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parker-artio · 2 days ago

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The Batfamilys ages don’t make sense.

Or me dissecting the timeline of when the bats first met and why their ages are fucked up!

This is a lot of math that I did mentally while washing the dishes, I apologize if some of it is inaccurate, but I did the best I could.

(And yes, well all know their ages are fucked up, but I realized they’re a lot more fucked up then anyone first notices)

-I am ONLY doing the main family btw-

SO-

The very first Batfamily members to meet were Bruce and Alfred, it was kinda straightforward, Bruce was a baby Alfred was around the same age as his parents at early to mid 20’s.

List of the ages so far:

(I will be doing this every time)

Alfred Pennyworth: 24 ish

Bruce Wayne: 8

The second was Bruce and Dick (obviously), but this is kinda a odd one, but it’s still straightforward, Bryce went to The Flying Grayson’s show, he saw his parents die, and Y’know he decided right then and there he was going to be a foster parent. Good for him. But Dick is mentioned to be about like from 8 to 9 here. It’s more implied that he’s 8, because it’s supposed to be a parallel thing, to Bruce, with both of his parents dying in front of him at 8- so that the age I’m going to use for the beginning of this.

Bruce was supposed to be Batman for about 2-3 years before he took in Dick, so that’s what I’m going by to assume his age. (DC admit this man is mid fourths to early fifty’s , stop saying he’s early 40’s- he’s clearly not.) So he dropped out of college pretty early on, so I’d say like 19? Then he went on his trip around the world for a year or so and ended up at the League of Assassins to where he stayed for like- 2 to 4 years before he came back to Gotham. So I’m going to use the median of 2 and 4 and get that it was 3 years. (Same with the years before he took dick in, rounding out to 2.5) therefore Bruce was about- 23.5 ish when he took in Dick. And if you do some subtraction he’s only 17 years older than Dick, which works in a basic timeline of there being a couple references to Bruce being a ‘teen dad’.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 39 ish

Bruce Wayne: 23.5 ish

Richard Grayson: 8

Say what you want, but Barbara is apart of the batfam- I know some people like to say she’s a bit like Huntress and isn’t- but to me she is. She is the original Batgirl, and is very much apart of the Batfamily to me.

So she’s older than Dick, I’m not sure how much older, but I’m her first appearance (when she wasn’t being shipped with Bruce) she was about 2 years older than him (?- I think I can’t find anything on google with any confirmation and I don’t have old comics on hand rn).

But her first appearance was when Robin (dick) was about 12-13, I’m just gonna put 12.5 for the sake of putting 12.5.

Meaning her first appearance was when she was about 14 ish. And was about- 6 years later.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 45 ish

Bruce Wayne: 29.5 ish

Richard Grayson: 12.5

Barbara Gordon: 14

The next is Bruce meeting Jason. To figure out the ages here we first need to figure out the amount of time between him meeting Dick and meeting Jason. So let’s talk about the age gap between Jason and Dick.

It’s believed that their age gap is from 5-8 years, so let’s just go to the middle and say it’s 6.5 years. Jason is supposed to be 12 when Bruce first meets him, when he trying to tirejack the Batmobile. So if we add 6.5 to 12, Dick is about 18, meaning it’s been around 10 or so years. Which actually lines up believe it or not. (The old writers could actually stick to a timeline unlike the newer ones.)

But I can’t find any older comics to figure out if Bruce took Jason in right then and there, or he saw him again about a year later and took him in then. So let’s just say Jason is 12.5 when Bruce takes him in.

Ages so Far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 49 ish

Bruce Wayne: 33 ish

Richard Grayson: 18

Barbara Gordon: 20 (This also would be post paralysis as she was 19 when it happened)

Jason Todd: 12.5

When Tim comes into the family is when it gets confusing. We’re not even starting with the first time he met the family, we’re starting back with Flying Grayson’s Show.

So, Dick as we’ve established is 8. Jason is about 6.5 years younger than him. Making Jason about 1.5 when the show happens, but a very often mentioned age gap in all of the batkids- is between Tim and Jason. As Tim was 13 when Jason died. Jason was 16. Tim was 16 when Jason came back. And Jason was 19.

It’s a three year gap, therefore, Tim couldn’t have attended that show. But I don’t think anyone did the math there, meaning that’s where the first timeline inconsistency starts to occur. But it’s okay, because in a few versions Dick was said to be about 11, meaning Jason would’ve been 4ish and Tim about a year old. Most babies don’t remember stuff that happens in this time, but it is possible, so I’ll just scratch it up to multiple different world and the writers forgetting.

But when Tim does finally meet the family he is 13, as it is right after Jason’s death when he is 16, he becomes Robin because Dick basically hands him the suit, when Tim tells him Batman needs a new Robin, and yeah.

So a three year gap. Timeline a bit messed up, but it can’t get that much worse, right? (Wrong.)

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 52 ish

Bruce Wayne: 36ish

Richard Grayson: 21

Barbara Gordon: 23

Jason Todd (assumed dead): 16

Tim Drake: 13

So the next person is always a bit confusing, some think it’s Steph, others think it’s Cass, but Cass was batgirl first, however Steph was Spoiler first- They kinda started at about the same time- so I’ll just smush em in together.

So Cass is said to be older than Jason by only months. And they both come in at about a year of Tim being Robin, putting Cass at 17, which also doesn’t line up with the timeline, as Bruce says she is 16 (I can’t find the panel but it’s in one of he 2000’s runs I believe I can’t confirm exactly) but it’s close in age, so I’ll let it go.

Steph is said to be both the same age as Tim, but other times older, so I’m going to place her at 15 here. A year older than Tim since it’s only been a year since Tim started as Robin.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 53 ish

Bruce Wayne: 37 ish

Richard Grayson: 22

Barbara Gordon: 24

Jason Todd (assumed dead at 16): 17

Tim Drake: 14

Cassandra Cain: 17

Stephanie Brown: 15

So the next is Damian- obviously.

So Damian is 10 when he comes, it’s mentioned multiple times. Yay an easy to confirm age, we love it!

Jason also comes back.

However Tim is mentioned to be 16 here, so we can easily just get everyone’s ages from doing the math from their ages previously. Most people when calculating their ages skip Steph and Cass and say it’s a six year gap between him and Tim, which does line up, but without Steph an Cass there it still fucks with the timeline a bit.

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 56 ish

Bruce Wayne: 40 ish

Richard Grayson: 25

Barbara Gordon: 27

Jason Todd (now alive again): 19

Tim Drake: 16

Cassandra Cain: 19

Stephanie Brown: 17

Damian Wayne: 10

Now we’re on Duke. Which is where it gets all fucked up.

So Google says Duke is four years older than Damian, and his first appearance is when Damian is 11 or 12iah, making Duke about 15 or 16, in his first appearance. But also in this time, DC stopped aging Tim all together, they supposedly aged Cass down, and Steph closer to Jason’s age. Which fucks the whole timeline up, but let’s not get into that.

We can just go from Damian’s age to get the rest, meaning it was a two or so year gap from Damian arriving to when Duke first started in the ‘I Am Robin’ movement and soon after became Signal

Ages so far:

Alfred Pennyworth: 58 ish

Bruce Wayne: 42 ish

Richard Grayson: 27

Barbara Gordon: 29

Jason Todd: 21

Tim Drake: 18

Cassandra Cain: 21

Stephanie Brown: 19

Damian Wayne: 12

Duke Thomas: 16

This is what their ages would’ve been if they didn’t continue to age Damian up and no one else, so here’s what ages they SHOULD be. (This is for you Tim.)

Since Damian is 14-15 in comics currently- everyone should be a bit older too- but DC refuses to age them up. (I’m going to use 15 just because, making it a THREE year difference.)

Ages they should be:

Alfred Pennyworth: 61 ish (I don’t care if he’s dead)

Bruce Wayne: 45 ish

Richard Grayson: 30

Barbara Gordon: 32

Jason Todd: 24

Tim Drake: 21

Cassandra Cain: 24

Stephanie Brown: 22

Damian Wayne: 15

Duke Thomas: 19

Someone needs to ask Duke how college is going, or ask Tim how it feels to drink. Maybe someone should ask Dick how a mid-life crisis feels, when you’re actually close to the mid-life age. (He’s had them before, but now he’s actually closer to the midlife age.) Have someone ask Bruce how it feels to be in his 40’s and still get called hot, to get called ‘beekeeper age’ by people- and still get voted hottest man of the year, yearly.

There’s so many untapped humor opportunities that come with their chronologically accurate ages. But DC is full of pussies.

#DCpleaseletTimage

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captain-bubble-wrap · 16 hours ago

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Treating Quinn to Valentine's Day instead. 🥰🍓🎁🥂

Quinn was due at your apartment any minute now.

You had sort of lied to him when you told him you didn't want to go out, just so you could surprise him with something when he came over to spend the evening with you. "No gifts, no flowers, no dinner date," that's what you had told Quinn. Little did he know, you were going to give him all of those things when he finally got there.

There were balloons all over the living room ceiling, candles going, and the lights were down low. You had made it a point to wear his favourite little black dress and that Chanel perfume that always drove him crazy. The only thing that worried you, was that he was going to feel guilty about you having gone all out on him, while likely he did nothing for you. But, that had been the whole point of the surprise.

You retouched your lipstick while you impatiently waited for him to knock at your door. Knowing Quinn, he was going to be late, just hopefully it wouldn't been too long, or dinner was going to be ruined.

Your heart was racing as the nervousness of having to surprise him weighed on you. You weren't good with those sorts of things, and you couldn't help but feel like you were also forgetting something. Dinner was in the oven, everything was set out that needed to be, your outfit and makeup were perfect -- you just needed Quinn.

You almost didn't hear his soft knocking from where you were in your bedroom. Quickly, you ran to the door and settled yourself before opening it. "It's just Quinn," you reminded yourself. "It's just Quinn."

Without making him have to knock a second time, you flipped the lock and pulled it open, "Happy Valentine's Day, baby!"

Quinn was speechless.

He stood there just looking at you like he had won the lottery. The dumb side-ways grin on his lips betrayed his normal poker face. You looked beautiful, even if he couldn't say it immediately.

"Oh, wow," he stumbled. "You-- you're beautiful."

You'd have to step towards him to get your kiss; his feet seemed to have forgotten how to function. "It's good to see you!"

He just giggled, "Yeah, you, too."

"Well, come in, silly! I didn't invite you over just to stand in the hallway!"

Quinn's hands found your body immediately, holding your face to keep you from walking any further away from him. "I love you."

He never failed to take your breath away --to sweep you off your feet-- and the fact that you got to call him yours almost didn't feel real. "I love you, too, Quinn."

"So," he said, forcing himself to break the contact between the two of you. "You said you didn't want anything, yet you went all out on me? Why?"

Laying your arms over his shoulders, you smiled before giving your answer, "Because I think you deserve it! This stupid holiday makes men believe they have to do everything for their partner, and I don't think it's right! Guys deserve dinner, and flowers too!"

"You...got me flowers?"

You were beaming, getting to tell him about the cliche gift that you were so proud of. "I did!"

Quinn laughed, "I've never been given flowers before, thanks baby. You told me not to get you anything, so I didn't, but now I feel bad."

"Nope, don't be! You spoil me all the time; this is all for you!"

His hands trailed from your face, across the curves of your body until they found exactly where they wanted to settle. "I so don't deserve you."

"I haven't even gotten to the best part of tonight," you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

The smirk Quinn flashed had your heart racing as he backed you further into your apartment. The click of the door closing almost echoed. "Oh, so there's more? Do tell!"

#🗣 hockey mom daydreams #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine

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squishygirl46 · 5 hours ago

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Hi everyone, this is a story about my deepest fantasies and dreams. It will be written about me Let me know if you like it. Part one: the beginning.

God, I don't know where I am, some man left a camera in the room and said I had to speak my mind on it or I would be killed. The last thing I remember is leaving the house to go to the store. Now I'm here and I don't know what's going on, I'm so scared….. There's only one dim lamp in this room, a big bed, a toilet, a speaker on the wall and a door. I'm probably going to be killed or raped, I don't know, I'm so scared. Suddenly a masked man came into the room, carrying a scale and a camera.

- Hi said: Get on the scale and take off your clothes. I obediently did everything he ordered. Completely naked I stood on the scale which said 45 kilograms(99 pounds). -You're skinny, now stand against the wall and turn sideways. I went to the wall and turned around, then he told me to stand in front of him and he was taking pictures. What a shame… But I can't help it, I'm so scared. After this strange photo shoot and weighing, the man left. I don't know how much time had passed, but I was very hungry. Luckily the man came back soon and brought a huge tray of food on a gurney. Fried chicken, potatoes, meat pies, pancakes, brownies and cake. There were also several bottles of soda and some pills.

-Whoa, why so much food, I can't eat that much. -No one's asking you. He told me to take two pills and a soda. After I drank them he left and closed the door behind him. I started eating and as usual I got full very quickly, literally after a couple wings my little tummy was full and I laid down to rest and fell asleep, I don't know how long I slept but after I woke up the food was still there and I was very very very hungry…. I started eating again. A few wings, then a brownie, washed it all down with soda, then wings again, then potatoes and then soda again… I could feel my stomach filling up, but the hunger didn't go away, and only after 30 minutes of eating and stopped for breath…. -Oh, God, what was that just now? -Ufff. I mumbled. I looked at the tray, it was covered in leftovers. I put my head down and saw that my stomach was protruding very much, as if I had been inflated like a car tire…. And it was so hard. I was very thin and this protuberance really stood out. I laid back on the bed and dozed off….. When I woke up, the tray was gone, but on the wall were my pictures and a graph with my weight written on it. God, what does that mean, am I being fattened up? I've always worked hard on my figure, I don't want to be fat, I need to exercise to burn off the calories from that gluttony. I got out of bed and started doing exercises, 50 squats, 10 push-ups and 50 abs, then I rested and did them again.

