as his right-hand man. They made themselves known in the business, and even Ashton had to admit that it was surprising how quickly they went up the ladder amongst the other families he knew. But, as any rookies, they made a few mistakes and asked a lot of favors that they were now trying to amend.

“Calum, how’s your girl?” Ashton asked, leaning back on his chair, pretending that their request was never asked in the first place “Still running that bookshop back on Seventh Street?”

The smirk on Ashton’s face might not have meant anything else but a taunt to Calum. But the latter didn’t like the way he said it, almost as if he knew that his girl was his only weakness.

“She’s good” He answered, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing him affected.

Ashton hummed, looking at the third guy who was standing near the mirror on the wall.

“It’s not nice to bring security and bodyguards for a talk with friends,” He said.

“Is that what we are?” Michael asked, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“You tell me, Clifford. Cause I know for sure that if you came to me as partners then we wouldn’t even have this conversation” Calum opened his mouth to speak but Ashton silenced him “Because as you know, I don’t make deals with lost causes, and right now I’m seeing two in front of me”

“Ashton-”

“There’s a thing called “unsaid agreements” in this business, Calum, I know you’re familiar with that. And that is we don’t shit where we eat. We don’t sell drugs in this city, we don’t make deals with the locals, and for fuck’s sake we don’t owe favors to the ones that don’t comply with this agreement” He pointed his finger at the two men in front of him “And you two fuckers did the three things together”

“Well, what choice did we have?!” Calum asked “The Luccas were threatening to take over our territory and-”

“And I don’t give a fuck about the Lucass’” Ashton spat “In fact…”

In one swift move, he took a gun under his desk and shot the security guard right in the head.

“WHAT THE-”

“FUCKING CHRIST”

The two men yelled and jumped as the gun went off. Splatters of blood could be found in their clothing and faces, but nothing compared to the smear of blood and brains that now dropped from the mirror. Ashton, as usual, sat back in his chair with a smirk and hid the gun. Not a single drop of blood hit him or his desk.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Calum yelled, trying to wipe the blood from his clothes, showcasing his lack of knowledge of the business.

“Cause he was wearing a microphone you jackass!” Ashton spat “Hidden on the belt, look it up”

Michael leaned down and he in fact found a small microphone hidden behind the buckle. He sighed as he showed it to Calum. The two men looked back at Ashton with tired looks filled with anger and embarrassment.

“Another advice,” He said “Don’t fucking invite newbies to “important” meetings”

“You think you’re so smart…”

“I know I’m smart, Hood, and I’m the best there is in this business so don’t you fucking forget it. There’s a reason you came to me and not to the bloody Bermans” He got up and walked up to Calum, grabbing his chin and pulling his closer “I’m the only chance you have but I don’t even know if you two idiots deserve it. So, admit it, Hood”

Calum rolled his eyes, but Ashton tightened his grip.

“Say it” He nearly whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Jesus fuck, fine. We need you, okay?”

Ashton smiled, letting go of Calm and patting him on the cheek “Atta boy”

Just in time, someone knocked on the door before opening it. A young blond girl dressed in a white crop top and leather pants peaked inside, only showing half of her body but her whole face.

“Sir?”

“Lauren, not now”

“There’s someone here to see you”

Ashton rolled his eyes “I don’t have time for it right now. Whatever or whoever it is, it can wait till at least for the cleaning to come up”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir. She’s very insistent. I’ve been trying to hold her back for twenty minutes now” Ashton gave her a look that made her roll her eyes “She says her name is angel and that it’s urgent”

Ashton perked up at the name. Slowly biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded and turned back toward his desk.

He clicked his tongue before looking toward Michael and Calum, and then back to his assistant.

“Bring her in and send the cleaning team to at least remove that idiot, please” Lauren nodded and closed the door. He looked at his desk, putting away some papers as he nonchalantly said “You two, out”

“What?!”

“This isn’t over, Irwin-”

“Yes, Clifford it is” He stared at them but barely raised his head “Now get the fuck out before I make you”

Ashton could only hear a string of murmured curses and then the door closing with a bang. He smirked, “Angel,” He whispered to himself in a singing, mocking tone “What have you gotten into”

*

The blonde girl looked familiar. Her smile showed some kindness that you weren’t used to seeing around these places, even when you first encountered her behind the bar. She didn’t ask questions other than your name and the reason for your sudden visit.

“He doesn’t see people without a previous appointment,” She said, handing one more beer to the drunken men who slurred their thank you’s to her.

“What, is he a doctor?” You chuckled humorlessly, but the girl didn’t laugh along with you. her bright blue eyes just showed pity and understanding. You sighed “Look, tell him is angel, he’ll see me”

The girl shrugged “I can’t promise you anything, doll. Just wait here��

Once she was out of sight through a backdoor, you took your time to scan the place. Ashton did outsell himself with this one.

“The Den of Vipers” was the most popular club in the city, having opened ten years ago when Ashton took over the family business, it was still filled with clients who wanted to get lost for a while. Ashton was good at making people disappear, and it showed. This place screamed his name wherever you would look.

The floor was a dark marble with white gold lines separating the tiles. There were booths against the walls, all made of velvet cushions and leather. The lights were low, and changing from blue to purple, to green and then white again as the music played, it was impossible to keep track of the people there thanks to it. The bar itself was made of bulletproof glass, standing proudly and mockingly in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by different bodies lost in the mindless music the DJ of the night put on, almost in trance and unaware of the things that happened behind the scenes.

Of course, this whole charade of a humble business owner was just Ashton’s front to the authorities - even though they always seemed to be on his side, many times you heard your father complain about it - but you knew the reality. In fact, you were sure that when the girl came back, you’d be led through the backdoor and into the real building. You’d walk through careful hallways that will eventually lead you to the owner’s real office.

And that is exactly what happened once she came back and guided you through cushioned, sound-proofed walls covered in dark green velvet. The lights of the halls were dimmed, giving the feeling of being watched at all times like a haunted house. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case, after all, Ashton could be anything but careless when it came to a negotiation.

Which is exactly why you’re here.

When you got to the door of his office, you didn’t need to knock as the door opened immediately. Two guys dressed in black came out carrying a bodybag, leaving the door open. You rolled your eyes because, of course, Ashton would make a big show.

“I’ll take it from here,” You said to the girl, giving her a small smile that she mirrored.

The first thing you saw when you came into the office was the desk. It had nothing but some papers and a lamp, no sign of family pictures or hobbies. It was common for the “big bosses” to keep their workplaces clean of any personal relationships, but coming from Ashton it seemed pretentious - at least for you.

The mirror still had blood stains on it and you could tell they were still fresh, even so you didn’t look twice. Blood and guts are not something that shocks you anymore, and that realization came with a whole can of worms you weren’t ready to open up yet. There were some stains on the floor and what you could assume was gunpowder residue, so you were careful not to step on those.

“I’d apologize for the mess, princess. But you and I both know it doesn’t matter”

You turned to find Ashton with his back facing you as he fixed a drink on his personal mini-bar. His broad shoulders and back were covered with the finest of suits - from Milan, everyone and their mothers wore clothes from Milan - his hair was longer than the last time you saw him.

When he turned around, however, it seemed like nothing had changed.

He looked mature, of course, twelve years can do that to someone. But his eyes were still the same shade of hazel you remember, only a bit more sadist. He looked good, and somehow you hated that. It was time to put the past in the past where it belonged and stop the memories before they cloud your mind. Still, something inside you kept telling you, urging you to let yourself go. What did it matter how he looked? But that thought came late for the half smile he wore as he walked up to you, made you realize that he caught you staring.

“Here,” He said, handing you a glass of whiskey and coke. How’d he know your favorite drink? that was a question for another time “I assume you’re a big girl now, princess”

You glared at him as you swallowed the whole glass in one go, never taking your eyes off him and his unimpressed look.

“‘m not a princess” You said, dryly “And I can make my own drink, thank you”

You pushed past him and walked toward the mini bar, fixing yourself another drink. It was clear that you didn’t need it, your mind was screaming and begging for you to keep a clear head while you were ahead and in front of Lucifer himself. But something in his smile… the way his eyes still treated you like a child, so condescending, brought something in you. A chance to prove yourself in front of him.

All your life you had to prove yourself in front of men like him. In front of women who think they were better than you because their hands didn’t get dirty as yours did. In front of your parents. Of Luke… How long until they realize that you are where you belong?

Once you finished making your drink you turned back to Ashton. His eyes roamed your body, shamelessly, he licked his lips briefly before a smug grin adorned his face, eyes looking straight at you.

“I can see that,” He said, leaning against his desk “So, angel, haven’t heard from you in a while”

You rolled your eyes “Don’t call me that”

“You’ve never seemed to mind it before”

“I’m not here to reminisce about the olden days, Irwin” You spat.

Ashton whistled “So the bitch can bark! Impressive. Who would’ve thought that the balls of the Hemmings family were hiding behind their youngest?” Your face turned red in anger as your fingers tensed around the glass. Ashton noticed and tauntingly walked toward you with a smirk and leaning to whisper in your ear “But guess what? Y/N, you still can’t bite”

Your body became hot at his proximity. The smell of his cologne filled your surroundings as the rage - or something else, something new - inside your stomach kept boiling. But before you could push him away, he was already pulling apart and going back to sit at his desk.

“Tell me, Y/N, what is a Hemmings doing here all by herself? Has daddy finally kicked you out?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking down unable to meet his eyes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, not with him. But there wasn’t any other choice.

“I need help,” You said, hating how those words sounded coming from you.

“Everybody does” He shrugged “Doesn’t mean they’re going to get it-”

“Ashton,” You finally looked back at him. The urgency of your voice and the fact that you called him by his name for the first time since you came here, took him by surprise as he listened “Jack’s dead”

Ashton’s eyes remained unchanged at your words, looking straight at you while his fingers played with his rings on the opposite hand. From his reaction, it was hard to guess that once upon a time he and the Hemmings’ siblings were inseparable, Jack being the closest of age to him and one of his first friends. Your eyes begged for him to do something, say something. To show you any indication that he might help.

The bond between your family and his broke a long time ago. You were barely a child, but you knew there was no going back to the summers filled with laughter and joy you all shared. In the blink of an eye - or at least that’s what it felt like as a child - The Irwins and the Hemmings were sworn enemies. And the friendship you had with Ashton vanished in thin air.

You and Luke took it the hardest, begging your mother to help you call the Irwin household so you could talk to Ash. Never understanding why suddenly her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head no and told you to play something else.