-Fuuuuh, now we can have a little snack, as long as we don't eat too much. Right after these words, this man came in again with a tray, this time there were mountains of fast food, 5 big burgers, a bucket of fries, wings, nuggets, and 2 bottles of coke. -Oh my god, I'm not allowed to eat that, I've always avoided fast food in my life-. But the man silently handed me two pills. -No, I won't take them, they make me unable to stop eating! In response to these words, he just took them and put them in my mouth, then clamped my nose and poured cola into my mouth, I had to swallow them…. -Good appetite- he said and left. I decided that a little fast food wouldn't hurt my figure, especially if I kept doing exercises, or even more exercises, yes, it wouldn't hurt. I took the smallest burger I could find and took a bite. -God, this is so good,” I said with my mouth full. And a wave of warmth spread through my body. -Yeah, one burger wouldn't hurt me. -Yeah. But I couldn't stop at one, as soon as I finished it I took a Coke to drink, I thought I'd just drink a little bit, but I started gulping it down greedily, like I hadn't had a drink in a year. I only stopped when I had half a bottle. Right after that, I went on a food binge. A burger, another one, fries, nuggets, all dipped in sauce and swallowed before I could chew. After 30 minutes of such piggishness, I felt nauseous and almost threw up. I decided to lie down and rest.

-I ate a ton of food again, my God, what am I turning into, but ok, I'll exercise some more and everything will be fine. I put my hand on my warm, bloated tummy and fell asleep. When I woke up I thought it would be a good idea to exercise. Like last time I got up and started squatting, but I stopped at 30 reps and sat on the bed…. The leftovers were beckoning me… -Okay, I've done enough, I can have a snack. I finished everything on the tray and went back to sleep… It went on like that for about two weeks

#stuffing #get me fatter #stuffed feedee #gaining weight on purpose #fat #chubby #getting bigger #belly #weight gain #chubbiness

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finelinevogue · 2 days ago

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but what is she surprises aaron with flowers and a bath. where she’s looking after him but he’s like you need to be in here with me to be perfect. because this man never lets himself be taken care of 😭

aaaahhhh omg no i will cry this is so cute for v day 🥹🥹🥹🥹 okay let’s do it!

pairing - aaron hotchner x wife!reader

word count - ~1.5k

In your opinion; being married to someone does not mean you stop dating that person.

Your person happened to be the workaholic, grump, that is Aaron Hotchner. Not only is he the Unit Chief of the BAU in the FBI, but he is also more importantly your husband and father to three.

“That’s so pretty, Cassie-baby.” You cooed at your daughter who was drawing her dad a valentine’s day card.

Aaron does so much for his team at work and even more at home for you, so you decided to treat him extra special on this extra special day.

Cassie, your 2 year old, Dylan, your 5 year old and Jack your 10 year old were all sitting at the kitchen table perfecting their valentines day cards for their dad.

You had given yours to Aaron already.

“Mm.”

Aaron sighed as he felt your kisses trail over his exposed back. His face was shoved into his pillow, head turned away from you, as he was softly woken from his sleep.

“Morning.” You kissed him again, leaning further over his body so you could kiss his neck closer to his face.

“I love you, but why are you awake?” His voice was so low and muffled that it did something to your core.

“It’s valentines day.”

Aaron smiled in response. He of course knew what day it was, he just hadn’t expected you to wake up at 5AM just so you could tell him that.

He did appreciate the gesture though.

“I’ve got something for you.” You whispered into his ear, before giving his lobe a soft kiss and small bite. Aaron happily sighed at the feeling.

You handed him his card and told him that you were going to take an indulgent shower.

You watched Aaron flick on the bedside light about to open and read the card you had gifted him. He took pride in caring for things like this. That’s when he saw the clock on the bedside table.

4:45AM.

“Honey, not that I don’t love the fuss but you’ve woken me up 15 minutes early.” Aaron whined, because he did love his sleep regardless of how much he looked like he didn’t.

“Did I?” You asked, slipping off your pyjama top so you were bare, “Or did I just give us an extra 15 minutes to take a shower together?”

You left him to think on that question.

But you knew you made the right choice when less than thirty seconds later Aaron came up behind you in the shower.

Before you could go down that route in your mind, you returned to helping your kids out.

“Jack, that’s amazing bud.” You gasped. He’d drawn a picture of the whole family and labelled everyone too for good measure. “Uhh, who’s this?” You pointed.

“That’s our dog.” He explained.

“We don’t have a dog.” You said, confused.

“We will. I’m working on it.” He nodded and you had to laugh at the boy’s ambition. You no doubt probably would end up with a dog, because Aaron could not say ‘no’ to his kids.

Dylan was writing his name super neatly - for a 5 year old - at the bottom of his card.

“Wow, Dyl-man. You’re so clever.” You kissed his head.

“I know.” He smiled up at you.

“Daddy will be home in an hour, okay? So let’s finish these and then get our pyjamas on before dinner.”

<.><.><.>

When Aaron came home the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was.

Normally there was at least one child screaming, or dinner was coking, or even the TV was on for the kids to watch. This evening there was nothing.

“Honey?” Aaron called out.

He took off his blazer and hung it on the staircase, dropping his briefcase next to it.

He stood there for another moment, looking around the house and undoing his tie so he could place it next to his blazer.

“Y/N?” He called out again - more concerned this time.

He walked into the kitchen and noticed that the oven was on with his dinner being warmed inside.

The thing that caught his eyes though was the trio of cards sat on the table that were all addressed to him. He picked them up one-by-one and admired the drawings and writings inside.

He had really poor artists for children but at the same time Aaron believed they were all MOMA worthy.

Aaron fetched a glass of water after reading the cards, keeping them propped up so everyone could see. Now he wanted to see his family to give them all the kisses they deserved.

He went upstairs to the kids playroom.

It was there that he found everyone.

You were wall inside the massive fort that Aaron had helped Jack make last weekend. It was a wonder it was still standing actually.

The fort was huge and nearly spanning the whole room. It was a combination of random bedsheets and blankets, along with strings of tiny, hanging, fairy lights and fluffy pillows to cover the floor.

Aaron leaned against the door as he watched you read a book to your children. They were all in their pyjamas, tucked under blankets and wearing sleepy faces. Cassie was already asleep against your chest, but Dylan and Jack were trying their best to pay attention to you and the story.

“Room for one more?” Aaron asked as he knelt down in front of the fort entrance.

“Daddy!” Dylan cheered, perking up at the sight of his dad. Jack was the same, but Cassie was too asleep to notice.

“Hey, my buddies.” Aaron laughed as his sons hugged him tight. He hugged them back tighter.

“We missed you.” Jack said.

“I miss you too.” He kissed Jack’s head and then thought it was only fair he did the same to Dylan’s. He would kiss Cassie’s when he put her to bed later.

Aaron looked over his sons to where you were laid looking at them all - a loving smile on your face.

Aaron mouthed ‘I love you’ to you and you mouthed it back, before Aaron clambered into the fort and settled down for the rest of the bedtime story.

<.><.><.>

You sat with Aaron as he had his dinner.

“Was Spencer any better today?” You asked, drying the dishes that you had cleaned before.

“He was okay. He was okay enough to talk about the origins of beans for half an hour, at least:” Aaron chuckled as he drank from his water.

“Origins of beans?” You questioned.

“Don’t ask.” Aaron rolled his eyes, before tucking back into his dinner.

You were both happy to be silent in each other’s company as Aaron ate and you dried and put away dishes. The kids had been put to bed an hour or so ago, so it was just you two for the night now.

“Dinner okay?” You asked.

You came up beside Aaron and brushed a hand through his hair. His arm wrapped around your waist as he kept you close against him as he ate.

“Mhm. Lovely, thank you.”

You smiled as you accepted his politeness.

You bent over to kiss his head - something you as a family did a lot. Even Jack had started doing it to his siblings after seeing you and Aaron do it all the time.

“You need a shower.” You said, pulling back from his head.

Aaron pinched your side gently, “Love you too.” He said sarcastically.

“Oi!” You laughed.

“Supposed to be nice to each other today.”

“What? Just because it’s valentines day?”

“Yes.” Aaron finished his meal and twisted in his chair so you stood between his legs. His other arm came around your waist so you were trapped against him.

You steadily brushed his hair into formation after having ruined it a little when you’d messed with it before.

“I love you every day, not just because it’s valentines day.” You explained. “Do you?”

“Did you just ask me whether I love you every day?” Aaron scoffed.

“Well?”

“Sweetheart, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that I haven’t loved you. I just love you a little extra today.”

“Oh you do, do you?” You teased.

“Mhm.”

“Well if you love me that much…” You said seductively, leaning down as Aaron’s head tilted back in anticipation of kissing you. Just as you were about to kiss him you whispered, “… Then you can clean your own dishes.”

You leant back up and left Aaron hanging.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge over your actions and you knew that you’d pay for your teasing later. For now he could clean his dishes - alone.

You needed him alone in order to prepare the next part of his valentines day.

<.><.><.>

Aaron trudged up the stairs after turning off the lights downstairs and setting the alarm.

He unbuttoned his shirt a little as he reached the top, stopping at three when he focused on checking on his kids instead.

Each of them were sleeping when he checked.

They were all safe and that’s all that Aaron needed reassuring of.

He walked into your bedroom next and noticed you weren’t in bed reading like he had expected you to be.

He shut the bedroom door and called your name.

“In here.” You responded from the bathroom.

Aaron’s shirt was now all the way unbuttoned but he kept it on as he entered the bathroom.

He knocked as he entered to give you time to tell him to get out if needed.

“Yeah?”

Aaron watched as you checked the temperature of the bath water, which was filled with bubbles, before shaking off the water and rolling your sleeve back down.

The bathroom smelt like those calming bath salts Penelope had bought for both of you.

“What’s all this?” Aaron asked, gesturing to the bath and the warm glowing candles on the counter.

“Happy valentines day.” You smiled.

“Honey.” Aaron pouted as he looked from the room to you, standing there with a smile that would bring even the grumpiest of men to their knees. “This is for me?”

“Yeah. Enjoy.” You leant up to kiss his cheek as you tried to walk past him, but he caught your arm before you could.

“Woah, woah. Where are you going?”

“Uh.. To let you enjoy this.” You furrowed your brows.

“How?” He asked seriously.

“What?”

“How am I supposed to enjoy this, without you?”

His question made your brows soften and you couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit more.

“You do so much for us Aaron. Thought you might want a moment of peace.”

“Well you thought wrong, because all I want right now is you.” He leant down to kiss you, “And that bath.”

You laughed into the kiss he was giving you, “Okay then. You, me and the bath it is.”

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff

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shatcey · 11 hours ago

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Victor theories. Contradictions and links

This is probably the last part of my theories about Vivi before his route came out. Most likely, they have nothing to do with reality, which we will see pretty soon. I will kill someone if Cybird release someone from Vogel first. Do you hear that, Cybird? I'll buy tamagotchi and kill it!!!!! You don't want that, do you? Poor defenseless little creature…

When I read other theories and events about Vivi, I had some thoughts, but I haven't finished them, haven't put them together, and… I think it's finally time to do it properly.

I should probably add warnings. I'm mentioning the details of Alfons and Harrison's routes. And also provide fragments of events that had not yet been in the EN game (only in JP). And… a bit about Azel's route (but I'm warning you about this, and you can easily skip to the next part without reading).

There were many events with Vivi. I made a list when started preparing for this post… Not all of them contain anything that I can use within the described boundaries, but they all provide few or many hints. So… it took some time to check. I hope I didn't miss anything.

If so… remind me, and I'll make one more "last post"… it becomes an endless story.

His personality

@maladaptivedaydreamsx assumed that Victor isn't his real name, but was given to him because of Queen. I thought about that as well. As I mentioned here, Victor thinks of himself in quotation marks, as if it's not his real name, but a role he's playing. And that actually sounds pretty fitting. On the surface, he's a cheerful and positive, with a sweet, mama-type vibe. But when we read the stories from his perspective, he feels completely different. Very dark and even scary. His thoughts show how much he notices and thinks before making any decisions, how much of a calculating bastard he really is (lovingly). But is his cheerful side a role he's playing? Or is it just part of his personality? From the Bond story "The Other Side"

and kiss event...

Victor insists that this is just a part of him. And I'm inclined to believe.

There is a theory that Victor is actually immortal. @.reccyls mentioned this here last time. And this theory is possible. Not only because Victor is so determined to treat all the members of Crown and Kate like children. But also because of this Willy's remark from the 1st Victor's birthday

There are two possibilities that Willy could be hinting at.

The first… Vivi is a god. The God of death.

But… this may have a different meaning. Vivi is very closed to God or any other immortal being. Vivi often talks about death as a living creature. Perhaps the fact that he is a "constant companion of death" makes him a kind of expert in this matter.

And that's why I tend to think that the second option is closer to the truth. It's from the very beginning of the same 1st birthday.

Yes, Harry often says that Victor lies a lot, but I don't think that applies to this situation. The wording is very strange. He doesn't seem happy about this fact. Like… "I wish I had more time". Maybe it's just me.

Oh, I forgot about another option. Vivi could have been a god, but now he's a human. This explains why he's so annoyed by the fact that he needs to sleep. Hmmm… I like that option.

If assumed he's a very old and powerful being… who, despite this, has not lost interest in life as such and can still find joy in it (reminds of someone, right?). How did the Queen manage to get him as her aid? A contract? We have another Black butler?

And if everyone thinks of him as a very strong person, then no one will ever assume that he needs anything. No one ever considers him human. This thought crossed my mind when I talked about the Mirror event, but I decided not to voice it. But… what the hell… this is the last post, where else should I talk about it?

It was the same with Azel (if you haven't read his route and don't want spoilers, skip right to the next point). People didn't see him as a human being, they only asked for help, advice, and so on… In their eyes, he was only giving, after all, he is God. But… this is a rather selfish way of thinking. Even if a person seems completely independent and strong, and… perfect… this doesn't mean that he has nothing to wish. I can easily imagine Vivi in this concept. And that explains why he was so surprised when Kate said she liked helping him or taking care of him. This has never happened before.

But he doesn't have to be an immortal being for people to consider him inhuman. He succeeds in everything he does, and people may think that he doesn't need anyone's help.

His contradictions

Kate described him very accurately at a Drunk event, translated by @.reccyls.

I would also add that he takes care of the garden and himself (see how his hair is… it's a lot of work, you know) and it looks like he's sleeping normally. My baby Ally has dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep. But Vivi… there is no such thing. So… Yes, he really seems like the perfect person.

But behind every great accomplishment is a lot of hard work. We don't know what it is… he just has a habit of using every second of his life to the fullest, or… a kind of magic. But he really does a lot, and… I can understand why he wants to… relax sometimes. He can't admit it for some reason (pride or some restrictions) but he wants to anyway. And at the same Drunken event, he tricked Kate into putting his head in her lap and hugging her. As if he needed a reason for that. It feels like he's constantly preventing himself from doing what he wants to do. At the very end of Butler's event ("Your Hand, My Lady" translated by @.reccyls) Willy hints at this...

He's happy because Victor is FINALLY doing what he wants to do.

I got the impression that curse of the boys is a sick joke of fate. It is contrary to their true nature. Like a absolutely honest and straightforward Harrison have to lie because his curse forces him to do so. Or Ally, who wanted only one thing in life... to be remembered, and the curse did not allow him to got this. So I see the same contradiction in Victor's behavior… is his curse. He is literally obsessed with the idea of freedom. And the way he lives makes it seem like he's not free at all. And his desire to get something for himself sometimes is like getting some fresh air before he finds himself back in the dusty tunnels… He literally doesn't do ANYTHING for himself, he doesn't even ask others for anything. This is from the 2nd Cristmas event, translated by @.reccyls.

And this is from bond's story "About Freedom"

Despite the fact, he joked afterwards that he is as free as the wind. In this phrase, he said "I", not "you" or "people" in general. I'm sorry, Vivi, but I don't believe you're free. In fact, you've probably never been. That's why you dream about it. And it's a little sad.

Connections with the Queen

The bond between Vivi and the Queen is very strong and mysterious. He is absolutely devoted to her and literally does everything she says. But how long has he been doing this? Why does he feel like he belongs to her? As he told William at the very end of Butler event ("Your Hand, My Lady" translated by @.reccyls.

The first thing that comes to mind is the Black Butler. Sebas demonstrates absolute dedication without asking questions. And he is a demon who is devoted to man. Actually Vivi said at the first Christmas event (Wreck the halls) that he had made a deal with death…

Perhaps it has something to do with the Queen. I'm not saying that the Queen is the Death (we never know for sure), but the way he's devoted to her, and the way he convinced that the connection with death is not so easy to break, seems somehow similar. Indestructible.

@.velisle has posted a really huge post with facts and theories about Vivi… I added my thoughts here. There was a theory… That's the kid Victor talked about at the Secrets event…

...In fact, he is.

But there are two things that prevent me from thinking that way. The first… he doesn't know if the Queen could make them smiles. If he was that kid, he would know that.

And the second. If we assume that he is not a vampire or another magical creature that lives exceptionally long (or endless), then it is quite difficult to imagine. The calculation is simple. The game takes place around 1890. And the queen begins to rule in 1837. More than 50 years have passed since. And Victor looks like he's 40 at the most. So… He's NOT that kid, but… it could have been his parent or… an older sibling. Or… even someone related to Kate. I wouldn't be surprised if the developers link them so tightly.

@rou-luxe assumed that Victor made a promise to the Queen many years ago and continue fulfill it. It seems very correct, but at the same time not quite. No matter how much you like sticking to your promise, at some point you will feel tired or pressured to keep it. But here… he does it willingly, even with joy. So my idea… he is very grateful to the Queen. As if she had saved his life or given him a new life that he wouldn't have been able to get otherwise. This brings me back to my previous thought. That the Queen is not really human. But she is… at least the real Queen Victoria, who lived and died (which makes her a normal person). If it's just gratitude, then what exactly did she do for him to get him for a lifetime? This is… THE question!

Connections with Crown boys

We know that Vivi and Willy immediately clicked on the common desire to free people. The way we were shown Vivi's cursed ability (as I mentioned in a previous theory post) is somewhat similar to Willy's. I'll just add this part from the 1st birthday story.

We will not talk about that this is technically impossible to strangle yourself. Don't try to prove me wrong, check on Google.

The fact remains… Vivi orders the man to die or Death to take him away. But for some reason, his victim feels happy to follow this order.

It doesn't matter how, but the cursed ability of both of them (Victor and William) deprive a person of freedom. So… no wonder they understand each other so well, they literally went through the same struggles.

I don't think Vivi is particularly kind to Harry just because of his reaction (which is always so good). But also because he feels a little guilty about the death of Harry's father. He did not predict, did not find out, did not fix the problem in time. Yes, Vivi claims that he is not a kind, but rather an evil person, but he is a good teammate, he respects and helps all his partners. And he and Marco had a good team… From a distance, completely ignoring each other… but in the end, they really help each other a lot. So Vivi may feel guilty for missing something.

I didn't notice any special treatment for anyone else at the Crown. Well… Kate is an exception. But I would like to talk about her separately.

Connections with Kate

First the facts. Victor dragged Kate to the Crown because he thought it would help the boys. From his 1st birthday.

He said (will say) the same thing in the 1st anniversary (my summary). He thought she would change something. What does he think needs to be changed? He used a rather interesting phrase in 1st birthday...

Usually, when he said something like that, it's "succumb to your wickedness". Vivi often say that when he sends the boys to work. Did he assume that Kate would help them become better at their work? Is it related to work at all? Maybe about their course? Maybe it's about understanding themselves better? Or… about something completely different? But I tend to think he was looking for a way to combine them together.

They're all pretty strong and independent, they don't have much in common, they literally split into several groups, and he wanted to find a reason to unite them into one team. It's a very noble cause. He would probably reject such an idea as not fitting his wicked nature. Why do my favorite boys try to argue with me when I say good things about them? They're so weird.

But there's something he doesn't want her to know. Again from the 1st birthday...

It feels like he's afraid. It feels like he's been through something and doesn't want to make the same mistake again. Or he's constantly fighting… probably with his own curse… which forces him to do something to her (remember that his curse contradicts his essence). Vivi says something about it at the 1st Christmas event. This darkness demands that he stains her and whisks her away (I wrote about it here).

But his expectations of Kate really came true. She really brought change. And she even changed him. This is from his 2nd birthday story translated by @.reccyls.

It already looks like we're in the middle of his route. He feels that he is becoming less like an observer, he feels that he wants more for himself.

And now my assumptions, which, in fact, are based on nothing at all

The only thing we can be sure about is a kiss on the forehead. It was mentioned twice (I talked about it at the kiss event). The fact that Kate mentioned it twice means that developers are most likely to use it on one of the main routes. It could be Darius or someone we don't know about yet, but I think… that it's Victor. And it's not just his reaction to that kiss that makes me think so. But the DARK IF event.

I know it's an alternate world, but… the essence of the characters is the same, and it's quite interesting to imagine his main route through the prism of this event. Vivi's story hasn't been released yet, but in the second part of the event, there was a story for 95k points, and it's gorgeous. Translated by @.reccyls.

And this part is from a letter from this event. Not quite, but let's put it this way. Translated by @.reccyls.

The one and only. The soulmates. Actually, this theme is very strong at this event, and maybe I shouldn't even focus on it. But… for some reason, this concept seems very fitting for Vivi. The Vivi we know from Victorian London. And I really like to see this theme on at least one route in this game. Why not on Victor's, right?

So… my theory… Victor and Kate met when Kate was still a child. We haven't determined whether Victor is human or not, so I won't talk about him, but Kate was a child and witnessed something very bad. Something that could easily break the psyche for life. Victor solved the problem and kissed her on the forehead… and that's literally the only thing she remembers. It was probably just a short meeting, but for some reason they both remembered it. And now… after all these years, they meet again because they are destined to be together… I got goosebumps.

I think we should expect a second Tamamo route. With the "I want to be your friend so you won't be alone". They will work together, but this time she will help him with his work, and someone from his past will appear. Don't tell me he was a king as well… Thatever. And… so the hot scene will only be after the last avatar challenge (or even only in the epilogues).

Dark times are ahead... Patience to all of us.

@ethereal-blossom, Michelle, dear, I haven't found how to use your theories… my brain is burning up a bit after two days of thinking. But I'd like you to look at it. Maybe you could point out my mistakes or would like to add something. You know I'm always happy to read your thoughts.

The design of the spikelet on the dividers I took from Designed by Freepik

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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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bringmeanangel · 2 days ago

Text

Happy To Do It

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner and Reader

Tags/Warnings: comfort. Overstimulated reader. Soft Aaron. Use of good girl, praise kink. Pulse taking.

Synopsis: Aaron cares for you in the unique way you like

A/N: Okay, at some point I should write some smut or something. Until then, here's more comfort. These are things that comfort me. I was embarrassed, it's weird, but that's what would help.

You were doing your best to have a good day. You were, though you were overstimulated, your ears were ringing and you were exhausted.

You were watching TV with the volume low, waiting for Aaron. Finally Aaron came home. He sat on the couch and pulled you close. He kissed your temple.

"Hey sweetheart. Is your day any better?" he whispered and you nodded.

"Yeah." you sighed, turning off the TV.

You told him about your day as he gently combed his fingers through your hair. He pulled you onto his lap and kissed your forehead.

He kissed your temple, hand still combing through your hair. His other hand found your wrist.

He gently placed his fingers on your pulse point on your wrist. He knew this calmed you, but didn't want to draw attention to it.

The two of you stayed like that for a bit. Aaron lightly caressed your arm and carefully stood up, holding you.

"Did you eat today?" he asked as he carried you to your shared room.

"Yeah. I had swiss cheese melted on bread and some coffee and tea." you said. "And hot chocolate"

"Good girl, taking care of yourself." he said quietly and you nuzzled against his chest.

Aaron placed you down on your bed and opened the drawer and snapped on a pair of medical gloves. He looked over at you smirking when he heard you moan.

You were embarrassed, almost humiliated letting him know how much you found him wearing gloves calmed you

You weren't sure how to explain it. Aaron would never judge you for something that you found brought you comfort.

As much as him wearing gloves relaxed you, there was also a part of you that was turned on.

"What do you need right now, sweetheart?" he asked in a soothing tone.

He reached a hand out and a gloved hand caressed your cheek. You opened your mouth and he let out a low laugh, a gloved thumb swiping against your lip.

You blushed and giggled, but you knew he knew what you really needed.

"Can you take care of me? Help me feel less overstimulated." The way you looked at him, almost pleading and scared.

"of course, honey. Just relax" his deep voice bring you to a space of safety. "There we go. I'm going to hold you for a bit."

Aaron lifted you into his arms, his gloved hand stroking your cheek.

When your anxiety got bad, sometimes you would feel like you were getting sick, or worse, you would throw up from so much stress.

Aaron was always there to take care of you. Anything to calm you. Aaron laid you down on the bed and covered you up with a blanket.

He carefully caressed your neck and cheek with one hand and arm with his other gloved hand. You closed your eyes.

"nice deep breath for me, honey" he whispered. "Good girl" he praised.

He watched as you drifted off to sleep. He never questioned why the gloves helped. He was happy to do it.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner comfort #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 2 days ago

Text

P.S I Love You, 2007

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Haha surprise I wrote two, ngl this one is a LIL phoned in… anyway in other news my guy THIS MOVE MADE ME CRY SO HARD I was also on my period BUT I SOBBED

You can feel the blush blooming across your cheeks when his smooth voice comes from the phone. You jump a little, not really expecting him to answer which is stupid considering he answers all your calls

“Hey Y/N”

It’s literally so innocent like he’s just saying hello, but his voice drops an octave and you can just hear the smirk that asshole has.

“Hi Eddie, is Buck around?”

“Hmm lemme check” You can hear his feet shuffle as he does a little spin to look around…he’s not really trying and you know it’s because he’s lazy but you’re also like slightly delulu and what if he just wants to keep you to himself on the phone? What if like he wants to keep talking to you?

“No he’s not up here. Did you try calling him?”

No.

“Yeah! But he didn’t pick up… so you know, I called you”

“Mhm. He seems to not be answering a lot lately”

Whoops

“Maybe it’s the signal in the firehouse?” You try “or like maybe it’s just a his phone thing you know? Maybe he has it on silent”

“His phone is never on silent. As badly as we all would like it to be, he literally has that thing up full blast”

“God I know, and it’s just to mess with everyone else!”

“How he ended up with a sister as sweet as you I’ll never know”

Your heart completely just exits your chest, there’s no other way to explain the way it slams right out of you.

“Or as pretty”

You stare at the cookie dough in front of you, blinking slowly and trying your hardest not to flail and scream and melt and like probably throw this scooper right out the window. You continue to short circuit, hand frozen in the air and he chuckles

“You good over there Baby girl? Did you need help with something?”

“Huh” you sound dumb and you know you do and that makes him laugh again and suddenly the phone seems closer to him and his voice is smooth and just downright sexy

“I said, do you need help with something? Why did you call?”

“Cookies”

“Mhm… what about them? Use your words, Princess”

Window meet scooper. Jesus he’s laying it on thick. You fan yourself a little and adjust the phone in your hand

“I- Jesus I’m making cookies, I just- I wanted to know if everyone came in so I’d know how many to make you know?” You finally get out and take a deep breath. Seriously is it hot in here??

“Yeah everyone came in, why are you bringing cookies in?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day! I just thought it would be nice since you guys are all working”

“Huh, it is, isn’t it? I’d completely forgotten about it. Which you know… explains all the hearts and shit Buck has put up around the station”

“And the little bags of candy he made me help him set up last night? Did he pass those out?”

“He did, he did”

You roll your eyes at the phone and set it on the counter, putting it on speaker.

“You’re teasing me, you know exactly what day it is!”

“Just a bit” He laughs and you squeeze your thighs together dramatically “What about you huh? You got somethin’ set up for Valentine’s Day?”

You sigh and let the scooper drop into the bowl, you pull the parchment paper from the cabinet and pull off a piece

“No, I’m probably just gonna go to dinner with Buck or something, I think that’s what he wanted to do, Tommy told him he was busy”

“Oh” You hear Eddie suck in a breath through his teeth

“What??”

“He’s not busy, he’s gonna surprise him. We set the whole thing up”

“Oh! That’s really cute! That’s- that’s nice for them. He’s gonna love it, you’ll have to tell me about it”

The sentence is like okay a little rushed and you’re fighting to hide the disappointment in your voice because….there goes those plans but you know it’s still slightly there.