“He hates us,” Luke said to you once. It was another boring afternoon after you suggested calling him again. But Luke’s eyes were cold as ice, scaring you as he said “And we hate him”

And for a while that was it. You weren’t going to go against your brother, so the subject was finally dropped and you haven’t seen Ashton since. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

But now, years after the fallout, you were hoping somehow that those words were a lie. Maybe Ashton could still hold some kind of fond memory of your families together. Anything to make you believe he might help you.

“My condolences,” He said after a while, no emotion hidden in his voice.

His comment made you angry, “Is that it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He shrugged “People die every day, Y/N, it just the way it is”

“He was murdered”

“Shocker” Ashton scoffed with sarcasm “He was never the brightest of lads.”

“It was an ambush,” You said, unable to stop. “They were driving back home in the middle of the night when a string of bullets came raining down on the vehicle. Jack could barely escape before they found him and slit his throat. They burned the car afterward. And Luke-... Luke’s missing, Ashton”

Ashton nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line “He’s probably dead”

“No, he’s not”

And maybe it was because of your determination, or the look in your eyes when you said it, almost as if you believed it. But Ashton grinned at your statement.

“No,” He said, “He’s not”

A small breath of relief escaped your lips. Finally, somebody believed you.

“Would you help me?”

“No”

“What?!”

Ashton shrugged “Why would I help you, little Hemmings? What makes you so entitled to come here and ask for my help after what your family did?”

“My family?” It caught you off guard, what did he know that you didn’t?

“And why aren’t they helping to find their beloved golden child?” Ashton mocked, standing up and circling his desk until he was once again in front of you “All the stories we hear about the young, promising Hemmings… I’m sure they were not talking about you”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, grip tightening around the glass, nearly breaking it.

“I am shocked that they didn’t start a search party already. Has daddy Hemmings opened his eyes to his karma yet? Why should I care? Matter of fact, why should you?”

“He’s my brother,”

“Cute. Not enough, but thanks for trying” He nodded toward the door “See yourself out, angel. This isn’t your castle”

Ashton turned around, not even giving you a second glance. Your hand reached out to him, grabbing him by the arm and making him stop. There were probably a few people who could do that to him, even fewer the ones who were still alive to tell the story. He turned his eyes toward you, curiosity and anger hidden in those hazel marbles staring back at you and then at your hand on his arm.

The tension was clear, but it was a little too late to rethink that mistake. If this was your only shot, then you had to take it. You owe that much to Luke.

“I- I have no one, Ash,” You said, looking down, ashamed of your statement and how weak you sounded.

Ashton didn’t say a word, he didn’t move away either. He stood there, waiting for you to continue. And for the first time in a long time, you felt relieved that someone was at least willing to listen.

“I left them,” You told him, looking straight into his eyes “I left my family because they did not believe me. They can’t find Luke, they won’t even try. He’s the only person I have left and I won’t rest until I find him, with or without your help”

Ashton grinned maniacally, a shadow appearing in his eyes as he looked down at you. Now you understand why they called him Lucifer. For he once was one of God's most beautiful angels, but temptation and his own ego were his doom. And, as he leaned down, you couldn’t help but be entranced by that wicked smile as he said, nearly whispering.

“And what are you willing to do, angel?”

It was a challenge, you could see it in his eyes. A bait to lure you into a trap. And you took it.

“Anything”

Ashton’s smile widened as he freed himself from your grasp and walked over to his desk to grab a set of keys, pressing a little button on it.

“If I’m going to help you, little Hemmings - and I’m not saying I will just yet - you’ll have to resign your name and what comes with it. I’ll be dead before I help a Hemmings out of the sheer kindness of my heart”

You rolled your eyes “You don’t have a heart, Irwin. Is that all you want? I told you I left my father”

“I don’t need a rogue princess fumbling with my business” Ashton scoffed, “So whatever I say goes. You’re working for me, Hemmings, not the other way around” He walked closer to you again, his chest nearly hitting yours “If I say go, you go. If I say we stop, you stop. If I say get out of my sight, you better pray your little feet move fast. I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you represent. If you fuck with me, I’ll fuck right back. And I go hard, angel. No intentions of having any kind of mercy. Understood?”

You challenged him with a look, trying to figure him out. But time was running out, and you didn’t have any other option.

“Yes.” You said, dryly.

Ashton clicked his tongue “Yes, what?”

“Don’t push it, Irwin” You took a step back “So, we have a deal?”

The doors to the office opened and two large, muscly men dressed in suits came in and stood quietly but threatening at the door. You crooked an eyebrow and looked back at Ashton.

“Friends of yours?”

“Acquaintances,” He said, walking over to them and getting out the door, only stopping for a second “You comin’?”

The two men walked behind you as you followed Ashton through the halls that first brought you there. The image of his broad shoulders walking under the low lights and out toward the club shielded you from any distractions. He would sometimes glance over his shoulder, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he noticed you were still walking a few steps behind him.

People at the club were sweaty and unashamed. Bodies grinding against one another and along the beat of a dark EDM song. Some women and boys would walk up to Ashton, letting their hands grace the skin of his face and neck or arms as they each seductively said hello to him. It seemed as if they were enchanted by him, moved by a spell of lust as their eyes would meet his. They wanted him, they all wanted him. Ashton would smile, say their names, and acknowledge them with a hello before moving to another person, another step toward the exit.

Ashton led you through a door that led to another dark hallway. The music sounded muffled through the walls, blocking your ears at the sudden change of environment. Ashton walked a few steps ahead before he stopped and turned around toward you, hands in his pockets as he looked at you and grinned.

“Now what?” You asked, annoyed “Any other fan of yours that we need to greet?”

Ashton chuckled and shook his head.

“No, just precautions”

“Precautions? Why would you-”

“Sorry, angel”

And with a snap of his fingers, the world went black.

*

[kaigarax]

Sometimes, All I Think About Is You

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Quote: "Openly fall in love."

First Encounters

The first time Satoru Gojo sees you is when the two of you are just kids. He’s a boy just about to attend Eton Academy and you’re a young girl who’s just begun to learn the difference between men and women.

Satoru’s parents, citing his lack of friends (his only friend being the young stable boy around his age) and hoping to acquaint him with some ‘proper’ company. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. So, being the ever doting parents that the Gojo’s claim to be they set up a playdate with the family of the viscounts that live close by.

A family of six, if Satoru isn’t mistaken.

The Viscount and his wife, two twin boys around his age and two girls about five and seven years younger respectively.

Satoru finds your older brothers awfully boring. One of them, Satoru thinks, certainly has to be the dumbest person he’s ever met and the other is the most aloof. Such a pair that Satoru is almost a little worried about what might happen next to the Viscount's family in the future and he rarely ever cares about others.

Satoru doesn’t try very hard to get along with the two boys. He lets them show him around briefly, he even plays a couple of games of croquet before disappearing into the manner with the excuse of looking for the bathroom. With any luck, the two of them might forget about him long enough for the remainder of this horrible playdate to end and he can finally leave.

Truth be told, Satoru has always been a little different from the other people around him. Always seen the world a little differently from everyone else. It was almost as if everyone else stumbled around in a world of black and white while he was the only one that could see in colour. The only person who ever came close to understanding him was Suguru Geto, the stable boy and son of his family’s butler. And while it was frowned upon to make friends with the ‘help’ it would be the first time that Satoru could just be… himself.

The young boy could barely even find it within himself to feel bad as he abandoned your twin brother to wander the house. Sure, he’d been given a tour earlier but that had mostly been a quick look around. Satoru hadn’t gotten the chance to actually look at things in the detail that he wanted to.

His eyes wandered from the old curtains, which oddly reminded Satoru of his mother’s dresses, to the long line of photos left to hang up on the wall. Family portraits, Satoru thinks. All the people look vaguely familiar to one another with a familiar resemblance in the eyes and smiles. Satoru’s own family had something similar though the paintings are ones of the patriarch rather than of the entire family.

“It took the painter three weeks to paint that one.” You say.

Satoru isn’t surprised, he had heard you come in, but he feigns surprise. Suguru had told him that it was better to pretend to act normal around other people if he wanted them to like him. He had always found that annoying and pretentious but he would do what he had to in polite society. Especially if it meant he wouldn’t have to hear another lecture from his parents.

You look to be a couple years younger than Satoru as he turns to look at you. Five years give or take one or two in either direction. You’re a small thing, well small compared to him. You’re draped in a cool summer dress while Satoru personally thinks that spring is much too early. There also happens to be pins attached at the edges of the dress reminding him of his own fitting session that he would have to attend later on in the week.

Satoru hates attending fitting sessions. Doesn't see why he always needs to be wearing clothes that fit perfectly, especially because he seems to need to head there at least once every two months now that he’s begun growing. He doesn’t see why he can’t just wear clothes that are a little too big or too small for a little while like Suguru.

You take a step towards him, your eyes never lingering too long on him. Satoru’s always being scolded by his mother for staring at one thing for too long or not keeping eye contact long enough but you seem to have mastered the timing of the gaze perfectly. It’s both polite and respectful.

It absolutely infuriates Satoru.

You regard him with a calm expression that has him forgetting that you’re the younger of the two.

“I see you’ve abandoned the company of my brother.” You state.

Satoru points his nose up, “what of it?”

“It was merely an observation. I meant no harm.”

He then scrunches his face up as he leans down to stare at you. He has to lean down quite far considering you’re short. Though, admittedly you are five years younger than him and he’s tall for his age.

He notices that you’re holding a book behind your back fiddling around the edges of the page self consciously. Satoru had never been a big fan of reading, especially when he was around your age. He’d rather be outside play-wrestling with Suguru or doing some other physical activity or sport. He’d always been very good at physical things.

Admittedly, Satoru thinks you're pretty. Much better looking than your two brothers. So much so that he briefly wonders if the three of you are even related in the first place. If not for the same shape of the eyes, Satoru would have been certain that you were merely children that lived in the same house instead of siblings.

He still thinks that might be the case.

You’ll probably be pretty when you grow up. Perhaps not nearly as pretty as his mother but he’s certain you’ll be… charming? Well, at the very least you won’t be ugly. Especially if you end up taking after your mother. Satoru never really cared much for how pretty other people are but he has always considered himself a good judge.

Finally, Satoru pulls away, “you’re annoying.”

“If you’re attempting to insult me you’re going to have to try a little harder,” you say, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips, “I have two older brothers.”

“And you’re weird.” Huffed Satoru.

Your calm smile turns from calm to amused, “so are you.” Your lips move up more and your eyes seem to linger for just a moment longer on Satoru’s own.

Satoru’s jaw is dropped before he can even realise that it has. Not only is it the first time someone has so brazenly insulted him (not including Suguru) but it’s both the first time a woman (girl) has insulted him and someone younger than him has dared to treat him as an equal. Even most adults didn’t have the guts to bring themselves up to Satoru’s level unless they too stood in the same position as his parents.

But you.

Annoying and weird you are standing there in front of him as if you’re friends joking about a funny joke you just told. Perhaps you do think it’s a joke - which would only further prove to Satoru that you’re weird.

An older woman (likely your Nurse) runs into the room, her expression worried. She quickly bows to Satoru, “sorry, My Lord. The little missy here seems to have a mind of her own most of the time.” She turns to you with a harsh look, “did you say anything to insult the young Lord?”

Satoru expects you to roll your eyes or look away like any normal child would do. Thought maybe you might’ve stomped away angrily or made a face at him when your Nurse wasn’t looking.

Instead, your eyes soften and you smile fondly at your nurse, “I wasn’t on my best behaviour,” you calmly admitted.

Your Nurse sighs as she continues to reprimand you.

Satoru, on the other hand, is left a little shocked and speechless. He isn’t quite sure what happened but the wheels in his hand do begin turning and his heart starts to beat a little faster. He wonders if you can see the colours too.

---

A Conversation

Satoru Gojo comes to the conclusion that, after a while of getting to know you, yes you do see colours just not in the same way that he does. Your skills lie not in a brilliant way to dissect numbers nor demonstrate the ability to memorize new information or pick up skills at the drop of a hat like how he can but there’s nothing about you that can be considered ordinary either.

He heads over to your house at least once a week for the next two years. Not because he wants to, of course, but because his parents have stopped with the lectures about not hanging out with Suguru when he gives into their wishes and spends time at your house. And, sure, your older brother is awfully boring and dull but it gives him the chance to get to know you better. The strangely entertaining and endearing little girl who’s intelligence rivals his own.

It sucks that you don’t actually ever linger around when Satoru is there. You obediently listen to your brothers when they ask you to head elsewhere and you rarely ever spare Satoru a second glance unless Satoru goes out to seek you himself; and even you refuse to spend time with him unless he’s entertaining your brothers.

He notices that you’re an avid reader, always holding a new text in your hand every week. Satoru just knows that his parents wish that they had a child like you. So obedient to your elders and caretakers. So well mannered and thoughtful plus you seem intelligent and well read. He bets that you would have been named heir over your two older brothers if you too had been born a man.

You’re so mature for your age and perhaps that is what Satoru likes about you best.

He doesn’t have to go out of his way to entertain you or have to explain himself when he says something strange or different.

It simply just is.

It takes Satoru exactly two years to figure out why exactly he likes you so much. To come to all those conclusions above and finally get close enough to you that the two of you can consider one another as friends. It’s unfortunate that by then his visits stop as he begins school at Eton’s Academy for Boys. Higher education where any worth a damn in high society attends.

It sucks that he won’t be able to see you much anymore but what can Satoru do against the adamant wishes of his parents?

At least Suguru will be attending with him.

Suguru isn’t you but he’s one of the only people that actually understand him so it won’t be that bad.

You make his heart race and his stomach feel all fuzzy.

But it isn’t until several years later, when you’re a debutant freshly minted and prepared for your first season, that Satoru realises why.

It had been years since he’d last seen you.

Obviously, he knew that you were going to change. People always changed, both physically and mentally, but he just wasn’t ready for how different you looked. Hadn’t been as prepared for the change as he thought he was.

He’d always known that you would grow up to be pretty but this pretty? It wasn’t what he had been expecting.

Everyone’s eyes are drawn to you.

He knows that you must be the diamond of the season. It would simply be a crime not to. In fact, Satoru himself would march right up to the Queen himself and demand an explanation as to why you were not named the diamond.

Satoru floats through conversations, half of his attention on the conversation at hand and the other half wishing he was speaking to you. You always know the right thing to say to make him smile and he never has to bend over backwards trying to charm you. He knows you already like him exactly as he is. Flaws and all.

It’s unfortunate that his conversation with you ends almost as quickly as it begins.

You’re quickly swept away by some other gentlemen - your dance card full of potential suitors.

It annoys Satoru greatly though he isn’t quite sure why. Obviously, Satoru knows that he enjoys your company and he likes being around you so he’s angry that other people are taking your attention… right? That’s the reason. What else could it be?

Satoru’s thoughts were interrupted with a sharp elbow to his side as he exclaimed quietly, “hey!”

“You were pouting.” Suguru says.

“Was not.”

“Oh, you definitely were.”

Satoru grumbles to himself, annoyed.

Suguru chuckles quietly in response.

“What do you think of (Y/n)?” Satoru asked suddenly.

Suguru ponders briefly, “she’s a little like you.”

“Really?” Satoru raises a brow curiously, “I personally thought she was more like you.”

“How so?”

“She’s good at understanding other people and she cares an awful lot more about what other people think about her than she lets on.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully, “everyone cares about what everyone thinks.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s because you’re weird.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true,” Suguru gives Satoru a closed eye smile, “you’re weird but not super weird. A little weird.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, “like that’s so much better.”

“Let me put it this way,” Suguru explains, “you don’t care about what everyone thinks but you care about the thoughts of people that are important to you.”

“Isn’t that how everyone should think.”

“Oh, most certainly.”

Satoru knows that Suguru is mostly just entertaining him at this point. His words always have some hidden meaning to them (that Satoru is usually too lazy to dissect) but there are points when he simply says something to entertain Satoru. Suguru has always been thoughtful like that; it’s one of the reasons why Satoru has always liked him so much.

He thinks that that might be why he likes you too.

You make his heart race and his stomach feel all fuzzy.

But it isn’t until several years later, when you’re a debutant freshly minted and prepared for your first season, that Satoru realises why.

---

The Moment

Satoru is surprised when he sees you sitting by yourself early one spring morning.

Staring off into the distance in the middle of a hill that floats down into a lake.

Fluffs of dandelion seeds float around haphazardly in the air. Almost like snowflakes amidst the cool spring air. The melodic chirping of birds fills the air, though Satoru personally has never been a fan. Many of his classmates had written poems about the birds before. Talking about flight and freedom alongside a musicality that comes so naturally to them compared to humans.

It’s unusual for women, especially young girls who are in search of a husband, to head outside by themselves where any man could just stumble upon them without a chaperone. Satoru bets that you had woken up bright and early just so that you might be able to have a moment alone.

He almost feels a little bad to intrude on your moment alone.

He imagines you don’t get very many.

But he approaches you nonetheless. His heart tugs him towards you much like how a child pulls their parents down the aisles of a candy store. Eager and excited.

“(Y/n)~” Satoru says your name sweetly, liking the way it flows off of his tongue so easily. Thinks that it tastes so much better than some of the sweetest things he’s whispered to others.

You don’t bother turning to look at him as you would have done if this had taken place in the presence of others, “My Lord.”

“Satoru.”

“You really do love saying your name,” you tease, as he takes a seat beside you. He makes a face as the bottom of his pants get wet from the damp grass upon contact. His usual reaction would have been to jump up and scowl. He usually hates any uncomfortable feeling and does anything he can to avoid any such sensations but forces himself to bear with it as your warm shoulder brushes against his own. Well the sleeve of your dress brushes up against the dress-shirt but this is close enough for him. Besides, his pants are already wet now so he can bear with it for a little longer.

The two of you stare off into the distance, staring at the lake.

Satoru notices that you’re still in your nightgown. It’s light and flowy, similar to the clothes you used to wear when you were young. Hot stuffy dresses are what’s most popular now in women’s fashion and being a proper lady of good origins you do your diligence in following the fashion trends. Strangely though, the thought of your subtle acts of rebellion bring a smile to his face. It’s so subtle and detached from the main parts of society yet so much louder than you’ll ever realise.

He bets that your mother would be furious if she found that you were outside and alone with an unmarried man. Furious if you came back with the bottom of your dress soaked from the morning dew and rain.

You probably don’t care though.

Your attention is much better spent on the lake in front of you. (Satoru personally thinks that your attention would be even better spent on him.)

He doesn’t bother to look at the lake he’s already seen hundreds of times in his life.

This is where he and Suguru used to play pirates. Where he’d first been tossed into the lake when the two of them were horsing around and where he had crawled out of angrily. Where he’d caught his first frog and made his first (mud) painting.

This was the lake of his childhood that he loved oh so dearly.

But right now, he found that he’d rather look at you.

The baby fat you had on your cheeks back before he had left for Eton is gone. It makes you look more mature. Less like the girl that made fun of him and more into the woman that would send light teases his way. Makes you seem less like the girl who always carried around picture books and into a young woman that reads intellectual novels that dive into the human.

He’s a little sad. He had quite a fondness for the young girl that managed to make him mad with the single raise of an eyebrow. It’s almost like the loss of someone important to him. Someone he didn’t know that he would miss as much and a version of you that he would never get to say goodbye to.

But, he finds that he has a fondness for the you that’s sitting beside him now.

He wouldn’t go as far as saying that he likes this version more than the young child you but he would admit that this version was much more… exciting to be around. Almost like a mystery that he was working to solve.

A smile pulls at his lips when he notices a book in your lap.

“What’re you reading?” Satoru asks, pointing to the book in your lap.

You brush the cover of the book gently, “Pride and Prejudice.”

“Suguru read that book once.”

“Have you?”

“No. Besides, Suguru said it was just a boring romance novel for women anyways. Says nothing that we don’t already know.”

You smile as you nudge him playfully, “do you let Lord Suguru’s opinions dictate all of your own decisions, My Lord?”

“No,” Satoru pouts, “but I’ve never liked reading much anyways. It’s easier to let him do the reading first. He knows what I do and don’t like. Besides, I don’t want to waste my time reading something I wouldn’t even like.”

Finally, you turn to look at him. To the untrained eye it would be a look of indifference. But to Satoru, your self proclaimed childhood best friend, your expression is one of amusement. From the way your eyes crinkle in the corners slightly to how you sit up more straight ever so slightly and the subtle twitch of your lips. Plus, the most obvious and dead give away to anything, your eyes. They look at him, lingering on his face for a moment longer than they linger on anyone else's as you respond with a soft, “and what do you like to read, My Lord?”

“Comedies usually.”

“Like?”

“Twelfth Night.”

You raise a brow delicately, “Shakesphere?”

Satoru places a hand on his chest, feigning offence, “are you implying that you think I wouldn’t like the works of one of the greatest writers and minds of our time?”

“Oh, I’d never, my Lord,” you eyes crinkle in the corners, “I was simply surprised. Most men I speak with prefer something more contemporary like Wordsworth or perhaps something practical and sensible like a book on agriculture or architecture. They consider things like Shakesphere to be mere entertainment.”