“You know…. I don’t have anything planned”

You perk up embarrassingly fast and clear your throat awkwardly

“Oh?” You say nonchalantly while you smooth down the parchment paper

“Mhmmm…”

He lets it trail off and you’re glued to your phone immediately. You put the phone back to your ear, while you watch your heart flop around on the floor.

“Okay,” you say awkwardly and he snorts

“You sound closer. You pick your phone back up?”

You roll your eyes and look up at the ceiling

“You know I’m just able to do that now, it had nothing to do with you”

“Yeah okay. It’s fine, I like it when you’re close anyway”

You get the scooper ready to launch into your second window when he clears his throat

“So if you’re not busy, and I’m not busy… maybe we can be not busy together? I figure everything is probably like booked so why don’t we get some takeout and you can home with me when you bring the cookies in?”

“Eddie are you-“

“Asking you to be my Valentine? I sure am Sugar”

You melt into a little puddle on the floor, like in cartoons and nod into the phone

“Okay, sure I’ll be your Valentine… what about Buck?”

“What about him? I’m just helping him out by taking care of his sister, he’d be so worried about you being alone. You know I expect a cute little card too right?”

You giggle and shake your head “You want me to make you a Valentine?”

“Oh a hundred percent, if we’re gonna do this we’re gonna do it right. I’ll make you one too”

“So…. Valentine’s Day with your best friend’s sister and staying in huh? Sounds pretty boring to me” You tease, and he huffs

“Sounds like a damn good time to me, wear somethin’ cute for me okay?”

You nod fast, unable to say anything even though he can’t see you, and you can hear the smile in his voice because he knows what you’re doing

“Good girl. I’ll see you later, gorgeous”

Eddie had been sweating that entire phone call.

It was so much easier to make you blush when you couldn’t see him flailing around and cringing at every single sentence that came out of his mouth

“Wear something cute for me?”

Hen looks at Eddie and he crumples onto the couch, slapping his hands over his face

“Shut up. God, please shut up”

“You did great! I told you she’d be your Valentine”

“Buck is going to kill me”

“I’m pretty sure he’s going to be way too occupied with Tommy to even think about what you two are busy doing”

“What if I fuck this entire thing up? Like what if she thinks I’m weird or something?”

“I highly doubt she’s gonna think that, she was eating up every word Eddie, it’s gonna be okay! Just remember what we practiced”

Eddie didn’t normally have anxiety, he doesn’t freak out. He’s always calm and level and thinks things through.

Except when it came to you. Because other freaking parts of his body wanted a say in things when it came to you and not just his heart, which he also frequently ignored.

He spends the next part of the afternoon lying on the couch with his head in Hen’s lap, where she pats his head and tries to reassure him and when it’s her turn to fill up the truck, Chimney replaces her and tells him about all the smooth ways he got Maddie’s attention. He also helps him make his Valentine for you, it's two poorly drawn stick figures with hearts around them in puffy paint. He wasn’t even aware they had those in the cabinets.

Is it… embarrassing when he knows the minute you’ve arrived at the station? He knows the sound of your shoes, his favorite shoes, it’s not weird, it’s not. Because Technically everyone around here has the same shoes so you know, someone with a different pair totally would make a different noise… especially if they were those shiny pink platform heels with the big pink bows on the ankle

He didn’t expect you to dress up when coming to the station and he’s not sure why, but now that he’s coming down the stairs to all the buzzing he can just see the top of your head and the cute new pink beret he’d gotten you for Christmas and his knees feel weak.

He sticks his hands in his pocket and walks over slowly. Remember, calm, cool and controlled, just like he’d practiced with Hen.

Buck finally lets you go and Eddie has to stop in his tracks to keep from freaking jumping you.

“What’s got you all dressed up?” Buck pinches the cropped pink cardigan you’re wearing while Bobby takes the tray of cookies from your hands and you glare up at Buck

“It’s Valentine’s Day! I just… I wanted to dress up, you know? Look cute…” Your eyes wander to Eddie when you say that and he bites his lip, looking away from you.

“You don’t think the mini skirt is overboard? Or this??” He tugs at the straps of your satin cami and you blush darker, pushing at his chest

“I’m a grown woman Buck. I can look cute okay? Especially for today”

“Okay but this- this is overly cute. I’m your older brother! Your flesh and blood! It’s my job to protect you”

“I’m adopted”

“I’m your older brother! It’s my job to protect you! Eddie go get my coat”

Eddie, who’s been staring at the way your thick curves fill out that tiny skirt and the way those little bows on your tights all face perfectly straight, you’d paid attention to every last detail and he wonders just how mad you’d be if he ripped them apart…

“Hello?? Earth to Eddie?? I need my backup here” Buck literally has his arms around you now, squishing you to his chest so no one can see you

“Buck!!” You squeak trying to push him away and Eddie rolls his eyes

“One coat, coming up”

He goes over to the racks, stopping in front of Buck’s before his eyes wander over to his own…

“Fresh from the cleaners” He tosses the coat at Buck, forces your arms into it and squeezes it closed over your chest and you groan loudly.

“Buck this is stupid!”

“No it isn’t! Eddie tell her it isn’t!!”

“It’s not stupid” He agrees, and your mouth drops open, “I think you look good in my coat”

You stop fighting Buck, who’s adjusting it on you to keep your bare skin covered and stare at Eddie. His tongue comes out to wet his lips and you hide your face in Buck’s shoulder

“See! There we go all nice and cov-“

Buck is interrupted by a call from Tommy, and Eddie comes over, taking your hand and tugging you away from him

“You want me to come outside?? Awwww can’t spend the day without seeing me huh?” It really doesn’t take much to distract Buck and he’s heading out of the station to go find his surprise, forgetting about you and your virtue.

“You know, I don’t normally agree with his fashion choices… but this?” Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, squeezing lightly and pulling you closer to him

“I think I like you in my jacket”

“I think I like being in it” You respond quietly and he grins and gives you a little kiss on the nose

“My shift is over in 10 minutes if you wanna go upstairs and wait for me”

You nod and he watches you walk off, his coat hangs from your shoulders and he can feel his pants tightening with every step you take.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

To say you look good in Eddie’s front seat is probably the biggest understatement of the century. After talking things over with Buck who literally shoved you into Eddie’s arms and hastily whispered for a rain check on Valentine’s Day and begged Eddie to hang out with you, you both eagerly sent him on his way.

He gave you the biggest hug and dramatically kissed Eddie’s cheek before running off to whatever his boyfriend had planned for them.

“So I ordered ahead, so it would just be a quick pick up” His throat feels dry when he speaks, and he clears it before reaching over and taking your hand in his, you gladly latch onto it and put your head on his shoulder

“Okay yeah, that sounds fine… oh! Wait!” You let go long enough to search through your bag and pull out a small card, there’s a glittery heart in the center that says his name in the middle and his heart slams into his chest

“You made that for me Sugar?” His voice is so sweet and you bite your lip, looking at it in your hands

“You told me to make you one so I did”

“You listen so well” He cups your chin and you melt into his hand, leaning into it he strokes your cheek with his thumb before pulling away

“Did you make me one?” Your eyes don’t meet his and he grins at your shyness, squeezing your hand

“Mhm, I did… I hope you like it”

He nods to the glovebox and you open it, giggling when you pull the card out

“Oh my god, I love it!!” You squeal and hold it to your chest “Eddie! This is cute!”

“You really think so?” He can’t keep the nervous edge from his voice and you turn to him and nod happily excited to reassure him

“It’s perfect Eddie! I love it” You look at the card in your hands and absolutely melt all over it again and he blushes even deeper

“I’m glad you like it, even if it’s a little silly I wanted to do it for you” He pulls into the Chinese restaurant and parks, he doesn’t get out yet, just watches you enjoying yourself and it makes his heart race

“Do you wanna come in with me?”

“Okay!” He helps you out of the truck and takes your hand again as you walk in together. The place is understandably busy and Eddie pulls you over to a little corner to wait, a girl comes up and asks for his name for the order and leaves again to go grab it.

“So how was your day?”

He pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you, you put your chin on his chest and he runs his hand over your hair

“It was good, I really enjoyed the cookie part” You giggle and Eddie nods along, listening to you talk about how you had to go to three stores for the specific new pan you needed, and that you almost ate it in the parking lot

He snickers and you whack his chest and roll your eyes

“Any freaking way… what about you?”

You settle into his arms and he just wants to throw you on the seat next to you and spread your legs. He wonders what you taste like… what kinds of sounds you’d make...

“Eddie?”

“Hm?” He mumbles and you stand on your toes and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek

“I said, how was your day?”

“Uh-it- it was”

Thank god the girl from earlier keeps him from sounding like a complete idiot. She hands him the bag and wishes them a happy Valentine’s Day

“Your girlfriend looks so cute I added in the chocolate fortune cookies!” she says with a wave and your cheeks light on fire

“Oh! I’m-“

“She does look pretty cute, doesn’t she?? Makes me want to get home even faster. Have a good night!”

He pulls you out with him and you hide your face in your hands and jog all the way to the car. Eddie laughs and follows after you

“Baby I don’t think that’s exactly safe”

“No. No, you let the car hit me! You take me out with it right now!”

His head falls back with a sharp laugh and he gets to the truck and opens your door for you

“You’re literally so dramatic”

“Your mom is so dramatic” You stick your tongue out and he steps into the truck and grabs your chin, pressing his lips to yours. You short-circuit and he pulls away with a smirk, letting his hand fall around your neck.

“Anything else?”

You shake your head and he kisses your forehead

“Good girl”

If you told Eddie that his day would end in having you on top of him on his couch and making out like a couple of teenagers he’d probably laugh in your face.

But here he is, running his hands over your sides and pulling you against him while you’re whimpering above him and slowly grinding your hips into his.

After dinner, he’d turned the lights down low for the movie, made sure you were nice and pressed against his side.

And then he put on a horror movie.

He saw how uneasy you were when he started flipping through the horror section and he knew he was on the right track

“You ever seen Friday the 13th?” He looks down at you and your slightly paled expression

“Uhhh no? No I haven’t…”

He can hear the nervousness in your voice and he grins wickedly before hitting play

“Oh cool, you’re gonna love it”

You most certainly do not love it. You’re about 45 minutes in and you haven’t come out of your hiding place in Eddie’s arms once. You can hear the gore on the screen and you jump every time it splatters

“Are you okay?” Eddie chuckles and you finally look up at him. His heart immediately tanks and he almost feels guilty when he sees your panic-stricken face

“Oh me? Oh, I’m good! Don’t worry!!”

God, you sound cute when you’re scared.

“You sure honey? You look a little…freaked out” He runs a finger over your cheek and you lean into it

“I’m fine!! Really! W-we can keep watching”

“If you’re sure…”

He pulls away again and turns on the movie and he knows you try so hard to be brave but the second Jason comes back on screen you shriek and hide right back in his shoulder. He laughs and pauses the movie again, feeling your body trembling against him

“Awwww Y/N” He turns to you and pulls away a little and you stay in your ball “Come on baby look at me”

You look up at him with little tears in his eyes and he can’t help but coo over you, he laughs a little and cups your face, kissing your eyelids

“You could have asked me to turn it off,” He tells you, running his thumbs over your cheeks and wiping away your tears

“No, no it’s okay I-“

You can’t even finish the sentence and he grins before kissing your forehead and nuzzling his nose against yours

“We can shut it off if you want to baby, if it’s too much for you” His hands slide from your face to your waist and he manages to pull you into his lap.

“I’m not a baby” You roll your eyes and he leans back against the armrest, appreciating the way you look on top of him

“I know you’re not”

“Okay so! I can… finish the movie”

He reaches forward and you lay on his chest, snuggling into him and he hits play again. His fingers trail down your spine and he’s actually a little worried you might make it to the end of the movie…

Until he looks down at you and your eyes are shut tight. He chuckles and pauses the movie again

“Hey…look at me Sugar”

You look into his eyes and he smirks, settling his hand on your lower back. He rubs your back soothingly, and you seem to relax against him

“You know… we seriously don’t have to watch this movie anymore. I can think of other things that could entertain us”

“Other things huh?” You say quietly and he cups your cheek

“Mhmmm…” he drags his thumb over your bottom lip and you blush

“Interesting proposal…” He feels your thighs spread as you settle on top of him and he bites back a groan

“I just really want to get your mind off of things… since you’re so scared”

“How noble”

He holds your hips and pushes you up a little higher so you’re fully face-to-face. You lean down and brush your nose against his and he growls and nips at your ear. You giggle and pull away again before leaning back down and kissing his nose

“It doesn’t have to be all the way… I’m not that promiscuous… but you know-“ He rubs your back again and you nod along with him

“Maybe we just make out?” You offer and he smiles oh so innocently, like this was all entirely your idea

“If you’d like…” He shrugs and you shake your head

“I would like, very much so”

And that was what brought him to now, completely spaced out in a world of your bliss and thoroughly enjoying the seductive way you tangled your tongue with his. How you dragged your tongue along his teeth, exploring every inch of his mouth while he eagerly did the same.

He keeps his hands splayed across your lower back, urging you to keep grinding on him. He nearly had a heart attack when you let him pull your skirt up around your hips so he could feel your tiny panties grinding against the front of his jeans. He moans quietly and that seems to spur you on, you reach between the two of you and shyly start to unbuckle his pants

“Whatcha doin’ there cutie?” He presses hot kisses down your throat and you shiver

“Just kinda wanna feel a little more of you I guess” You moan his name breathily and he reaches down with you, helping you get him out of his jeans. He unzips the side of your skirt and you let him push it down over your hips. He snickers and you blush, looking down.

“What??”

“These are cute as hell” he snaps the band on your g-string with the open heart on the front and pointedly ignores the fact that you’d apparently taken great care with your Valentine’s preparations.

“Is that all that’s cute?” You sit up, change the angle of your hips and let out a shuddering breath. He shoves his boxers down his hips and fists his cock, pulling it out of his pants and stroking it slowly. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head and he grins, rubbing his thumb over the tip and smearing his pre-cum over it.