“So then are you implying that you think I have the taste of a woman?”

“And who would you consider yourself akin to then, my Lord? Duke Ceasiro?”

Satoru makes a face.

You chuckle softly in response, “you must admit, the two of you share a certain resemblance.”

“I am insulted on every level, (Y/n).”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I am!” Satoru exclaims, waving his arms above his head, “I am most like the honourable Sebastian.”

“Ah yes, Viola’s twin brother.”

Satoru nods.

“Well, he’s certainly an opportunist.”

“Would you not marry a beautiful woman that you just met and is seemingly in love with you?”

You hum softly as you ponder on the idea.

Satoru remembers how he had dragged Suguru to the play house that day. He had originally gone because there was a particular woman that he wanted to promenade with after but had actually found the show to be quite enjoyable. Suguru was absolutely furious with him but even he had a few chuckles at some moments.

“What was your favourite part about Twelfth Night?” You ask, leaning against him.

“The love triangle.”

“Well, it certainly isn’t the traditional kind of love triangle.”

“A true love triangle, I’d say.”

“The kind you’d like to find yourself in?” You tease.

Satoru shrugs in response.

From where Satoru sat he could see a small group of birds gathering around. They reminded him a bit of the Ton. So easily swept up into a single moment and conversation without much consideration about the world around them. Much thought and consideration is never put into everything else that this world has to offer.

“What kind of stuff do you like to read?” Satoru asks.

You smile, “you mean apart from the book in my hand?” Satoru can tell from the way you lean back away from him with a gleam in your eyes that you’re teasing him.

So he decides to tease you back.

He leans in towards you with a grin, “you and I both know you’re only reading that because it’s popular. It’s not what you actually like to read.”

“And what do you think I like to read?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I knew the answer.”

“Alright, I’ll bite, Satoru.”

He beams brightly when you say his name.

“The last thing I read for my own enjoyment was, Thomas De Quincey’s, Confessions of an Opium Eater.”

Satoru’s jaw drops, “the drug addict poet?”

“Most writers struggle with addiction.”

“What do you like about De Quincey’s works?”

“He wrote quite a particularly thought provoking piece about the human mind. Looking into the subconscious.”

“Oh?”

“He writes, ‘dreams are the unconscious mind finishing the halted thoughts of the conscious.’”

“A Romantic for sure.”

You beam, “oh, most definitely.”

Satoru thinks that this is the first time he’s ever seen you smile in such a way. If he weren’t already sitting he would have fallen flat on the ground. His heart would have stopped in his chest and he likely would have fallen to the ground and died only then to be once again revived by your beauty.

He thinks that this is where humanity must have peaked. That there will never again be someone that looks as beautiful as you do when you’re smiling. That no one will ever hold such a place in his heart that you do.

He leans towards you with a lovesick smile, “I’m going to marry you.”

You cough a little, “excuse me?”

His smile doesn’t falter, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Why me?”

“You understand me.”

“Hm?”

“You see the world in a way that everyone else doesn’t and you see me for who I am. Not who everyone else thinks that I should be.”

“My Lord-”

“Satoru.” He corrects.

“Satoru,” you lean away, “don’t you think you’re being a little hasty? We’ve barely even had a full conversation since you came back from school.”

“And?”

“You barely know who I am.” You look hesitant, the mask you always wear slipping as if you’ve never worn it before.

He takes your hand before you can bolt off (he hopes that it comforts you the same way it comforts him), “I know that you understand my loneliness. You know how it feels like for the whole world to want you to be a certain way. You’ve perfected the way of living from the way you move to the smile on your face to be exactly what society expects of you.” He feels as though his heart is beating a million beats a minute.

Your expression shifts a little.

Going from hesistance -

- to surprise.

And then suddenly Satoru doesn’t know what it is that you’re exactly thinking right now. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this expression on you and it worries him a little. His heart is fluttering in anticipation.

Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever been in such an uncomfortable situation before.

Well… there was that one time where Suguru had hidden Satoru’s favourite riding helmet as payback for something stupid he said earlier. In an attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t bothered, Satoru had gone off with a different helmet and messed up almost everything. Nothing seemed right. His horse, even though it was his favourite steed that he had ridden since he was a boy, just wasn’t listening the way it usually did. He actually almost fell off his horse twice (and actually did fall off once while in the middle of getting on).

Yeah, Satoru thinks, this feeling is a little something like that.

“Satoru.” You hold his hand tightly.

“Hm?”

“Be here with me.”

“I am here.”

“Stay in the moment with me,” you say softly, “your mind keeps drifting elsewhere.”

Satoru’s heart flutters as he smiles down at you fondly, “okay.”

Yeah.

He’s most definitely falling in love with you.

No.

He has fallen in love with you.

He’s going to marry you.

Openly, fall in love.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Your writing is amazing!!! I’m so sorry to ask but I must, How would the RO’s or other characters react to the MC sacrificing themselves to protect them?

Hello,

Thank you for your kind words. 💙😊

Ooh, a rare ask with other characters besides the Ro's. I mean which is fair, since a lot of the other characters haven't really been thoroughly introduced yet.

Also, since it wasn't specified; I am assuming relationship stage with the RO's?

Cassandra: Would have survivors guilt and feel as if she should have been the one to die. She would not do anything stupid and live a more careful life because while she would like to be reunited with MC in death, she would never want their sacrifice to have been for nothing. Would close herself off from love for a very long time, would only maybe find love again in her old age with another person who also knows the pain of losing a lover when they were young.

Valeria: Would obviously be distraught, she would ask God a lot "why did MC have to die?". She would spend a lot of time in church and honestly, I could either see her becoming a sort of nun figure or meeting someone new at church years later and falling in love. She would name her first child after MC and never forget them.

Tomás: Ouch. Just ouch. He would never love again, he would grow old and bitter, towards everyone and everything. He would dwell on the memory of MC and wish he had died instead, I see him going through 'A Man Called Otto' type of journey. (Great movie btw, I highly recommend it.) He would want to end himself to be reunited by MC and while he is so mean to everyone around him, he constantly thinks back to all his time spent with MC. From the most mundane moments from the sweetest memories, he remembers everything and keeps all of MC's things. Would never remarry or even consider thinking about anyone romantically ever again.

-

Ludovica: Uh.... I feel so bad that I only see one outcome for my sweet baby. UNLESS you guys had a kid, Vica is following after MC very soon after they pass. She would only go on living if you guys had a kid because they would give her a reason to live, she couldn't leave them behind and knows they need her now more than ever. But she would almost never smile, all light is gone from her and while she loves her child with all her heart; very little happiness could ever reach her now.

Aurelio: Would mourn and become rather reclusive for a few years. He wouldn't be the playful flirtatious fool anymore, he has matured and grown rather melancholic. He would keep on, living on for MC's sake but he would be forever changed. No more parties, no more crazy stupid antics. He will become regular old gentleman and maybe marry again some day but he knows deep down in his heart that the love he had for MC will always be stronger than what he could possible ever feel for anybody else.

Elio: I said this in a previous ask but... MC's death would definitely start his villain arc. He finally feels so strongly towards someone and they go and die on him? Screw humanity, everything can burn for all he cares.

Bonus!

Mother: Guilt would eat her up inside, she was supposed to protect MC; they were supposed to be safe when they were with her. That's what she promised them all those years ago, how could she let then down this way? Her poor, sweet little one; she is so sorry. So, so very sorry.

(Traveler's is sort of written in her pov)

Traveler: Damn it. Damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen, I guess this is what happens when you take a chance and try to help out a inexperienced kid. You end up getting them killed. You should have known, known better. This is your fault. You are the reason they are dead, this poor kids blood is forever on your hands. I hope they haunt me for the rest on my life... they can join the party and at least never feel lonely.

[exy-shmexy]

TW: angst, depression, mental health, loneliness

Andrew finding himself completely alone in his apartment during his first year going pro. the sole idea of calling something his fucking with his mind.

He dropped Neil off at the airport a couple hours before. A hollowness already gnawed at his mind when he watched Neil walk away to go back to PSU and leave him alone, but now that night has fallen and everything around him is quiet, the hollowness grows rapidly into something debilitatingly stronger. He hates himself for having let himself grow attached to people, to things, to stability and the constant presence of others around him which constantly reminded him he had people he could rely on, no matter how hard he tried and ultimately failed to keep them at arm’s length.

He heads to bed without eating, having no energy to smoke either. He sleeps, but he wakes up the next day even more tired than before. He knows what it is, knows he should call Bee, but he doesn’t even have the strength for that. He tells himself it’s his new life, he doesn’t have to text anyone, doesn’t want to bother them.

Neil texts him every day. Andrew can barely find the energy to answer most of the time. The Foxes’ group chat pings too much too often. He mutes it indefinitely.

Weeks pass and Andrew’s responses become even more sporadic. He is convinced no one wants to hear from him anyway.

Neil is worried.

Andrew hates that Neil is worried.

Andrew wants to disappear. He wants everyone to forget about him as if he were never there in the first place.

One day when he forget once again to sustain his own basic needs, there is a knock at his door.

Andrew doesn’t move from his couch. No one should be there, it’s probably some asswipe who wants to sell him something he doesn’t need. He ignores it but the knock comes again, more aggressive this time.

Andrew’s temper flares up immediately. He gets up and swings the door open only to find his carbon copy staring back at him with anger burning bright in his eyes.

“Good to know you’re still fucking alive, you asshole,” Aaron snarls, letting himself inside Andrew’s flat uninvited.

He shouldn’t be here. It’s the middle of the week. Aaron has classes and lives five hours away with Katelyn now.

“Why are you here?”

Aaron looks this close to exploding at his face. “You haven’t answered your phone in five fucking days. I thought you had done something incredibly stupid.”

Andrew is stunned. He didn’t want anyone to think about him, he didn’t think his own family would worry so he let his phone’s battery die completely. He doesn’t feel bad, not exactly, but he hates the angry relief in Aaron’s face now that he sees he’s alive.

“You look like shit,” Aaron sneers. His twin looks tired too, either from his flight or med school, or with worry but Andrew doesn’t want to think about that now. “Josten is on his way too, just so you know.”

Andrew doesn’t want to admit it, but relief floods mercilessly through his veins at the idea that there are people who care enough about him to check on him despite him putting his distance.

He doesn’t thank Aaron for coming all the way here, but he doesn’t push him away the entire time he is at Andrew’s place either.

[f0point5]

You asked, and I answered.

Alright, buckle up folks here is my overanalyzed date possibilities list.

First, let’s list out everyone who has been a driver since Max joined in 2015. There are 46 of them (including temporary subs and those who didn’t finish seasons).

Now, let’s cut everyone who joined after 2021 as per your previous answer. Down to 41:

Lando Norris,Yuki Tsunoda, Lance Stroll, Mick Schumacher, Nikita Mazepin, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, Pierre Gasly, Esteban Ocon, Sergey Sirotkin, Nicholas Latifi, Pascal Werhlein, Carlos Sainz, Antonio Giovinazzi, Daniil Kvyat, Kevin Magnussen, Rio Haryanto, Stoffel Vandoorne, Felipe Nasr, Jolyon Palmer, Esteban Gutierrez, Will Stevens, Roberto Merhi, Sergio Perez, Marcus Ericsson, Brendon Hartley, Valtteri Bottas, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hulkenberg, Sebastian Vettel, Romain Grosjean, Lewis Hamilton, Robert Kubica, Nico Rosberg, Pastor Moldonado, Fernando Alonso, Felipe Massa, Kimi Raikkonen, and Jenson Button.

Age has to come in now. No one more than 10 years older. That leaves us 33 people:

Lando Norris,Yuki Tsunoda, Lance Stroll, Mick Schumacher, Nikita Mazepin, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, Pierre Gasly, Esteban Ocon, Sergey Sirotkin, Nicholas Latifi, Pascal Werhlein, Carlos Sainz, Antonio Giovinazzi, Daniil Kvyat, Kevin Magnussen, Rio Haryanto, Stoffel Vandoorne, Felipe Nasr, Jolyon Palmer, Esteban Gutierrez, Will Stevens, Roberto Merhi, Sergio Perez, Marcus Ericsson, Brendon Hartley, Valtteri Bottas, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hulkenberg, and Sebastian Vettel.

Then we can cut the REALLY irrelevant (aka people everyone forgets existed) drivers because she simply would never date one of them. Now we’re at 25 options:

Lando Norris, Yuki Tsunoda, Lance Stroll, Mick Schumacher, Nikita Mazepin, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, Pierre Gasly, Esteban Ocon, Nicholas Latifi, Carlos Sainz, Antonio Giovinazzi, Daniil Kvyat, Kevin Magnussen, Stoffel Vandoorne, Felipe Nasr, Sergio Perez, Marcus Ericsson, Brendon Hartley, Valtteri Bottas, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hulkenberg, and Sebastian Vettel.

Let’s cut people based on whose vibes would NEVER work with her (and Estie Bestie because he doesn’t work with Max so by extension her). Down to 15 options:

Lando Norris, Lance Stroll, Mick Schumacher, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Max Verstappen, Alex Albon, Pierre Gasly, Nicholas Latifi, Carlos Sainz, Kevin Magnussen, Stoffel Vandoorne, Marcus Ericsson, Daniel Ricciardo, and Sebastian Vettel.

Now we can cut Max and Mick. So 13 options.

Then we can cut some for not being willing to make a move or not interested. Which leaves us 10 options:

Lando Norris, Lance Stroll, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Alex Albon, Pierre Gasly, Nicholas Latifi, Carlos Sainz, Stoffel Vandoorne, and Marcus Ericsson.

Now, I think we can cut Alex and George because I don’t think they would get along. So we have 8 left. So we need to consider Lando, Pierre, Carlos, Lance, Charles, Latifi, Vandoorne, and Ericsson. All could vibe IMO.

One date with Lando. I know they’re friends now but I could see him making a move when he realized Max wasn’t before a mutual friend zoning occurred.

Pierre and Carlos would both be ballsy enough to ask her out and I think she would consider a date with either of them. Both are former Max teammates too so they could’ve gotten close then. Both kinda cocky.

Lance is one of my personal favorites. He’s funny, kinda fiesty at times. I don’t think she would care about the nepo aspect and he’s friends with Mick so the intro is there. Plus we’ve seen the pic of her and Lance so we know they’re at least casual friends.

Charles could work too. Casual with Max, not over the top, good driver. No obvious reason against him.

Latifi is funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, and could’ve been a single date.

Vandornne is also Dutch. Could be a pro there for them. Maybe met him a bit growing up because of it. Don’t know enough about his vibes to totally rule him out. He’s a Formula E champ, which would be a pro.

Ericsson is also there. Does decent in Indy which is a plus. I just have a feeling it’s not him for truly no real reason.

My guesses at which I’m order or likelihood is:

Lando

Lance

Pierre

Vandornne

Carlos

Latifi

Charles

Ericsson

I feel like I have to have at least 1 of the 3 in those final 10. I’d like to think all 3 but there could be a curevball in there idk. There’s also a shot in potentially missing someone in my original 46.

- 🤠

THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE IS THE COMMITMENT WE NEED.

Little cowboy person, I salute you 🫡

That vibe cut was brutal lol

You do indeed have at least 1 correct ;)

The math is 99.999% mathing

I LOVE THIS COMMITMENT LEVEL THOUGH. I’m getting all choked up

[saulocept]

in the realm of hungry ghosts

pairing: simon “ghost” riley/f!reader

rating: m

summary: Guilt sits in the hollows of his ribcage, gnaws and eats away at him. But he’s in luck, or maybe he isn’t, because you’re here to keep his mind off it, make him forget.

notes: spiritual successor to bloodsport; not really a direct sequel, but events from the other parts were hinted at some points – not in detail, so you can basically skip and read this as a stand-alone lol

if you’re however, interested in reading the whole thing, here are links to the other parts: bloodsport (1); all the time, i’ll know (2); a change of heart (3).

also: mild spice ahead - nothing too explicit or detailed but it’s still there

and uh. anyway. if you’re reading this far, thanks. stay cringe xoxo :)

He’s careful when he leads you back to your room, holding you like you’re something fragile. He isn’t used to it, being this gentle, tender; he hasn’t even realized he’s capable of it until now, when he’s placing you down on your bed, trying not to disturb you, or injure you further.

You stir a little, and a quiet groan escapes your lips. He murmurs a curse under his breath, moves a little slower, tries not to panic. He hasn’t hurt you at all, has he? You grow quiet once again, and he closes his eyes, breathes out a sigh of relief. Slowly, he sits on the edge of your bed, takes a moment to stare at you, drinking you in.

This close, you look awful, terrible. He could see the cuts on your cheek: angry, red lines that he knows would leave scars later. There are bruises on your arms, your neck, looking almost black in the darkness of the evening. Tender for now, though he knows for sure how much they’ll hurt later.

And then there it is: that red line running from your collarbone then disappearing down the inside of your shirt, long enough that he can’t see where it ends. Deep too, judging from the dried blood gathered around it.

He’d been there, done that. It’s not the first time he had come back looking like this, but nothing’s ever been this serious. Or scary. Most of the time, it had always been minor injuries – quick to dismiss, easy to brush off, but you had always been stubborn, insisting on treating him yourself: cleaning his injuries, making sure they’re not infected. Typical, he thinks absently, for a doctor to behave. Expected, too. Maybe all doctors or like this, or maybe you just like to be thorough. Either way, he doesn’t mind it.

 But this isn’t the case this time. Guilt sits in the hollows of his ribcage, lingers even as the hour grows late, as the night darkens. It grows teeth, gnaws and tears at him, refusing to let go. It’s bitter, it’s heavy, it’s all the things he wishes he could leave behind.

He should’ve done more, tried harder. Moved quicker, faster. He should’ve guessed what they’re going to do, what you’re going to do. It had been chaos out there, with everything happening quickly and all at once, but he should’ve known better, known from the start that it was an ambush all along, a trap to lure him in.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t get caught in the middle of it, and this wouldn’t have happened. You would sit here, both of you sharing a drink, tired out of your minds, but still alright. Laughing.

But he knows you would’ve done it regardless. You’ve always taken care of everyone, him most of all, even at the expense of your own health. A true hypocrite, though at this point, no one ever really practices what they preach. He’s learned it from the best, after all.

And now, you’re here, in the spaces between dream and waking. From the corners of his eyes, he watches you stir, your eyes slowly fluttering open. You don’t look too good, but you’re still here, alive, breathing. Here.

You turn your head, look around you, familiarizing yourself with your surroundings, like you did the first time. And then your gaze is landing on him; recognition flashes in your eyes, and all of a sudden, he feels like a deer caught in the headlights, uncertain of what you’ll say, how you’ll react.

He thinks you might be angry at first, irritated, but then you smile at him and the guilt comes back to him, tenfold. Crushing. He turns his head, looks away, pretends he’s found something interesting on the wall, the windows.

“Hey.” Your voice is hoarse, raspy. Weak, like it hurts you to speak. He opens his mouth, tries to quiet you, but you’re not having any of it, shaking your head and pressing on, always so stubborn, even now. He’d laugh, he thinks, if the situation were any different. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours,” he replies, tries to keep his voice flat, emotionless, like he didn’t just let you walk to your death, or something close to it.

“And you were with me the whole time?”

He’s quiet for a second. He shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Yes.” He still refuses to look at you, or meet your eyes. “They needed someone to watch you.”

You nod, leave it at that. “How’s everyone else?”

“Alive,” he says, shrugging. “Fine, mostly. Some got injured, but nothing too worse.”

“Good,” you say, nodding your head and smiling. “That’s good. I’d hate it if anyone else were injured.”

He turns his head, stares at you for a long time in silence. Watching you. There’s an itch in his hands, his fingers; a part of him wants to touch you, brush the stray hair away from your face, feel the warmth of your cheek against his palm, but he knows he can’t, knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Look,” you say, sighing in exasperation, like you already know where this conversation’s going, “I couldn’t just let you get stabbed.”

He blinks, startled back to the present at the sound of your voice. “I know.”

“Good,” you say, giving him a smile. Wide and cheerful, as if nothing bad had happened, as if you weren’t just on the brink of death a few hours ago. “I thought you were here to lecture me.”

He’s quiet, doesn’t say anything. He’s back to staring at you again. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t know where to start, or how to begin.

You’re the first one to speak, the first to break the silence. You stare back at him, and there’s an obvious concern in your eyes, worry – something he knows he doesn’t deserve. “How are you doing?”

He stares at you blankly, as if you’ve suddenly grown another head. It’s the last thing he expects to come from you, and even now, the question seems out of place, especially with your current situation.

“Idiot,” he says, though there’s no venom in his voice, no bite in his words. He laughs drily, tries to play along. “I’m not the one who willingly got stabbed and lived.”

“I know.” You grin back at him, flexing your fingers as if to test that they’re still properly working. “But I’ll live.”