“You looked so pretty today, coming into the station… you wore that just for me? Those fucking heels were just for me?” He’s panting as you both get off together, you grinding on his thigh and him jerking off to your bouncing tits

“It was all for you,” You say breathlessly and start to inch your way up his body. You place your palm on his chest and pull your panties to the side and he watches with eager curiosity.

It’s embarrassing the way he literally almost bursts right there, while you drag your clit over his tip and between your folds, and he can tell from the high-pitched gasp that you feel exactly the same way.

Your head falls forward and you moan in unison. He grabs your hips and helps you move on his cock, both of you panting and gasping, his cock catches on your hole with each thrust and you squeeze your thighs together and try not to let him sink deep inside you.

You scratch at his chest and he yanks you down against him, holding you to his chest. You squeak and let him crush you to his chest with each thrust of his hips, you cry into his shoulder and bite down and he growls into your ear

“I’m so close, fuck Eddie I’m so close” You cry for him and he plants his feet on the couch and pistons his hips against yours, you can feel his tip poking in and out of you each time and if you went any longer you’d lose your damn mind and put it inside you

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing over you and sending you spiraling backward. You moan his name loudly and he’s got you locked into his chest as he growls out your name and finishes between the two of you. Your hips slip and stutter against his as he just keeps coming and coming and you’re left a soaked mess.

You blink back the stars in your eyes as you come down slowly. He rubs your back again, more so patting it as he floats back down to earth with you.

“Holy shit” You pant into his neck and he nods with you

“You can say that again…” He smacks his hands on your ass and you yelp “fuck could you say that again” He grinds your hips into his and you whimper, your thighs shaking.

“Holy shit” You whisper in his ear and he smirks, suddenly getting up and you squeak and scramble to hold onto him. He pulls away just enough for you to see the fire in his eyes, that dark cloudy stare that lets you know this was only the beginning.

“How does round two in my bedroom sound?”

#words by rhys #rhys writes #911 x reader #eddie diaz #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #911 show #911 abc #911 fic #911 #911 fanfic #valentine’s day 2025 #valentines day

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adddddiiii · 1 day ago

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Crimson Eclipse

3. No Safe Haven

It had been several hours since you crashed at Sofie’s place, and the tension hadn’t eased for a second. Every flicker of a shadow or unexpected sound made your pulse jump. You were still hunched over your laptop, fingers gliding across the keys as you scanned encrypted data from the drive.

"Are you ever going to sleep?" Sofie asked from the couch. She was watching you with growing concern.

"Can’t afford to," you muttered. "Not when Serpentis is probably watching every corner of this city for me. Also I need to meet him at midnight."

You both knew very well who he was.

Sofie sighed. "So are you finally going to tell me how you got into this mess in the first place?"

You leaned back and rubbed your tired eyes.

"I was hired," you admitted quietly. "Some anonymous buyer reached out. Big money to lift encrypted files from a secure server. I didn’t ask too many questions. I just… needed the cash."

"But?" Sofie prompted.

"But when I grabbed the files and went to the meet-up spot a few hours ago, no one showed. Except Red Hood," you explained. "That’s when I knew I was in trouble. And then, well, we both saw what was on the drive."

Sofie's brows furrowed. "Right... what exactly is on it, other than the shady military stuff?

You hesitated. "Lots of stuff. Shipment routes, blackmail material, bribery logs. But the worst part? Names."

Her eyes widened. "Names?"

You nodded grimly. "Of Serpentis operatives. Safehouses. Transactions. Some more clues and evidence, and it would be enough to tear them down. No wonder they want me dead."

Sofie whistled softly. "So what does Red Hood have to do with all this?"

You shook your head. "Maybe the usual vigilante stuff, I don’t know. But I’m going to find out."

——————————————————————

You found yourself at Dock 17 later that night, the salty sea breeze biting at your skin. The docks were nearly deserted, save for the occasional distant hum of a ship’s engine. You clutched the flash drive tightly in your pocket, scanning the shadows for any sign of him.

"You’re late."

The voice came from behind you. You spun around, heart racing, and there he was — Red Hood, perched on a stack of shipping crates, arms crossed over his chest.

"You said midnight. It’s a minute past twelve," you shot back.

He chuckled softly under the modulated mask. "Still late."

You crossed your arms, trying to mask your nervousness. "Why did you want to meet?"

Red Hood jumped down gracefully, landing just a few feet from you. "Because you’re in deeper than you think."

"Yeah, I got that when you said I couldn't go to my own home," you retorted.

He tilted his head. "There’s a bounty on you."

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

"Serpentis put a price on your head. Alive or dead, doesn’t matter. And trust me, there’s a long line of people ready to collect."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Why are you telling me this?"

He sighed, and lowered his voice slightly. "Because I know what Serpentis is capable of. I’ve been after them for months, trying to dismantle their operations. They’re dangerous, and now they’re coming for you."

"So what? You’re offering me protection out of the goodness of your heart?" you scoffed. You were way past caring about what he would to you if he heard the challenge in your voice. He did say he wouldn't hurt you. Didn't he?

"No," he replied bluntly. "I’m offering you a deal. You help me bring them down, and I’ll make sure you survive long enough to see it happen."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't last the week."

You hated that he was right.

Hesitantly, you admitted, "Even if I wanted to lie low, I don’t have anywhere safe to go anymore. You said I can't go to my home, so I went to a friend's place. I don't want to put her in any more danger."

There was a pause. Red Hood’s stance shifted, the silence stretching uncomfortably long.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked in surprise as he ran a gloved hand over the dented surface of his helmet.

"Fine," he said, almost reluctantly. "You stay at my place. Temporary. Don’t get comfortable."

"What?!" Your eyes widened. "Why would I stay with you. I would rather die!"

"Be my guest," he grunted out.

You chewed your lip for a moment, contemplating. You didn't actually want to die. And staying with him wouldn't be so bad, right?

You sighed. "You’re serious?"

"No," he deadpanned. "I just like saying things for dramatic effect. Yes, I’m serious."

You huffed out a small laugh, despite yourself. "Wow. Charming."

"I’m not doing this for brownie points," he replied flatly. "Let’s go before I change my mind."

As you followed him into the night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just made a deal with the devil — or the only person who could save you from one.

< prev |

Taglist: @uncalicous @a-lil-bit-nuts @celloccino @treeteaofversailles @promnightbinbaby @theroyalmanatee @rowannin @bungunz

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ani-iu · 2 days ago

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[𝟏/𝟐] 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 | angel 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 × female sinner 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 × 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are a sinner in Hell, and you want to die—permanently. You own nothing, not even your soul, and struggle every day just to exist. That is why you view the annual exterminations as your only hope and the last pardon from God to sinners.

When the day comes and you lie down with an exorcist angel hovering above you, you accept your fate with a serene smile on your face. Finally, you will be free.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

But your executioner just had to be the first man himself.

Killing sinners when they want it is not as fun, which is why Adam presents you with a deal—your kind likes those, right? He will kill you, but only if you are willing to listen to him spill everything that is weighing on his soul. Dead tell no tales, and Adam really needs someone to talk to.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: angst; bittersweet ending; implied/referenced suicide; suicidal thoughts; implied/referenced rape/non-con; rape/non-con elements; drug use and addiction; self-image issues; canon-typical violence; explicit sexual content; dubious consent; unhealthy power dynamic expressed through cannibalism; religious imagery & symbolism; religious guilt; Adam being Adam; blood and gore; dead dove: do not eat. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7,6k.

// wrath of god

𝐘ou were falling for a while—as if everything slowed down the moment you jumped.

At first, you had your eyes opened. The crisp late November air was cold but not unpleasant against your sweaty skin—invigorating even—and when you opened your mouth, it tasted of a faint hint of ice and stifling city pollution. You never felt so at peace as you did at that moment, so you allowed your tense body to surrender itself to gravity rather quickly and without much fight.

It was only once you got closer to splattering against the pavement that you finally closed your eyes and, with a palpitating heart, braced yourself for the impact. But it never came.

You just kept falling.

And falling.

Delayed confrontation with your painful death not only confused you but also twisted your stomach in a suffocating swirl of anxiety-inducing inevitability and sick giddiness. Was this the moment I would see my life flash in front of me?

You wished—no—you needed to catch a vivid glimpse of your sun-drenched childhood days, unclouded by the passing of time. It wouldn’t have changed a thing. You already made your irreversible decision. However, it felt strange not to cry in this circumstance, and perhaps childhood nostalgia would have been able to squeeze a few drops out of you.

To be honest, you didn’t know who you were trying to please with the waterworks, but after spending your entire life seeking approval from others, you wanted to end it the same way by showing off to the first responders your glossy, tear-stained cheeks while they scrape off your mangled body from the asphalt.

Yet, all you could think of was the ten-minute countdown toward the end, which played inside your mind on a taunting loop—ending the moment you hopped over the railing to your death and starting again the moment the door of the balcony clicked shut behind you.

Click.

Back pressed against the glass, you stand frozen in place for a moment, simply listening to the clamour of the city below. Icy snowflakes fall over your shoulders, creating a comforting blanket of pure white, but your body quickly melts it all away as if something as tainted as you didn’t deserve its biting solace.

You clutch your phone close to your chest like it is the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment.

Carefully and without loosening your deadly grip, you peel the device away until the screen senses your face and unlocks itself, presenting you with a lengthy list of contacts.

Thumb gliding over the wet screen as you scroll through hundreds of numbers brings you back to reality alongside a heavy feeling in your gut. You are reminded of just how useless the device is to you.

But your desperation has grown since the last time you contemplated reaching out for help. To the point you even consider setting aside any animosity you hold toward your mother. You could reach out to her, but, childishly, you have her contact listed under her name, and, well, her name turns out to be common enough to have three namesakes saved in your contacts, making it impossible to decide which one to call.

Yet, you don’t even try to call at least one of them. Your pride is stuck inside your throat—impossible to swallow. So you lock your phone and drop it into your coat pocket, substituting the device for a pack of cigarettes.

The filter sticks to your dry lips while you intensely watch the flame repeatedly lose the fight against the wind. Yet, with furrowed eyebrows, you refuse to let the fire die—rolling your thumb against the steel wheel of the lighter to spark it up again.

And again.

The moment smoke hits the back of your throat, you release a sigh of contentment before taking a shaky lungful. All the tension leaves your body as you lean against the safety railing and shake the ash into the darkness below, watching it dance together with the falling snowflakes in one harmonious rhythm.

"Tempting, isn't it?"

So much for peace and quiet.

You push away from the edge and twist your body toward the devil himself.

You just had to get in his way, had to catch his predatory gaze from across the room after one of the fashion shows you were modelling at. As if any of this was even my choice. Nothing was. I didn't choose him, but he chose me—to drug, defile, and pass around his pretentious, disgusting buddies.

Said man is leaning against the doorway, his dark hair blending in with the night. He turns his head toward the railing you are leaning against and follows his suggestion with a mocking laugh. "It’s not like you would be missed. After all, you are still here."

He leaves you after that, not bothering to close the door behind him. He knows you will come back. You always do.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette, you watch it free fall and just disappear into the pitch-black abyss below—used and discarded. You still remember how light the filter felt in between your fingers. I bet its fall is light too—

You take a step back as if the wet phone in your pocket has finally short-circuited and electrocuted you.

I am loved, you tell yourself as you push your freezing hand into your pocket until your bony fingers curl around the cell phone.

You haven’t entertained the thought of jumping until now. That should show that this isn’t your doing; these aren’t your thoughts. He is the parasite that infected yet another aspect of your life.

Pulling out the device with shaking hands, you stare at an empty lock screen.

He is lying, trying to get a rise out of you, your racing mind supplies as your grip tightens.

The screen turns dark, and the phone stays silent. You hold it for a while longer—your phone as well as your breath.

The air you exhale comes out as a puffy cloud. You look up at the sky and the falling snowflakes. They cover your face in small blotches, their coldness lasting a moment like a small, calming kiss against your burning skin. Then they melt and roll down your face and down your neck into the inside of your shirt.

Daring a glance over the railing, you slowly become mesmerised by the serenity and tranquillity that darkness provides.

And you can’t help but believe him.

No one would notice if I just disappeared.

With that last thought, you finally hit the ground with a jarring slam. The impact knocked the remaining air out of your lungs, paralysing your body with the most overwhelming pain and making any kind of movement impossible for a short moment. A bloodcurdling scream pierced right through the ringing in your ears, and only when you felt your throat burn did you realise that the screaming belonged to you—not some kind of wounded animal.

Pain was the clearest indication that you were still alive, and fearing that you had somehow managed to survive your attempt, you opened your eyes only to be confronted with a reality that was even worse than that.

The air around you was heavy like lead, crushing your whole being to the ground and filling your lungs with sour and bitter fumes. Everything around you was drenched in red. It was as if you fell through the earth's crust all the way to its magmatic middle. The seemingly impossible scenario would have provided an explanation for the long fall and seemed much more plausible to you than what the pentagram above would imply.

However, before you could comprehend your current predicament to the full extent, the dainty silver cross that you always wore around your neck began to burn you through your clothing, causing you to grip it without a second thought and frantically tug on the chain to take it off. It scorched your palm, filling the air with the nauseatingly sweet smell of burnt flesh.

If asked, you wouldn’t have been able to say for certain how long it took for it to finally break—you still don’t know—you just remember the short-lived relief, which quickly got overshadowed by the heavy implication of the aftermath.

There was an ugly taste in the back of your throat as you watched in horror how the precious metal melted in front of your eyes, becoming so hot that the silver puddle turned red and blended in with the ground beneath your feet. You wanted to scream in horror, but all that left your throat was a pathetic whimper.

Not only were you in Hell, but this gesture felt like the God you prayed to your whole life just slammed the door of His home right in front of your face.

At some point, you had managed to drag yourself into a nearby alley to get your bearings. But the moment your heavy head hit the wall, one of the back doors opened, and you saw a demon being tossed out, their bones cracking as they rolled down the steep flight of stairs, landing right by your feet.

That's how you met Isaac—a sinner whom you genuinely considered a friend, even though you sometimes wondered if he was real or merely a figment of your imagination, given how he made your afterlife a tiny bit more bearable. His optimism was infectious, yet you couldn't miss the way his smile always hinted at the regret he never fully expressed to you. But it wasn't like you divulged much about yourself either, as fear always held you back despite your longing for connection.

That’s who you were—a coward. And you stayed true to that title, remaining hidden in the shadows even while Isaac was being butchered by an angel from Heaven.

You physically couldn’t move. Instead, you attempted to justify your cowardice by reminding yourself how agonisingly painful regeneration is for sinners. If you also got hurt, no one else would take care of your friend, so you stayed in your hideout until the early hours of the morning when the flock of angels finally retreated back into the sky.

Once you approached the scene, all you saw were the fleshy pieces scattered on the brimstone. If you hadn’t witnessed the slaughter for yourself, there would be no way for you to put a name to the innards that were left behind.

You sat there, cradling the wet chunks of meat in your frail hold, until night fell. It wasn't until the end of the next day that it finally dawned on you that Isaac was not coming back.

And for the first time since your arrival in Hell, you smiled.

In your despair, you had forgotten that when God closes the door, He opens a window. And as you hugged the rotting meat closer to yourself until the mince spilt out of your embrace, you thanked God—in the form of a little prayer murmured under your nose—for showing you that window of hope.

Since then, the only thing on your mind has been next year's extermination.

» » »

It was definitely suicide that earned you a one-way ticket to Hell, yet sometimes you can't help but wonder if it's modelling.

It's a stupid thought, and it’s not like it matters that much now anyway, but being stuck in Hell—a place where sinners endure repetitive and eternal punishment tailored to their sins—and doing the same thing you did in life... damn it, you just can’t help but wonder if that’s what got you here in the first place.

After all, it seems that everything went downhill in your life and afterlife once you signed your modelling contract—both times signing away your soul.

Even so, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your eyes never squint when the stage lights cut you out from the surrounding darkness. And the rush you get—it’s almost worth everything unpleasant that comes with it. It’s your Achilles heel and the only thing you can still enjoy down here.

You also used to love the mirror and how it reflected your carefully crafted image, but now it mocks you. Your reflection is mostly blurry, and your features look so warped that it’s as if your mind can’t fully comprehend your new appearance. Guilt. Maybe this is your true punishment—not the eternal flames of Hell, but the torment of your own gaze.

So you meticulously navigate the house of mirrors that is Velvette’s studio, your head downturned in sorrow and shame like a wannabe penitent Mary Magdalene.

You conceal this weakness in character under the guise of being for others' eyes and not your own—a product of the Vees for the masses to consume. The self-effacing slogan is intriguing and seems to work for Velvette. You are a mannequin for her pretty clothes, and that’s it. She cares very little about your inner demons.

But nothing matters anymore, as you make your way down the hall for one last stop before you go to find yourself an empty spot somewhere in the streets. You doubt it will be difficult to do that. It shouldn't be crowded. Not tonight, at least.

For a year you suffered through Velevette’s verbal and physical abuse, avoided Vox’s reflective screen, and tried to stay away from Valentino. He was the most difficult of the Vees to avoid. And that is saying much, as even now—as you make your way down the hall—you keep pulling onto the silk lapels of your robe in a desperate attempt to hide your exposed skin from the blinking cameras seemingly at every corner.

You wanted to escape Valentino. You really did. But you were dependent on the overlord.

The pain from your fall never left you. It weighs on you like a heavy burden of sin. It’s Hell—you are supposed to suffer—yet coming to terms with it doesn’t make it better.

The drugs do. They placate the pain for a short while, but it all comes back sooner or later. Bit by bit, it returns slowly, like some sick joke. But it’s bearable at first, and it tricks you into thinking that you can manage it on your own. You don’t need the drugs. You don’t need him. However, then it comes back just as unbearable as it was before, and your resolve gets crushed, allowing Valentino to play a saviour again.

Your footsteps are quiet. The magenta carpeting below muffles the clicking sound your high heels make, and the further you venture away from Velvette’s side of the building, the sparser all the mirrors become and the higher your chin raises.

Finally, you come to a stop in front of the double door.

With your arms at your sides, you try to remind yourself of the shame you feel every time you leave his penthouse, that it’s not worth it. Valentino’s smoke made you retch, and his touch made you sick, but it all also reminded you of the time when you were alive. The most horrible parts of it, but for you—someone who is desperately clinging to the last remnants of their humanity—it was a comforting reminder.

You open the door to what can only be described as a sanctum of vanity. You step into Valentino’s carefully crafted reality, an empire built on charm and exploitation, bleeding hedonism from its every crevice. The air is clouded in a thick mist of smoke, hiding the true danger within. Yet even if you can’t see him, you can sense his presence and feel his invisible gaze undressing you from afar.

And suddenly your surroundings become insignificant.

"Ah, I was wondering if you would show your beautiful face tonight. Are you done playing hard to get?" A voice emerges somewhere from the thick, pink cloud of smoke. Valentino shifts from lying back on one of the opulent loveseats into a sitting position, legs spread apart, inviting. Coincidentally, he has also exchanged his usual attire for an old Hollywood-style robe, befitting his role as a film director, you suppose. It has flowing sleeves adorned with fluffy trim around the edges that Velvette would most likely describe as tacky and cheap-looking. "Come on, don’t keep me waiting, muñeca."

You don’t say anything as you step further into the room, the door closing shut behind you. Valentino already has you in his trap, ever since you took your first breath in this room. Your eyelids feel heavy until they drop to cover half of your irises, mirroring your body as you subserviently lower yourself onto your knees before the tall, hulking moth overlord and crawl closer to him.

You hear Valentino chuckle as he exhales another puff of smoke that caresses your skin with a featherlike softness and wraps around your ankles like chains, slowing down your movements by weighing down your limbs. The bliss you feel—as you inhale more of the vinaceous and just as intoxicating smoke—is overwhelming.

Your robe creeps up with every move, exposing your bare calves. Another move and it’s your thighs on display.

Valentino extends his hand to you like salvation—like a lifeline to which you can’t help but cling every single time, even if you say to yourself it’s the last time. Even if right now you feel utterly humiliated and disappointed with yourself.

Once he wraps his fingers around your wrist, he drags you like a ragdoll until you are kneeling between his spread-out knees. With your arm still in his bruising grasp, you support your weight on your free one, pressing your palm into a velveteen cushion beside his leg. Now that both of your hands are occupied, you lower your face towards his crotch, gazing up at him as you do.

As you are about to reach and lift the thin layer of his robe with your teeth, Valentino tugs your pliant body on top of his until you find your place in his lap instead. A startled gasp followed up by a little whine leaves your mouth—he caught you off guard, and the way he forcefully pulls you up hurts, but the little sound might as well be interpreted by the man as disappointment towards him taking away a sweet treat from you.

"Eager little thing you are." His tone is teasing and overlaid with his smooth, saccharine-sweet accent. But that is only the surface level. You can’t help but pick up a tinge of surprise in Valentino’s voice, like he is surprised by your audacity to try and avoid him and then attempt to suck his dick, the action that he regards as a prize rather than a torment to your jaw.

A shiver runs down your spine, and your empty stomach swirls with unease as all you can do is go along with whatever he has in store for you, even if it feels like being accompanied on a walk and seeing a guillotine at the end of the trail.

His lower set of arms brushes up and down along your thighs, eyes never leaving your body while you take that time to work on tugging and tearing at the silky fabric to expose more of your skin for his enjoyment, bearing it all to his hungry gaze. He hums in approval, moving his hands upwards from your thighs until his palms rest on your ass and hips, nudging you to get closer to him.

Your knees tremble from the force and from having to support the weight of your body, so you sit down, feeling him already hard underneath the thin layer of his robe. You sigh, unable to suppress the involuntary throb between your legs which spurs you into grinding against Valentino just to feel some kind of relief for the itch you can’t seem to scratch on your own.

"I knew you would be back. There’s no way a little dependent slut like you could get away." His hands, still resting on your backside, take a firmer grip on the plump flesh, helping you move faster, harder. The friction sends pleasant tingles across your whole body, and you close your eyes, greedily enjoying the pleasure while it lasts, which you know won’t be long. You are so lost in it that you don’t even notice when one of Valentino’s hands from his upper set of arms roughly grabs you by your jaw, bringing your face in line with his. "Even if you try."

Valentino’s palm unassumingly rests on the column of your neck for a bit, until his grip tightens and he forcefully hoists you up till you are back on your knees. You roughly swallow down your answer and simply nod. If you weren’t Velvette’s prized model, Valentino would have snatched you for the studio a long time ago.

His lips stretch into a satisfied smirk, but it doesn’t bring you much comfort.

For a second your gaze flutters downwards, where you notice that his other hand has moved to grab his cock that already has beads of precum spilling to the surface of the tip. He smears it with his thumb and gives his whole length a few languid strokes with little amusement.

Finally, he lets go of your face and this time brings his bruising touch up to your waist while he aligns his tip with your dripping folds.

Valentino is not gentle, and he doesn’t waste time on anything apart from his own pleasure—pushing his cock inside you with no care for your comfort. The stretch, as your bruised inner walls try to accommodate him on such short notice and with no preparation, is excruciating.

You grab his shoulders and try to slow down the painful descent while taking deep breaths in order to relax your muscles before Valentino loses his patience.

Speaking of the man—he leans back to watch over the stiff, trembling mess that is you with a bored yet contemplative expression. One of his upper set of hands rests comfortably over the backrest of the loveseat, his fingers drumming against the velvet upholstery. The other brings the cigarette holder closer to his lips.

"I—ngh!" can’t is what you want to say but are unable to through gritted teeth. It was a mistake to come here, your inner voice screams at you, and you scream back, I know that!

Your cunt clenches around him as your body naturally tries to push him out of you, but then he blows another plume of the headily noxious smoke into your face and smirks as he watches how your pupils instantaneously dilate.

What you inhale knocks down your defences and allows Valentino to forcefully thrust the rest of himself into you. All you can do is dig your nails into his shoulder blades and throw your head back in relief that the worst is over.

The force is a silent threat that you understand clearly, so before he gets angry, you pick yourself up on shaky legs and lower yourself down on his throbbing cock, adopting a pace you know he enjoys while bouncing through the pain.

Desperately searching for a way to take your mind off the situation, you peek over his shoulder at the window walls that provide you with the sprawling skyline of Pentagram City. But not for long.

As the sky behind the glass slowly turns into a slightly deeper and darker shade of vermilion, the outside vanishes, leaving you to stare at the reflection of the room, which makes Valentino’s penthouse look isolated and endless.

You can see the outline of your figure reflected in the glass like your body is still there; you can feel it mounted on Valentino’s cock, but your consciousness is back there by the window, akin to a frigidly indifferent onlooker watching from a distance, judging.

The ache from the overlord’s bruising touch is gone, as is the excruciating pain lingering from your fall to damnation. You just feel numb.

The face of your reflection is a swirl of colour—a mix of your skin tone, the tint of your lips, and the hue of your irises—as if the image is so unrecognisable to your brain that it cannot even generate the most basic human features. You hardly remember what you look like as is; it would not matter if the reflection is accurate either way.

Valentino grabs you by the hair and brings your attention back to the present moment by aligning your face with his own. You could see yourself reflected in his glasses if not for the tears glossing over your vision.

Both of your lips are parted and inches away—his hot breath mixes with your own to the point you can taste the sickly sweet remnants of smoke on your tongue.

With half-lidded eyes, you pant out breathless little ah ah ah’s every time his hips meet with your own, and a little shudder accompanying his every exhale is the only indicator that he somewhat enjoys this and isn’t just doing it as a humiliating punishment.

Valentino is close. His thrusts have become more erratic, chasing after his own need for release.

You whimper when he lowers his head and, with hot lips, grazes the dewy skin pulled taut over your collarbone—not yet kissing it but close. Oh, so close.

A girl can dream about a tender little kiss, and in a momentary lapse in judgement, you allow that possibility to hang heavy in the air like the cloying smell of sex as you tilt your head slightly sideways and lift your chin, leaving your neck vulnerable to him to do as he pleases.

But Valentino doesn’t do sweet little kisses, and if that well-known character quirk of his did not clue you in, then a gust of breath over your pulse point should have been a warning.

"Ah!"

Valentino sinks his teeth into the juncture where your neck and shoulder connect. The pleasant pressure in your lower stomach gets replaced with a sinking feeling as the sharp pain locks your whole body with excruciating pain.

He spills himself into your trembling body while you weakly push against him in an attempt to get away, but all it does is help him tear the chunk of meat and tendons out of your body.

Valentino growls into your open wound, and you stop resisting. His hot cum flowing down your legs is as uncomfortably hot as the bile rising up your throat.

You hear him loudly gulp down the bloody chunk and chuckle, "It doesn’t matter that I don’t own your soul on paper. You will always be mine. Even when this heals up," he licks a long stripe against the pulsing wound, making you gasp and squirm. The deceptively charming tone of his voice is gone just like that, replaced by one with a warning undertone exhaled right into the bloody injury. "There will always be a piece of you missing. Don’t make me wait for you next time."

Like a child hiding a broken vase before your parents even notice the glass shards, you smile at him, knowing that after tonight you will have nothing to worry about. You could make any promise; it won’t matter.

You exhale contentedly, "I won’t, Valentino. Never."

Valentino hums, stroking your upper arm with soft, sensual caresses, none the wiser to your plans. The unusual gentleness, alongside lightheadedness from blood loss and rhythmic throbbing in your neck, begins to slowly lull you to sleep. Your eyelids grow heavier with every touch that Valentino spares you, and unconsciously you begin to negotiate with yourself, only for a little bit… I will close my eyes for a moment… Hell knows I deserve it—

Doubtful that sinners have guardian angels, but unable to explain the sudden need to meet Valentino’s palpably piercing gaze in any other way, you cannot do anything but thank God that you do before you succumb to the temptation of sleep.

The terror in that moment is greater than exhaustion. You quickly scramble to your feet, swaying to the sides like a sapling trying its best to hold up against the wind.

Your arms are shaking and going numb; you can’t even feel the piece of clothing in your hands. A thin layer of fresh skin has already stretched over the wound at the base of your neck, but as you tug your robe back onto your shoulders, the thin layer rips, blinding you with pain until the black spots in your vision grow bigger.