He nods, leaves it at that. There’s silence again, heavy and uncomfortable. He opens his mouth, closes it again. He feels like he should say something, but even now, the words still elude him, slipping far out of his reach before he has a chance to say them. He lowers his head, stares at the sheet beneath him, slightly creased now by his weight, his movements. He could feel your gaze on him the whole time, burning a hole through him, but he remains stubborn, steadfast, refusing to look at you.

“It’s not your fault.” It comes all of a sudden, surprising. Unexpected. Slowly, he lifts his head, looks up at you, searches your eyes for answers, for lies. He doesn’t find any. You look as sincere as you sound, and it makes him feel even worse. Guiltier.

He presses his lips together. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, strange; he almost doesn’t recognize himself this time. “I know.”

“Do you?”

He stares at you again, doesn’t speak for a long time. He exhales a breath. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving him a tentative smile. He doesn’t return it, but it doesn’t dampen your cheer nonetheless, or stop you from trying, “The fact that I’ve known you for a while?”

It’s true, and he doesn’t have anything to say that. You’ve known each other for a while – a few months at most, perhaps even longer. You’re friends, in a way, though he’s aware of how loosely he’s using the term. You’d slept together a few times, more than he can count on his fingers, but he’s trying not to think about it. You’d spent more time together, talking about everything and nothing on his hours off, and though he could never say it out loud, he’s grown fond of you.

Silence again. He lowers his head, stares at the sheets beneath him. He feels like he should apologize, say something comforting, reassuring. It’s what anyone else would’ve done if they were in his place. It’s what you would’ve done if the situation’s reversed. You’re friends, aren’t you? Or something close to it, anyway. It’s the least he could do.

And yet the words lay heavy on his tongue, thick and splintered. There isn’t much to do except drown himself in this silence, waiting for something, even if he doesn’t know what. A miracle, maybe, or something close to it, greater.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you say after a moment. Your voice is quiet, serious. Gentle. Slowly, he looks up to find you smiling at him, warm and reassuring. He quickly lowers his head, stares at his hands, his clenched fists. “I was the one who made that choice. You didn’t force me. No one forced me.”

“I know,” he says again, because it’s the truth, and he can’t think of anything else to say in return. He still feels like he should apologize, still feels like he has to say something else, make you feel better, because the truth is that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him, but the words are lost on him.

And so, he remains quiet, presses his lips together, stares at his hands like he could will them to do something. But then you’re saying his name, his real one, not the one he’d told you to call him the first time you’d met. You’ve never really used it outside your office, when the two of you are alone from prying eyes (force of habit, you’d told him once, when you’d seen the look he gave you, though he wasn’t stupid enough to guess the truth), and it sounds strange, unfamiliar. Coaxing, but there’s gentleness in it, too, different from the way you’d say his name before, and he hates it, really, hates how he feels himself grow weak at the sound of it, hates how badly he wants to hear it again.

There’s a rustle somewhere in front of him. He looks up just in time to see you shifting, wiggling on the bed to close the distance between you, leaning in, reaching out to touch his cheek, your palm flat against the material of his mask. Resting. The closest thing to a caress he’ll ever get.

He sucks in a breath, quiet as he stares at you, watching. Waiting. You’re staring at him, searching his eyes for answers, something. He doesn’t know what, but he feels his resolve crumbling, anyway, bit by bit, until he’s giving in, closing his eyes and leaning against your touch. He hears the sound of your laugh – soft and sweet, mirthful, and everything in him breaks.

He opens his eyes, looks at you. The apology’s there, sits on the tip of his tongue, but he still can’t bring himself to say it. He doesn’t know why, and it doesn’t help that you’re already staring back at him: your smile gentle, your gaze warm. He can’t remember if you’ve ever stared at him like this before, and he feels strange, feels that familiar ache in his chest, feels it tenfold. Something’s missing, he thinks, but he can’t figure out what it is.

There’s a part of him that wants to look away, but he can’t. This close, he could see the flicker in your eyes, every expression you make. How your lip curls up in mischief, and how your eyes are alight with something akin to mischief, narrowing as you take him in. Slowly, you raise your other hand, playful, he’s almost certain of it, but he holds his breath, anyway, waits for the slap that never comes.

Instead, he watches you lean in, press a kiss against his cheek, lingering for a second before finally pulling away. He can’t feel it, not really, but it surprises him nonetheless, tears a quiet gasp out of his throat – something he isn’t quite sure if you’d noticed.

“Thank you,” you say after a second, pulling back and away from him, lowering your hand, resting it against your lap. He misses the feel of you already, how close the two of you had been just moments ago, but he keeps quiet, doesn’t remark on it.

Instead, he clears his throat, asks the first question that crosses his mind. “What for?”

“Keeping watch over me, for one,” you reply, shrugging. You give him another smile, then look away from him, staring at your hands, fiddling with your fingers, like you’re trying to find something to do. “Making sure I was okay, for another. I don’t know, I could think of a few things.”

He doesn’t know what to say that, so he nods again, accepts it quietly. Another moment of silence passes between you; he’s running out of things to say lately, the right ways to say them. Normally, he would’ve hated this silence, the kind that sits between you now, sharp and heavy, filled with all the things he wants to say, but won’t – couldn’t.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” you say after a while, interrupting him from his thoughts. He lets out another breath, shifts a little on the bed. You’re further now than ever, more distant, and he hates it, doesn’t like it, but he remains where he is, unable to move, do anything.

“I know,” he says again. It’s all he could think to say lately. Even now, he’s not sure if he actually believes it or if he’s just saying it because it’s the first thing he can think of – an automatic response that’s been drilled into him from the very start.

“Do you, really?” you ask, looking up at him. There’s defiance in your gaze, the closest thing to anger he’s ever seen, and it’s directed at him. He doesn’t understand why.

“What does it matter?”

You scoff, roll your eyes. It’s the first time he’s seen you like this, and he’d find it amusing, intriguing if he isn’t at the tail-end of it, confused as all fuck. “Because it’s not,” you say, like it’s simple, like he should’ve known this already. “And I refuse to watch you brood about this all day.”

He’s quiet for a while, staring at you, still mulling your words over in his head when you say his name again, softer now, the earlier edge gone like it’s never there at all. He blinks, curious as he waits, and you give him a smile.

“Here,” you say, when you see the look he gives you. You shift a little closer, moving toward him once more, enough that your knees are touching. He sucks in another breath; he feels the warmth of your skin amid the fabric of his clothes, more alive than before, and it makes him feel strange, unfamiliar. He’d felt like this before, he’s sure of it, burned with this same fire in his chest, but even now, he can’t give a name to it, or even recognize it for what it really is.

Still, he tries not to show it. He tilts his head to the side, watches you curiously. He’s still not sure what you want to do, but he doesn’t move to stop you or push you away. You smile at him, a little embarrassed, a bit shy – but the light in your eyes is defiant, determined. You keep going. He still doesn’t do anything but wait, quiet as he observes you.

You press even closer, slotting yourself between his legs, and closing the distance between you. You look up at him, and he sees the sudden uncertainty flashing in your eyes, the question lingering in the air long before you have the chance to say it. “Is this okay?”

Yeah, he thinks, more than okay. His mouth feels dry, and his tongue’s heavy against his mouth. There’s a split second where he can’t speak, paralyzed by all this. Even now, it feels like a fever dream – something that shouldn’t be real, happening. He takes a second to drink you in, lets his eyes roam over your face, searching. There’s no way this is real, he thinks, no way this isn’t a figment of his imagination – something to get him through this night, the long hours.

But it is. He knows it, by instinct, by heart. It propels him forward, drives him to act. He could’ve given you a nod, he thinks, and it would’ve done exactly the same thing, but he’s moving before he could stop himself – an impulse he knows he would never let himself live down after. But it doesn’t matter now, because it’s too late to stop.

He wraps one arm around your waist, tugs you forward, closer, until there’s zero distance between you. You’re flushed against his chest, and he traps you in, refuses to let you go. You look up at him, blinking, startled. He doesn’t even expect it himself, but he’s trying not to think about it.

You don’t let him linger in it for too long, like you’re afraid he’ll change his mind, push you away. You reach out, pat his cheek a few times, smiling; he stares at you with a narrowed gaze, but before he could think about what you’re going to do, you’re already pushing him down the bed, pinning him with your weight, straddling his legs.

Bold move, he thinks, though he doesn’t comment on it. He could easily push you off him, but he remains where he is, doesn’t move. Instead, he looks up and stares at you, waiting, curious. There’s a question that sits in the forefront of his mind, and he swallows the lump that forms in his throat, opens his mouth to speak.

“Aren’t you…?” he begins, pausing as he tries to find the right words, but you shake your head, refusing to let him finish.

“I’m okay.” You give him another smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, he can tell, but he can’t help but feel worried anyway. He could tell where this is going; he’s not fucking stupid, and it’s not the first time this has happened between you. But it’s the first time you’ve been sober, this serious, without anything hanging over your head.

And he wants it, wants you, the way he did all those times ago, when he was drunk out of his mind, stumbling in the dark and falling into your bed, melting into you. But still. He stops, stares at you, shakes his head, uncertain. It would be unfair, he thinks, to follow his heart, do whatever he wants when you’re still hurt, injured all because of him.

He opens his mouth, tries to protest, but you’re already shaking your head, cutting him off and smiling. Slowly, you lean down, lips grazing his neck, placing kisses here and there, and it’s effective, it’s distracting because every other thought is quick to fade from his mind, and he can’t think of anything else, can’t focus on anything else. He says your name, whispers it in the dark, but even now, he’s not sure if he wants you to stop, or to continue.

You lick a stripe against the shell of his ear. Your breath is warm, and your voice, when you speak is quiet, tempting, enough to make him think twice. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He swallows. The right thing to do would be to say no, he knows; he can’t put too much pressure on you, not when you’re still sore, your injuries fresh, bruises tender, but he can’t. You press another kiss against his neck, chaste and sweet, and it’s unfair, he thinks, because now he can’t even think of saying no, or refusing you.

“No,” he rasps, and it’s almost a struggle to say it, because he knows it’s wrong, knows he shouldn’t. “But you’re—”

“I’m okay.” Your voice is steady, and he could almost hear the smile in your voice. “I promise.”

He still feels like he should say something, protest, anything, but he finds it hard to focus when you’re making your move again, eager to keep him quiet, trailing a hand down his chest, fingers brushing against the bulge forming in his pants.

He shifts a little on the bed, then hisses under his breath, muttering a curse. It’s a wrong move, he knows, because now he just feels you even more. Desire sits in the hollows of his ribcage, beating like a second heart. He can’t deny it any longer, can’t resist it now that you seem to have already caught on, realize what’s going on.