Gentle, the man is not, and still knowing this, you almost fell for the trap. All this time, he has seen through you and almost ensnared you. Shame on you for thinking yourself to be wiser.

Valentino hasn’t made a move to drag you back. He… just smiles, while one of his many arms is twirling the cigarette holder between long, dexterous fingers. The fresh smoke hits your nose, and you feel your mouth start watering.

You don’t play with untamed fire for any longer than you already have, quickly making your way on wobbly legs towards the door. It slams shut with a resounding thud, but not before Valentino’s mocking purr slips through the crack and hits you on the way out.

"Better hurry, muñeca."

Hyperventilating, you stumble into a wall. The stale smell of smoke permeates the air even outside Valentino’s room in the hallway. There’s a taste of bile in the back of your throat as you feel it coming up, but all you can do is lean your forehead against the wall, close your eyes, and ride it out without, hopefully, regurgitating the stomach acids on the carpet.

With an exhale, you will yourself to open your eyes, afraid of falling asleep. Not here, not now.

Your wounded arm hangs limp beside you as the drops of viscous blood drip from the tips of your fingers onto the carpeting below.

Finally, you push yourself to stand straight, and with an ungainly walk, you exit the tower.

You look back only once.

Lost in a trance-like daze, you don't know how long you wandered the streets or when you managed to doze off in the spot you ultimately decided to pick as your final resting place. When you jump awake, all you know is that you eventually did.

The first of seven loud, steely bell rings echoes through the air, symbolising the start of the extermination. It is soon followed by the second and the third one.

In the rubble and decay left over from the last extermination, desperate sinners get ready for a new one—scrambling to hide against the inevitable.

Feeling indifferent towards their plight, you hug your knees closer to your chest, take out your last cigarette, and press the tip against the ground to light it. You take the first puff and close your eyes, exhaling the acrid smoke through your nose with a shaky breath as another loud chime rings through the air and sends a shiver down your spine.

You are ready to die, your inner voice tries to placate you as you subconsciously dig your heels into the ground with an overwhelming want to flee. You never wanted to die—not in life, nor the after. All you wish is for the pain to finally stop. And if this is what it’s going to take…

Another inhale.

You flick the ash, some of it falling on the tip of your stiletto. You don’t bother brushing it away. Instead, you raise your gaze to take in your surroundings and can't help but feel something swirling inside your stomach. Is that... longing?

Not for Hell, that’s for sure, but rather resurfacing memories that this part of the Pride Ring brings to the forefront of your mind. You are in the industrial area of Pentagram City, nestled somewhere behind the Carmine factories. Maybe it’s weird to find nostalgia in concrete, but as you remember yourself, you were always the sentimental type, especially before dying. And looking at the sculptural, dilapidated buildings—that are only good at serving a functional purpose—reminds you of your home before you got swept up in the fake glamour of the fashion world.

Concrete’s grey colour gives off a cold feeling to many, but you harbour a different kind of sentiment towards monochrome structures. You rarely visited your childhood home after your career as a model kicked off, so the memories you have of it are saturated with the dreamlike wonder of a curious child whose mind worked tirelessly to supply colour to even the most drab parts of suburbia.

And in her youthful eyes, the concrete was never cold—not in colour, and most definitely not in feeling.

Be it the sunset, painting the walls of a concrete-panelled five-storey apartment building in the warmest of colours, or your little self trying to climb on top of the concrete tunnels at the playground that had been exposed to the sun all day—your palms firmly pressed against the warm, rough surface as you pushed yourself upward, straining to lift your body on top, and painfully scraping your bare knees until they were stained with warm blood and throbbed with hot pain. To you, the concrete was warm and felt like home.

Until it didn’t.

You grew, and the oversaturated lens through which you used to gaze at life began fading out into an all-consuming fog of depressing grey. You wanted more from the miserable existence, chased unreachable dreams and that childhood high, substituting the lack of colour in your life with artificial big city lights.

Simultaneously, your ambitions got bigger, but no accomplishment could replicate the youthful optimism you once had, and no drug could synthesise it.

You pursued the unattainable until you burnt out.

Casting your gaze at the filter between your fingers, you are taken out of your contemplative haze by another ring of the bell. You have gotten so lost in your own thoughts that you are unsure if it’s the fifth or the seventh ring.

Cries of murder have become white noise after two years of living in literal Hell, but these screams now are different. Sinners yell for others of their kind to hide, and at first, only the distant echoes of their desperation reach you. That is until the nearest sinner to you blocks your line of vision and screams into your face.

"Don’t just sit there! Hide—"

Just like that, an angelic steel-edged axe, bearing a close resemblance to a musical instrument, cuts the sinner obliquely through. His mouth doesn’t have time to even have time to close properly as the top half of his body is already sliding off to the ground before he can finish the sentence. His lower half follows soon after and crumbles down in the same spot he once stood.

Slimy, black intestines, like live eels, slither near your feet, angrily hissing at you as the hot ground underneath sizzles them. You attempt to dodge them with your feet, letting out a petrified squeal as one of them bursts open and the fountain of blood sprays along your skin and the silk fabric of your robe.

That last ring of the bell you heard a second ago was indeed the last one.

The sinner is no longer blocking your view, but before you can take a good look at who dealt them their final blow, you are being kicked in your chest, causing you to tumble backwards and your head to hit the ground with a sickening crack. Your eyes snap shut from the force and pain. And you keep them that way.

Your ears prickle at the sound of sandy gravel crunching underneath his steps until you feel the heavy-duty combat boot press into your chest cavity with a weight and hardness akin to that of metal.

Exorcist angels, like true bringers of death, pierce the congealed blood skies with their scythe-like wings in unparalleled grace and speed. Monochrome in their colour scheme reminds you of a more hellish version of a common swift. They are small yet lethal, but the angel on you, digging his boot into your barely covered skin, is bigger and heavier and, most importantly—set on making the punishing pain last.

Just your luck.

You try to breathe, but the pressure on your ribcage constricts your chest. The feeling is soon followed up by a sickening crack. And you couldn’t be happier. You have never felt as close to salvation as you did in this moment. The pain is almost euphoric.

Then, you feel the cold lick of the angel's blade against your neck, merely ghosting your skin. You arch your back in an absolutely sinful manner so the sharp silver edge of his weapon would glide against your skin, inviting him to slice it through.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You open your eyes to look at the demonic face of an angel, hm… ironic.

He doesn’t suit his surroundings. Be it the incandescence of a halo above his head, casting a saintly shine over him, or the soft pastel colour palette of his robes sticking out amidst the eternally burning inferno, like the whiteness of Heaven in the bloody sky.

Even the red blood of the sinner, running down his weapon and dripping near the angel’s feet, doesn’t seem to ruin his sanctimonious image. Filthy—yes, as it stains the pristine visage of something sacred, but spilt righteously.

The angel’s pitiless eyes glint like his unfurled, golden wings.

"Are you deaf?"

His voice is spiced with mockery, like an action of spitting on someone but expressed with words.

"No, I heard you. I’m just wondering why you haven’t killed me yet."

He looks at you and blinks twice, assessing the situation.

Then he gets up from you.

You hungrily inhale lungfuls of sulphuric air once the pressure lifts from your chest. Gasping, you scramble to reach out for him, cutting the pads of your fingers against the sharp blade of his axe. No— NO!

Without mercy, he swats your hand away with so much force that it numbly dangles beside you, but that’s when you try again with your other one. This one he grabs in his firm hold, applying pressure until your bones scream for you to surrender. As if you care about anything that happens to your ugly sinner body. You welcome pain.

He keeps you at arm's length like a flea-infested mongrel, but his words are as clear as if he had somehow gotten inside your head and screamed them into your mind.

"Bitch, you just had to ruin it for me! It’s no fun if you want it!"

You don't manage to say anything. You just open your mouth, gathering words. Not the first time I’ve heard those words from a man. There’s a pang in your chest. You have managed to ruin this not only for yourself but for others.

You are so insignificant, even killing you is not worth it.

"Sorry."

"Huh?"

"Please… I just want peace." Eternal peace.

The holographic mouth curls into an ugly snarl as he growls a wordless, ‘How dare you want something, and how dare you expect me to oblige?'

That was not the right thing to say.

The angel tugs you closer till you lose your balance and fall face-first into him, but before you can collide with his stomach, he manhandles you, grabbing you by the jaw. Your head is firmly tilted, forcing your gaze to meet his. His hand feels huge; long fingers envelop the entirety of the right side of your face while his thumb is jabbed into your cheek on the left, pushing the tender flesh inwards until it painfully smushes against the sharp edges of your molars and draws blood. His palm covers your mouth and nose, not allowing you to breathe. One squeeze of his hand and he could crush your head like a rotten fruit that has gone soft.

Instinctively, your body’s natural reaction is to grab your executioner by the wrist to stop him from causing you more harm. However, before your fingers can make contact with his inky skin, you quickly withdraw and forcefully drop your hand beside you, digging your nails into your fleshy thigh and tensing the muscles in your jaw. You will endure this—anything—if only it means that you will be free.

But that does not mean that this is not excruciating. It takes a lot for you to cry, yet the searing pain from his rough touch is enough to wet your eyelashes. You feel the stinging in your eyes, and as much as you don’t want to break down, you can’t keep the tears at bay.

So you cry.

Embarrassment ignites your cheeks as you feel the droplets wet your cheeks. The tears pool in the arch where his index finger and thumb connect, but it doesn’t repulse him away from you. Instead, it seems to pique his interest as he loosens his grip, allowing the salty droplets to roll down your skin.

Then he smears the liquid across your skin.

Time stands still in that moment. The screaming around you fades into nothing, replaced by the pounding of your heart inside your ears.

Adam was very much looking forward to this year’s extermination.

His self-pity and feelings of loneliness have flared up these days, and not even a quick fuck with a beautiful winner did it for him anymore. So what better way to rid himself of misery than by glutting his soul with merciless slaughter?

Adam was a hunter all his life. At a time when the earth was bare and there was little to entertain himself with other than the pleasures of the flesh, chasing wildlife was as much a means to get food as it was a source of entertainment.

And habits are difficult to quit.

Zoomorphic amalgamations replaced wild animals in the afterlife—both more or less the same, but admittedly, humans warped by sin were much more fun to hunt and butcher because of their human-like cognition. They were the ultimate prey.

As soon as Adam descended from Heaven, he swung his axe, slicing through the first deformed sinner with little thought or care put towards the action. He needed to get it out of his system, and fast.

Then why wasn’t he feeling better?

Deep down he knew that he really needed to talk to someone. His reflection in the mirror wasn’t cutting it anymore after millennia. But he could not trust anyone enough to open up. Who could fault him for that? Every time he dared to open his heart, he got played.

He would never repeat the same mistake.

But then the sinner crumbled to the ground, revealing you.

Adam was taken aback at first. You didn’t look the part.

And that made him livid. Was his mind messing with him?

He felt the anger boiling in his veins as he kicked you to the ground. Feeling the impact against his foot when it collided with your body, hearing your bones crack, and smelling your blood only reiterated that he was not hallucinating. You were real.

And on top of everything—you wished for death.

Who, or more precisely, what, were you?

He watched you struggle in his grasp like a fish that he plucked out of water with his bare hands.

When he saw those tears rolling down your cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel that surge of authority flow through him. That’s how you were supposed to look from the very first second of you two crossing paths—trembling, crying, and pleading to spare your life. Now you weren’t so brave, shaking like the last yellow leaf, barely holding up against the autumn wind. Pathetic.

But as the first teardrop finally travelled the short distance from your eyes towards the sharp edge of your jaw and unceremoniously fell between you two, the damned ground let out a hiss as if sprayed with holy water, leaving Adam to stand there wide-eyed. No, it couldn’t be—

His wet thumb glided across your cheek with precision as, with each stroke, he hoped to remove more and more makeup, but all he did was knead the dewy skin.

The angel’s face glitches, and that’s when he suddenly lets go of you, allowing you to free fall back to the ground.

"Okay, listen, here’s the deal. I hate giving sinners what they want, and death, well, it’s usually not their kink. But! I’m feeling generous and seeing how embarrassingly desperate you are—I have one condition." His voice takes a different tone, leaving you noticeably confused at the suddenness. "Listen to me vent, and I will slit your throat at the end."

On the ground, you prop yourself up on your elbows and look at him with your jaw slack. Splayed out with your legs bent at the knees, you stare at Adam unblinking.

After a moment of silence, you hide your face in your palm and mumble to yourself. "I really hit my head hard..."

"Whore," he warns, and your head snaps in his direction. You tug on the lapels of your robe, which, after everything that happened, barely covered your breasts, defiantly crossing your legs with furrowed eyebrows. "I will put a mark on you so no exorcist’s blade would ever touch your suicidal ass, and then you will spend the rest of your miserable existence—"

You contort your face into a forced smile.

"I will do it."

#hazbin hotel #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam x you #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader

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unintentionaloracle · 2 days ago

Text

Let's Try This Again [Fic]

(The Bloodline Doesn't Know Part Four/Finale)

(Part One, Two, and Three)

Happy Valentine's Day! Here it is! The end of the fic I did not intend to make a four parter (with part four being the hardest and with the most killed darlings) yet here we are!

Summary: In the wake of The Bloodline's explosion and Sami's secrets being revealed, Kevin calls on some advice. Sami reflects. And Roman, well... Can Sami get back what he lost? And will these men just...you know...talk to each other?

(Also I have mentions of Ambreigns (or would it be Moxreigns in this case?) but I kinda don't wanna tag it because...well, spoilers...(Trust me it hurt me too especially because I wanted to go more into it but pacing))

They'd ran away to some no-name motel after the post-Hell In A Cell SmackDown, like an outlaw couple on the run. Kevin knew that was how everyone probably saw them. Bonnie and Clyde. (Or maybe Bobby and Clyde?) He'd carried Sami over the threshold and slammed the door behind him, locking it before dropping him on the bed before crawling atop his partner in crime.

(He wished he could've done this the night he saved him, but that damn medical team whisked him away too fast.)