You smile at him, your eyes alight with mischief. A siren’s call, he thinks absently, though the thought is soon lost when you shift a little, grinding your hips against his. “Fuck,” he whispers, tipping his head back. He looks up at you, meets your eyes, then nods: “Okay.”

-

You smile at him, pat his cheek. The glimmer in your eyes is still present, brighter now than he remembers. He stares at you, curious, though he doesn’t need to wait long to find his answer. A sharp hiss slips out of him when he feels you stroke him through the fabric of his pants, light and teasing, fingers trailing up and away before the feeling can fester into something else.

He stares at you, narrows his eyes into a glare. Your only response is a smile, playful, knowing. Still, you don’t make him wait any further. Quickly, you work his zipper down, then grab hold of his cock, brushing your thumb teasingly against the tip. Your touch feels familiar, though not quite unwelcome. You’ve done this before, been in this exact same situation once, and it would’ve been amusing sight if the look in your eyes weren’t so serious. Determined, as though you really want to distract him, make him forget. It’s moot, he thinks absently, because the guilt will come back, the way it always does, but it’s so easy to fall into this with you, enough that he could just ignore everything else, drown it all out.

He says your name again, and even now, he still can’t tell what he wants from you. To stop, maybe, or get you moving, do something else other than this, whatever form of torture it might be. You give him a knowing look, then press on, bolder than you’ve been before.

Your fingers are hot against him, moving, and though you’re not rough, you’re not gentle either. It feels right, he thinks, to have you touch him like this, and he squeezes his eyes shut, says your name again. It’s pathetic, he thinks, to be reduced into a mess, desperate to chase a feeling, and he hates it, hates how quickly he’s falling apart, hates how he couldn’t think of anything else but the heat of your hand and the feel of your touch, how expertly you remember him, knowing what he likes, how he likes it, and giving it all to him without anything in exchange.

He bucks his hips against your hand, eager, hungry. It’s almost uncharacteristic, he thinks, but it doesn’t matter now. Heat coils in the pit of his stomach, grows tighter with each of your touches: quick, fervent – like you want to see him fall apart. The look in your eyes what does him in: that eagerness that seems almost like hunger from a distance, wolfish and predatory, and all too soon, the feeling’s crumbling down on him, washes over him fast, hard. Like a riptide, sudden enough that there’s no time to warn, only chase.

A choked noise escapes him – halfway between a groan, the sound of your name. There’s thrumming against his ears, and there’s a split second where his surroundings are dulled, muted. He’s only vaguely aware of everything that’s going on, that familiar rush somewhere inside him, and how he’s spilling into your hand, staining your fingers.

And all too soon, it’s over, and he’s catching his breath, chest rising and falling as he searches for you in the dark, meeting your eyes. You’re staring back at him, bold, unafraid; you don’t look awkward, like the way you did before, and it’s strange because he’s not used to it, isn’t sure how to feel about it. Briefly, he wonders if you’d hit your head somewhere, too.

You’re smiling at him, looking quite pleased, and he hates that he’s the one who feels embarrassed, hates that he’s the one who seems so uncertain about everything. You open your mouth, say his name, and he narrows his eyes, certain now of what you’re going to do.

“Get some rest,” he says, cutting you off long before the words could leave your lips. He’s not sure what you’re going to say, though he has a vague idea, and he doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to talk about it.

You nod, accepting his answer easily enough, and he nods back, because he can’t think of anything else to say. There’s only nothing but silence after that, nothing left to do except stare at you, watch as the smile on your lips slowly disappears. You look serious again, but it’s different this time, because he can’t read your expression, can’t tell what you’re thinking. It makes him slightly nervous, wondering if he did something wrong, said something wrong, ruined whatever friendship he’d managed to form with you (if it could be even called that) these last few months, even if he won’t ever admit it out loud.

Slowly, with some hesitation, he reaches out, touches your cheek, pats it a few times. It’s a sudden gesture, surprising even to him, because even now, he still doesn’t get where the urge comes from, or how he’s managed to be this gentle, this tender.

He’s not the only one, it seems, because a second later, you’re blinking, looking up at him with obvious confusion, like it’s the last thing you’re expecting him to do, and he almost snorts, because all this time, it’s what he’s always believed about himself, too.

“Good night,” he says, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever know what to say if you ask him why he’s doing what he’s doing, “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

You nod again, quiet for a second. He thinks you might say something else, but he doesn’t wait for you to figure it out. He walks out of the door, pulls it shut behind him, leaves you alone in the dark.

[cakepoppresent]

Can You Fight?

Su: Leaving so soon Little man?

Grayson: Oh... yeah I don't want to stay here anymore. I'm leaving with my parents. They just went to get my discharge stuff sorted

Vaughn: Don't stress too much Grayson, things are going to get better

Grayson: Thanks Vaughn, Veronica is actually downstairs with everyone else. She's been really nervous, I'm sure she will be happy to see you

Vaughn: Alright, I'll head out. Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything

Su: Will you be going back to the dorms?

Grayson: No...my parents have an apartment in the city I'll be there till the semester is over

Su: Are you doing okay?

Grayson: Not really...I thought about what you said and I told Gideon we should take a break

Su: A break?

Su heart explodes with excitement, its happening holy fuck its happening. The universe created this perfect moment. He won't let go of this chance. "Its for the best Grayson, you have to think of your sisters. You wouldn't forgive yourself if something happened to them"

Grayson: I know I know I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to go home either...can you take me out?

Su's head is actually going to explode "Yeah...I'll take you out I'll help you forget. I'll take you anywhere you want to go"

Grayson: Okay...let me talk to my mom and dad"

Brayden and Blair walk in at this moment noticing the closeness between Su and Grayson. Brayden steps forward first "Grayson?"

Grayson: Mom, Dad this is Su, you met him last Winterfest. He brought me to the hospital. I didn't want to go home right now, he's taking me out

Blair: I don't know if that is a good idea, honey. I think it's best if we head home, you've been through something traumatic

Grayson: Mooom!! I don't want to sit at home. I'll be fine I won't stay out too late

Su: I'll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Reeves. You can trust me"

Grayson: So it's settled! Su and I are leaving I'll be home later tonight! Let's go, Su!" Grayson drags Su out of the room and they are gone in an instant

Brayden: I don't like that boy

Blair: You don't like anyone

Brayden: Let's go. I need to speak with Gideon

Blair: Don't scare the poor boy

Vaughn: Hey Princess. Hey Sams. How are you guys holding up

Veroinca: This is the worst! It was obviously Alaia and Gideon's grandparents. I'm going to find her an-

Vaughn: And do what? Beat her up? Can you fight?

Veronica: Well...no...but"

Vaughn: Let's put some trust in Gideon. I'm sure he is handling it

Sams: Vaughn is right Veronica. Let's not make things worse. I believe in Gideon. He has been in love with Grayson since forever.

Veroinca: Can't I at least slap her

Sams: No!

Veronica: Tsk...If I see her I'm slapping her

Vaughn's reply is cut short when he gets tackled from behind

Xaiver: Vaughn! I missed you! it's so boring in Windenburg

Vaughn: Oh man, You're getting heavier. What are they feeding you over there?

Xavier: Let's go out! I have so much to tell you! My mom said I could stay for the summer

Vaughn: Let's all go out. My treat

Xavier: I want steak!

Vaughn: What's a little dude like you doing eating steak

Xavier: How else am I supposed to grow strong and big

Vaughn: Whatever you say Little Dude

Previous - Next

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

So I'm making a Smiling Critters AU that's more based off the cartoon versions of them and not Poppy Playtime canon

It's called the "Smile Everyday AU" and the whole prompt is what if the Smiling Critters were close growing up but grew apart after their teen years, they all grew up as adults with perfect jobs, live their lives normally, have romances, but obviously senses something is wrong until they reunited. Will drama ensue? Will the past effect the present? Why are the dreams Catnap's been having change so much?

It takes place in a fictional 2015-2016 where the gang are around 26-27 at least (each are born in 1989 since according to lore that's when the Smiling Critters first debut) and I'll share Catnap and Dogday's profiles first and let the others join later/if someone ask enough

First off, the leader Dogday!

He's a pure-bred American Cocker Spaniel

He was the youngest in his litter and doesn't have much a great relationship of his family, especially his siblings who thinks he acts like he's better than them after he got famous, but he pretends everything's okay and can't stand up for himself when they ask for too much or talk bad about him in another room

He's basically Mr. Peanut Butter from BoJack Horseman

In high school he was part of the popular squad due to his personality, his energetic works on the field, and just cause everyone saw he has a bright future ahead of him. But the sad side-effect of this was he couldn't spend time with all the Smiling Critters or notice if something was wrong

Became an actor after collage and won the hearts of many

Despite his good features and being a walking green flag, he struggles with relationships wince he can't find someone who he connects with. They either like him cause he's famous or rich or that he's too sweet and fun and he struggles to show his other sides/interests which leads to break-ups

Lives in a luxury home by the beach

Has a decent work out schedule

Out of the rest, he does wear his old charm symbol everyday for the most part, but does cover it up so it won't get damaged

Has depression but never talks about it to anyone

Fashion Aesthetic;

Theme Songs;

Next is Catnap:

He's a Bombay Cat and Ocicat mixed breed

He practically lived alone by the time he was 11 since he mother was hardly around

Is selectively mute thanks to this being canon-

Only Dogday knew what he was saying when he's not speaking

Was deemed the "weird" kid in school and was harshly bullied by a lot of the students. Dogday and the other Smiling Critters didn't really notice which hurt him even more and began to isolate himself more

He dropped out of collage after his mental health got so much worst and pretty much was the first to drift away from his friend group cause he felt they didn't care for him...

Be became an author of a well known Murder Thriller book series called "The Red Gas" which got him a pretty big famous title from it

He constantly gets asked to join interviews but he refuses which only adds more to the "mysterious author" persona people view him as

As a fun hobby, he secretly has a night time podcast and nobody knows it's him since he really barely talks anyways, he mostly reads poems and stuff to his viewers to help them sleep

He smokes

He suffers with anxiety and depression and takes medications for it

He has his charm symbol but hides it away in his penthouse apartment, wanting to forget but can't bring himself to throw it away

Sometimes when he can't sleep, he hugs his necklace

He began to have some weird dreams during collage of some weird monster, not knowing some of his dreams are prophecies

Fashion Aesthetic:

Theme Songs:

This AU is still in the making with the story being made, debating if I should add magical elements but I'll leave the whole prophesies with Catnap even if I chose not to add the magical elements. But if I were they would basically have a super hero like plot of "you're the chosen one, here's your powers, have crisis" but I ONLY WANT IT SO I CAN HAVE DOGDAY BE RAPUNZEL AND CATNAP HAVING A ANGSTY MOMENT OF HIS POWERS BEING SCARY!

There's isn't much I can say about this AU for right now but I will update yall whenever I can or if things are asked! Also their designs will be fixed/altered once I draw them all out!

[dirtytransmasc]

I agree with your take on Spider. Like no one shits on kids with absent fathers who still desperately crave a relationship or connection with them, and that's what it is with Spider and Quaritch. (+ all the other stuff)

Like the Sully kids refer to Spider as their brother, but it really isn't till the end that we really see Jake refer to Spider as his son, and it's clear that Neytiri doesn't view Spider as her kid. Spider actively hides from Neytiri in that one scene, it's clear that he thinks that Neytiri would go after him in that moment, and Jake does refer to Spider as a 'stray cat' in the beginning. We also can't forget that no once did either Jake or Neytiri really ever mention going back for Spider or try to actively rescue him once they find out that Spider is traveling with Quaritch.

It's also clear that none of the scientists that remained on Pandora ever really became any sort of real parental figure for Spider. They took care of them, yes, but they seem to do it out of a sense of responsibility since they can't send him back to Earth.

I really don't blame Spider for saving Quaritch, he's a kid that confronted with leaving his father to die and this is after Quaritch showed that he actually cared about Spider and viewed him as a son. (Letting Kiri go to stop Neytiri.)

exactly.

I can say as a kid with more then one shitty father figure, I would have probably done the same, no matter the circumstance. spider reacted on a childish impulse to save his father, to save the man who showed him mercy, who was kind to him, who saved his life.

I don't blame neytiri for her feelings towards spider, he is a physical reminder of all the pain she went through and u til what happened with Kiri there's no sign she was every anything more then indifferent to his face (behind closed doors is another story, but she did him the decency of avoiding rather then actively hating) but she played a huge role in how he reacted to quaritch, how desperate he was for connection for love and parental attention. I have a little less sympathy for Jake, he knew what it was like to be human in a na'vi world, he knew what it was like to be different (even human Jake knew that, knew it very well, spider is a human in a world not built for him, by definition, spider was disabled and Jake did little actually aid him). spider was strung between worlds, families, morals, and decisions no child should have to pick between. I say he did his damn best to try and please everyone and himself.

I also think people have to take into consideration, he never grew cold. that boy was faced with social isolation, losing his parents, being abused (by human quaritch as a little kid and then later again in life he was more emotionally used and abused by most of the people around him), neglect, being tortured, seeing his father hurt the na'vi and the tulkans, losing a brother, almost being killed by neytiri, and more (I feel like I'm leaving something out, but I can't remember it) and never once does he grow cold. he feels so much every time, has so much empathy, feels so much guilt and compassion. yet he never turns to violence, he is one of few characters who avoids bloodshed (he fucked up helping quaritch, and you can feel his guilt when he realizes what he's allowed to happen.) unless it's to protect his family (he's the last to put down his bow during the kidnapping) and even then it always feels like more of a bluff and front, like his raising his hackles and bristling up in defense. I think him saving quaritch shows he is more then capable of mercy and empathy, but also that he is the most capable of forgiveness and accepting change which will be important as this story continues (listen, ai know it's unlikely, but I'm rooting for the whole, quaritch connecting with eywa and reaching some sort of enlightenment and getting redeemed plotline, cause I like sappy shit like that) cause having someone so willing to forgive, to be hopeful that people can change to be the bridge between the sully family and whoever's to come is vital, cause the Sully's are only going to get colder as they lose more and more. they need that hopeful innocence to keep them a float.

[cornertheculprit]

man the games really never explore how traumatising that must've been for Phoenix (and maya). Like there aren't many instances I can think of where someone very close to the victim actually sees the body while they're still warm (closest I can think is athena? But I'm probably forgetting some). Like at that time in his life Phoenix had no one in his corner but Mia (and Larry? Kinda) And then she was just gone. And he saw her body!! Mia left the village and was probably also the only person Maya had that was looking out for her, bc Morgan definitely wasn't. and i think it's never really shown how traumatising that would've been for both of them. I never really see it in fanworks either? mia was his mentor and her big sister. she was someone who looked after them both... for a moment when she was gone they had nobody until they had each other. Augh

SERIOUSLY like okay one of the first things we really learn about maya is that literally everyone in her immediate family had gone and left her behind:

Phoenix: What about your family?

Maya: I only had my sister. My father died when I was very young. And I don't know where my mother is.

Phoenix: (Don't know...? So she could still be alive?)

[...]

Maya: About fifteen years ago, our family was involved in an... incident. There was a man, and he... he... He ruined our mother's life.

Phoenix: ("Ruined"...?)

Maya: After that, she disappeared. Several years after that, my sister announced she would "become a lawyer" and she left the mountain.

Phoenix: ... So, you live by yourself?

Maya: Yes. I've gotten used to it. Oh, also... I had to become independent, or I would lose my E.S.P.!

Phoenix: (I feel bad for her, all by herself up on that mountain...)

and of course as we know from justice for all, morgan is...morgan. and pearl is just a little kid, and morgan seems to do her damndest to keep her separate from anyone and anything so that pearl will listen to her and only her. mia really WAS the only one truly looking out for maya in any way, shape or form, even if she'd left her behind as well (at least she kept in contact! and maya canonically went down to the city to visit her sometimes. it's better than being wholly abandoned, at the very least). and phoenix!!!! it's mentioned in turnabout memories that phoenix does have friends in college (plural) but when we get to aa1 it really doesn't seem like he has any friends other than larry, who is...larry. and who phoenix seems to grow extremely discontent with following the events of turnabout goodbyes to the point where he seems to barely be able to tolerate him in aa3. and there could be many for reasons for phoenix's seemingly giant drop in friends, one being that he got accused of murder and rumors can be the death of anyone's social standing in a school environment and another being that he was studying LAW and had no fucking time for social connections other than one flaky friend who dropped in and out of his life seemingly at whim. or both! or neither! who knows!

but you're so right is the thing! the picture that is painted at the beginning of aa1 is that mia really was the only person in maya and phoenix's corner at that time and for that time frame between them discovering mia's body and phoenix promising maya he wouldn't abandon her they literally had no one else. they walked in on mia's body practically moments after her death and for a second there they were both truly alone. and mia was close enough to the both of them that she realized that and so she leaves maya a note that says: "take care of phoenix for me." and then down the line she looks at phoenix and asks him "...watch over her, will you, phoenix?" and phoenix says "of course." like it's not even a question. of course he'll look after her.

and the thing about aa3 is!! it doesn't explicitly have phoenix start saying things like "i blame myself for not getting there in time to save mia" because...it has godot to do that for him. godot IS very much phoenix's narrative foil and it sort of becomes really really really clear that phoenix...DOES blame himself for not getting there in time. because whenever godot throws those accusations at him:

Godot: It was two years ago... Mia Fey was pursuing someone. A man. But she bit off more than she could chew. She made a very dangerous enemy.

Phoenix: (Yeah, that's one case I'll never forget.) But... I got that guy! Personally!

Godot: Sure. Ms. Fey's murderer was caught. But that won't bring her back!

Phoenix: W-Well, no... but...

Godot: You were with her at the time. You and no one else. It was your responsibility! You should have protected her!

Phoenix: I...!

Godot: You say Mia Fey was your teacher! Well then, I'd say you've learned nothing, Trite! You robbed her of her life. And now... ...you've let her sister suffer the same fate!

Phoenix: (I... I haven't sentenced Maya to death...! No...!)

[...]

Godot: You were the only one who was there to protect her! But you let her die. It was all your fault.

Phoenix: I... It wasn't like that...

phoenix's rebuttals? are half-hearted at best. he tries (VERY weakly) to insist that at least he got redd white in the end, but the minute godot puts on the pressure phoenix is at a complete loss for words. he's BARELY denying it. he's trailing off the minute he tries. and i think the fact that he's doing that combined with the fact that godot is literally MEANT to be phoenix's narrative foil is pretty much proof that this is something that phoenix has actually thought to himself ever since mia died. he sat with her body until she went cold!!!! the idea that he wouldn't connect the dots and realize that if he'd just gotten to the office a little bit sooner maybe mia would still be alive is laughable.

but let's back up for a minute and talk about maya. let's rewind all the way back to turnabout goodbyes, when maya seemingly hit the lowest point she ever had in the games:

Maya: The letter! Did he take it?

Phoenix: Huh!? Oh... yeah. A-are you okay!?

Maya: ... I... I couldn't stop him. I jumped as fast as I could, but one shot from that thing knocked me out cold. I'm useless. I'm no good as a lawyer, or a medium! I can't even call my sister. Not even now, when we need her the most. I wish I hadn't woken up at all.

Phoenix: Maya!

maya spends the ENTIRETY of turnabout goodbyes wanting to be useful to phoenix in some way and getting so legitimately upset at the fact that everything she tries to do seems to go wrong. the conversation phoenix has with her and larry (where he tells her that he believes in larry and edgeworth over her, because this is aa1 and at this point phoenix is being driven by his idealizations and memories of the class trial) doesn't help matters, either. and at first you kind of wonder WHY it is that maya is trying so hard to be useful to phoenix, WHY she's taking it so hard that she can't fully help this guy who may be her new friend but is still someone she only met fairly recently, until you remember mia's letter: "take care of phoenix for me." that was what mia wrote to her, and in her eyes she's failing at the last request her sister ever asked of her. and maya arrived FIRST on the scene to find mia's body, is the thing. SHE would've found mia's still-warm corpse and realized that if SHE had been any earlier, maybe SHE could've done something to stop mia's murder. and now she seemingly can't even fulfill the last thing mia asked her to do. she straight up says she wishes she was dead. it's heartbreaking!

i've gone off on a whole tangent but i think my point is that while the games don't explore phoenix and maya's innermost thoughts about the traumatic experience of walking in on the body of someone you loved, there do seem to be nods to it that at least acknowledge that phoenix and maya DO have issues pertaining to it. but they also acknowledge that even if mia is gone, maya and phoenix have each other and will ALWAYS have each other ("you know i would never desert you!"/"you're one of us, nick!") and even if mia's death drags them down sometimes, having each other helps. they're looking after each other just like mia asked them to, but they're also looking after each other because they've grown to love each other over the course of the trilogy and have started to treat each other like the family they never had—no matter what comes their way, of course they have each other. of course maya will take care of phoenix. of course phoenix will watch over maya. of course. of course!