They kissed, Kevin knocking Sami’s damn hat away and gripping his lover's hair as best he could (he almost wished it was longer). Sami clung to him. As he moved on to kissing his neck, Sami went rigid, his nails digging into Kevin's back. He'd almost enjoy the sensation, if Sami hadn't let out an uncomfortable whimper. Kevin stopped immediately.

“You don't want this?” Kevin asked.

Sami shook his head. “I do want it. I want it so bad, baby. It's just...I still can't believe I did all that. Did you hear the crowd? No one's gonna forgive me...” He said.

“Hey,” Kevin said, cupping his face. “I'm alive because of you. We're together again because of you. They may not love you, but I do. That's worth it, right? That's enough?” He asked, not sure where that last question came from.

Sami looked into his eyes, his expression going soft. “Yeah. I've...I've missed you. I've missed us...” He stroked Kevin's face.

Kevin smirked, grabbing his hand and kissing his wrist. “I’ve missed you, too. Besides, what has anyone else gotten you? Nothing. Stick with me, Sami. I'll give you everything: titles, the world,” he leaned into his ear and practically purred, “me. Do you want that?”

Sami practically melted in his arms. “Yes~”

Kevin fumbled with Sami's jacket and shirt, buzzing with excitement. Yeah, he'd manipulated him to get to this point, but he really did miss this. Him. After years apart, he finally had Sami in his bed again, looking at Kevin like the world began and ended with him. Damn, he couldn't wait another minute. Especially when Sami was putty in his hands like this.

“Good,” he said as he rolled them both over, putting Sami on top, as he kissed him deeply. “Go ahead, you've earned this...”

---

Kevin sat in the park a block from the arena, all cried out, watching dogs run around. He picked up his phone and redialed the last number he called. He'd been trying for half an hour, but no luck so far.

“C’mon, pick up this time...” He huffed. The Prizefighter held his breath as the dial tone stopped.

“Hello? Kevin?” Becky asked.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Hey, Becky. Glad to hear you...” He took a deep breath. “I need to talk to someone. And you might be the only friend I have left.”

“What'd Sami do this time?” She asked, somewhat weary.

“...Why do you assume it's Sami?”

“You always get a certain tone when it's a Sami problem...” She said simply. “So...what'd he do?”

Kevin huffed. He explained the whole situation to Becky. How Sami lied and said he was his inside man in The Bloodline. How they'd been hooking up behind closed doors whenever Sami would pass “information” along. How, apparently, Sami had been lying about the nature of their relationship to Roman: that they were merely secretly dating. How Sami possibly broke The Bloodline up (with Jey's help). And finally, how once Sami told him, Kevin stormed out of his own car.

“He freaking lied to me, Becky! To my face! For weeks! I can't trust anything he said to me! That jerk was probably just using me for my hot body!” Kevin shouted over the phone. The passersby and their dogs all turned their attention to Kevin. He glared at them for being so nosy. They resumed their business.

“I mean, it's true you're the hot one of the three of us...” Becky said, consolingly. “But what if Sami really did mean well? You know Sami. Guy's got a big heart...”

“...But he's not as smart as he thinks he is.” Becky and Kevin said, in-sync. They shared a quick laugh.

Kevin then sighed. “He still shouldn't have lied! Why would he need to lie!?”

“I mean, lately you've been pretty...aggressive,” Becky stated.

“What do you mean?”

“Kevin, how many men's careers have you tried to end with a piledriver in the last few months?” Becky asked, sounding more like his exasperated mother than his possibly only friend.

He didn't answer. For some reason, he felt a lot less righteous pride about it when Becky put it that way.

��“Uh huh.” She said.

Kevin rubbed his face. “But still, he usually forgives me for that stuff! Even when I do it to him!” He said.

“Yeah, because he loves you and you know it. How many times has he thrown away everything he had for you?”

He looked down at his lap, feeling something he hadn't felt in forever: guilt. “...I love him, too. But he hurt me, Becky. At the end of the day, all I wanted was for him to pick me. To be by my side...”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No...”

Becky took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m not saying you should forgive him, but you should at least tell him that. Maybe hear him out instead of storming out of your car...”

Kevin groaned. “Ugh, and he has my title, too! He might be a goody two shoes and return it...”

“Or not. I mean, you've been banging for weeks. If he was gonna steal it back for everyone...”

“Good point...” Kevin relented. He especially remembered an instance where he had Sami wear the thing (in his underwear, he wasn't a certain influencer) while he took some spicy photos “for the road”. Sami looked so good in gold. Especially with the yellow strands of hair among his copper locks complementing it. He hated the length, but it made a beautiful halo around him on the pillow whenever he–

Not the time! You're still mad at him! He thought.

“So, what's your next move?” Becky asked.

Kevin took a minute to think.

---

Sami lost track of time as he still sat in Kevin's rental. He'd stopped crying, but he couldn't move. He just felt...numb. Everything had come crashing down on him all at once, and now everything he had was gone. His found family, his best friend/love of his life... All because he just couldn't stop.

“I just wanted to keep you both...” He said to himself. “I didn't want to lose you, Kev. To hurt you again...but I wasn't ready to let them go...”

There was a knock at the window. Sami nearly jumped out of his skin. “Kev, I'm sorry,” He said as he went to turn to the window. “I know you want me to–”

“Hey, Sami,” Roman said, his expression intense but unreadable. “Got a minute?”

Sami opened the door, practically spilling out the car. He got back to his feet. “Sure.”

Roman glanced at the discarded Bloodline shirt on the ground. “Kevin took the news well?”

“Of course he didn't...” Sami said, picking up the shirt. “You came back quick...”

“I was gone for over an hour,” Roman said, raising an eyebrow as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“For you, that's quick...” Sami awkwardly joked. He noticed a mark near the base of Roman's neck. Almost like...a bite? Roman seemed to notice he noticed and shifted his hair to that side to cover it. Sami tried to remember if Roman had had his hair up or down this morning...

“You wanna know where I've been, don't you, Sami?” Roman asked with a sigh.

“A little. You kinda stormed out on everyone...I'm sorry about what I said at the meeting, I just–”

Roman held his hand up. “Don’t. I needed to hear it,” he said. “And I was with an old flame, actually. To talk.”

Looks like you did way more than “talk”... Sami thought as Roman carefully sat on the hood of the car. He sat beside him. “Did you get back together?”

“No. The man I wanted him to still be is dead. After we...caught up, we had a talk, and he made that very clear.” Roman said. “I should've known we wouldn't...”

“Oh,” Sami said. “Roman, I'm so sorry...”

“It's alright. I think seeing him was good for me. Like, closure, I guess? And he gave me a lot to think about,” he said, glancing at the sky. “Sami, I’ve got three questions for you.”

“Go ahead,” Sami said, leaning back.

“You love Kevin, right? Enough to say it?”

He titled his head at the last sentence. “Of course I do!”

“And he loves you?”

“Roman, it’s why I decided to leave in the first place.” Sami said. “And I don't think he'd be this pissed if he didn't love me.”

Sami could've sworn he saw Roman smile wistfully. “And you love the family?”

“Yes! If I didn't, I wouldn't have come back! Why are you asking me all this?”

Roman didn't answer. He just nodded. “Because, unfortunately, you can't quit The Bloodline...”

Sami sat up, a mixture of grief and fury starting to stir in his heart. “Roman, what the h–”

“... because as of today, The Bloodline is dissolved.”

It took a minute for Sami to process. He then smacked Roman's chest, his hand stinging from the impact. “Stop doing that, you jerk!” He chastised as he shook out his poor hand.

Roman laughed. “Sorry! But you should've seen your face! It was adorable!”

Sami sulked for a moment. Then he looked over at Roman. “But why?”

“I realized I’ve been living in the past too much, and I might be dragging you all down because of it. I don't want you guys to feel like you'll rot and grow to resent staying in The Bloodline because of me...”

Sami caught what Roman said under his breath: “Like Mox said he would've if he'd stayed...”

Oh... Sami thought, a little bewildered he’d go to Mox, given the prodigal Shield member's current mental state. No wonder you said he was dead...

There was a pregnant pause. Then Roman took a deep breath.

“Look, I know I don't really say it, or that I'm very good at showing it, but I love you guys. You, Jey, Jimmy, The Wiseman...hell, even Solo...”

“And The Tongans and Jacob?” Sami asked.

“Jury's still out,” Roman joked. “I'm sorry, for how I've treated all of you over the years. I want to try and make it right. Be better. And if that means I have to let you all go and do your thing...then I'll do it.” Roman put his hand on his shoulder.

Sami felt a rush of joy. Without a second thought, he knocked the hand away and went in for a hug.

To his pleasant surprise, Roman hugged back. And it was different from the hugs he'd come to expect from The Tribal Chief. There was no sense of a wall between them. No distance. No subtle hint of manipulation. No underlying fear he'd suddenly attack, like petting a lion. This was warm. Firm. Affectionate.

“Seriously. I love you, Sami...”

“Love you, too. But careful throwing that around. Kevin might get jealous...” Sami joked.

Roman broke the hug. “If he hurts you after all this, I'll kick his ass.”

“Appreciate it, but I need work things out with Kevin on my own.” Sami said.

Roman shrugged. “Alright. Guess I gotta track down Jey and Jimmy to let ‘em know about The Bloodline, too.”

Sami checked his phone. “Rhea texted me that she's at Waffle House with Jey...”

She says he's in a better headspace, too...

“...And last I heard from Jimmy, he was looking for Heyman at the arena.”

“Damn. I need to talk to The Wiseman, too...” Roman said. “Well, I'm gonna go find him and Jimmy then, first. Good luck with Kevin, Sami. And everything.”

“Thanks, Roman. Oh, and one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Just because we're not a team anymore, doesn't mean we're not family. If you ever need anything...”

“Of course,” Roman said, genuinely smiling. “Same to you, Sami.”

Sami smiled as Roman walked away, leaning back on the hood of Kevin's car, the cold air against his bare chest not even registering with him.

“You're still here?”

Sami sat up, dropping the shirt as he glanced over to see Kevin. He didn't seem pissed, but he didn't seem happy, either.

“Sorry! I lost track of time! Plus, you took the keys, so I didn't want to just leave your car unlocked and unattended... I-I can leave now, if–”

Kevin chuckled. “You know you could probably just lock the door before you close it, right?”

“...Oh yeah...”

Kevin shook his head, a small smirk on his face. “You’re ridiculous...”

“So, do you still want me to go, or...?”

“No,” Kevin said, glancing down at the discarded Bloodline shirt. He looked at Sami again, in a way Sami could've sworn was soft. “Stay. I want to talk to you...”

That...gave Sami hope. Sami patted the hood of the car beside him. Kevin shook his head. “Too cold. We can talk in the car.”

“You sure?”

“Sami, you're either freezing or happy to see me right now,” Kevin said, nodding to Sami’s chest. He removed his gaudy hoodie and threw it over Sami's shoulders. “Let's talk in the car.”

Sami blushed, covering his chest before putting on the (surprisingly warm) hoodie. Can't it be both? he thought as they returned to the car. Kevin turned the car on to warm it up to a toasty 68. Sami took a deep breath. “Do you wanna go first?”

Kevin nodded. “Sami, I hate that you lied to me,” he said bluntly. “I didn't give a damn about the information. I just liked that I thought you picked me first. That you were on my side. I just wanted you, Sami!”

Sami hung his head. “I just wanted you, too, Kev. I wanted to make you feel good. I know back when I thought the world was against me, all I wanted was someone by my side. You by my side. So I thought if I could give that to you, maybe I could fix everything. That this time I wouldn't have to choose...or break your heart. But I screwed up.”

“You did.” Kevin said. Then he was quiet for a moment. “I wasn't there for you back then, huh?”

“I know you tried to help, in your own way...”

“Kinda like you did, now?”

Sami chuckled bitterly. “I guess. And hey, apparently Roman's finally trying to be a better person. He ended The Bloodline. So maybe it was somewhat worth it. Now there's nothing to pull me away from you.”

“Really? Do you think I'm gonna take you back that easily? You broke my heart again, Sami. The Bloodline being gone and Roman finally giving not being a dick a shot is nice, but doesn't fix everything. You know that!”

“That’s true. And that's why I'm gonna do whatever it takes for you to love me again, or at least make things right by you. I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care if Cody might drop me as a friend. Hell, I don't care if the only way to make it up to you is to eat a Package Piledriver as many times as it takes!”

Kevin winced. “I wouldn't go that far...”

“I just want to see you look at me fondly again. To talk about what stupid nonsense our coworkers are putting us through. To commiserate when we lose and celebrate when we win. To kiss you anywhere and anytime. To wake up knowing my husband is the first thing I'll see and I'll be–”

“Wait. ‘Husband’, Sami?” Kevin said, awed.

Sami's face burned. He didn't know how that slipped out. “One day, yeah...”

Kevin turned a lovely shade of pink. “I mean, it might be a bit soon. We just had a fight, Sami...”

“Oh.” He said.

“But I think we can start again,” he said, stroking a strand of hair from Sami's face. “In the hotel room I booked for the weekend. For me and my boyfriend. You can start “making it up to me” there...” He said with a wink and a tongue click.

Sami felt a weight shift from his shoulders. “Kev!”

Kevin kissed him. Sami kissed back. As they continued, neither knew how or when Sami managed to climb across the center console and end up in Kevin's lap in the process. Not that they really cared that much.

“Kevin?” Sami asked with a happy sigh.

“You want to start making it up to me here in the car first, instead? Then the hotel?” Kevin asked.

“I know I'm in no place to make demands, but...please~”

Kevin smirked, reaching down and reclining the front seat as far as it could go, either to go for it there or make the backseat easier to reach. He gripped Sami's hips. “God, you make it hard to stay mad at you.”

Sami smirked as he peeled off Kevin's shirt. The jacket Kevin had lent him hung off one of his shoulders. “Why do you think we keep getting back together?”

Kevin gently slid the other side off, letting it collapse off of Sami. “Because I'm good at seducing you to get what I want...” He teased.

Sami chuckled. “Yeah, well, it helps that you're cute,” he teased back before sending his lips crashing back into him, eager to properly kick off this fresh start.

And for the first time in weeks, Sami felt no guilt.

#wwe #sami zayn #kevin owens #roman reigns #zowens #becky lynch #the oracle writes #the bloodline doesn't know

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