#here he’s wondering for the first time what is after death

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[gravestrain]

gave you too much but it wasn't enough (qh43)

In which you wonder if your relationship with Quinn might end in death by a thousand cuts.

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! I am thrilled to be a part of this event. I received DBATC, and if you know me you know any kind of angst is not my wheelhouse, but I was thrilled to get this challenge and try to create something angsty. It will never be unresolved in my world but hopefully this does the trick :) 2.5k words, fem reader, no warnings that I know of, not proofread.

When Quinn was named the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, you had never felt so proud.

Being with Quinn for two plus years at the time, you were over the moon to see the love of your life, your favorite person in the world, being given such an honor, an honor he worked so hard for, an honor you know he deserved. Quinn was one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. With that dedication of course, comes time. Quinn dedicated countless hours to improving his game, practicing with his teammates, working out in the gym, going on runs, anything he could do to be the best he could be, he was doing it.

Under the moonlight, as you and Quinn celebrated his accomplishment, he promised you that he wouldn't stray away. That his commitment to the team wouldn't outweigh his commitment to you. To being a loving partner. A companion. However, when you woke up, stretching your arm out to feel an empty bed yet again, despite knowing that it couldn't have been much past 7 am, you wondered what went wrong. What happened to cause those promises to crumble. His words to be empty, lifeless. Void of meaning. When did you and Quinn become a couple that told each other lies? Told each other things just because the other person wanted to hear them, not because they genuinely intended to fulfill them.

It was the start of Quinn's second season as the Canucks captain. At first, you thought it was too good to be true. Quinn was thriving in his new role, yet still being the perfect partner. Attentive and on time, compassionate and loving. Now, that version of Quinn is a distant memory, mocking you as you think of him.

It started after the holidays in Quinn's first season of being captain. You chalked it up to post holiday stress and all star weekend buzz, maybe even trade deadline drama. Then the all star game passed, and even the trade deadline. Shortly after you started blaming it on the playoff push, then the playoff loss. And now here you were in November, searching for answers, trying to figure out what happened to the love of your life who turned into a stranger right in front of your own eyes, with nothing you could do about it but watch it happen.

You got yourself ready for work, looking around in the bathroom, on the bedside table, and eventually the kitchen to see if maybe Quinn left you a note, a cup of coffee in your favorite travel mug, a bagel from your favorite bakery around the corner, a sign of his love, signs that he used to never leave the house without showing. Just as you thought, there was nothing. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt Quinn kiss your forehead before he left for God knows what. Another workout, another two mile run after the three miles he did on the treadmill, or locking himself in his office watching film.

Work came and went that day, taking the long way home, dreading going home to an empty house. You thought it would be worse trying to interact with the stranger you lived with, but the silence, the emptiness, the sterile, unwelcoming cold was always worse. You stared up at the traffic lights, wondering if others saw just how foolish you felt. Writing lines to a story that was long over. Grasping on to the book, hoping for a surprise ending, one that would make everything worth it.

To say you were surprised to see Quinn's Porsche in the driveway was an understatement. Usually on practice days he didn't get home until well after 6 pm. You unlocked the front door, not expecting much. Just because he was home, doesn't mean he wasn't locked up in his office, taking notes from last night's game. A game that you never bothered to go to anymore. You knew the other WAGs missed you, people speculated about your absence on the internet, always cruel and judgmental. You couldn't bring yourself to go. You had learned to despise hockey for taking Quinn from you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Quinn in the kitchen, grabbing a snack. Quinn looked as surprised to see you as you were, almost like he didn't know where you were, or if he even remembered that you lived there. Quiet "hi's" were exchanged, Quinn leaving a soft kiss on your cheek then awkwardly brushing past you to go towards the fridge.

"I thought we could have chicken and pasta for dinner tonight. It sounded good on my way home, I hope that's okay," Quinn muttered out, but already getting a pot of water for pasta ready, as though it didn't matter what you truly wanted. "That's okay," you offered back. "I'm gonna go sit down and read my book. If you need me, just holler." You offered and Quinn gave a nod in response. You wanted to grunt and groan under your breath. How could this be okay with him? It was as though you didn't know him, despite him knowing everything about you.

You tried to distract yourself with your book, but frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away aggressively, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. He couldn't muster up simple greetings, and an I love you would be almost toxic coming out of his mouth. He didn't care anymore, that much was obvious. So why should you?

You didn't know how long time passed, but it was enough time for Quinn to come over with a plate of dinner, unaware of your state. Your heart swelled. Most days, you had been eating dinner at the table, the memories of the two of you loved up on the couch, enjoying your meal and watching your latest binge watch were long gone. It seemed that Quinn was looking for one of those nights, until he saw your tears. His face dropped, setting your plate down and kneeling in front of you.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to get you to meet his eyes. You shook your head. How could he be so oblivious? "Are you serious?" You ask and Quinn's expression changed, like you had hurt him. "What do you mean by that? Why would I not be serious?" he asked, causing you to shake your head. "Quinn, things haven't been right between us for months. You leave me everyday without saying goodbye or even kissing me goodbye, you act like spending time with me is the worst thing in the world. I never go to games anymore because I resent hockey for taking you from me. When you were named captain, I was so proud of you I could explode. Now I can't even bare to be in the hockey setting because it reminds me of everything you chose over me. Quinn, I don't even know if you love me anymore." You took a breath after getting it off your chest, but at the same time a wounded gasp came out of Quinn's mouth, like he was a wounded animal.

"You think I don't love you anymore? How could you think that?" he asked, clearly hurt by what you had said. "What else do you want me to believe, Quinn? I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. And beyond that, that you ever even showed that you might. I feel like I live with a stranger. You can't honestly tell me that you have felt satisfied in this relationship. That you feel that we love each other to the fullest, that we love spending time together. I haven't felt confident that you feel that way in a long time." At this point you both had tears in your eyes, Quinn feeling devastated by what he was hearing.

Of course Quinn wasn't 100% satisfied with your relationship. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that everything was perfect. He knew that hockey had been his number one priority lately, and he had been trying to make that not be the case.

"Baby, I know I haven't been putting you first lately, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But I feel like it's only been this way since the start of the regular season." This had you scoffing immediately. "You don't seriously believe that. Quinn, I could say I have felt this way on and off since January." This caused another hurt gasp to leave Quinn's lips. "Why didn't you say something..." he trailed off, hurt, but he knew the answer.

"I shouldn't have to beg you to love me, Quinn. I shouldn't have to tell you that you have been neglecting me, neglecting us. If you truly can't see what's been going on, I don't know how I can explain it to you. If you think that this relationship has been satisfactory for both parties, I can't change your mind of that. But I won't be treated like this any longer. I think we should spend some time apart." Quinn backed up as soon as the suggestion came out of your mouth, looking like he had been shot.

"You don't mean that, you can't" he gasped. "Quinn, I'm not saying I want to breakup. If I didn't believe this was salvageable, if I didn't believe you could fix this, I would just say I wanted to break up. I believe we can fix this, but I think some time apart would do us good. For us both to figure out what we're looking for and what we truly want. If we find that this is still what we want, that's great, I believe that we will make it work. But this, this... arrangement, this isn't working. I know you seem shocked and hurt, but I know you don't believe that this is working for both of us, or honestly either of us."

"I'll go stay with Petey, I don't want to be in your way," Quinn suggested and you shook your head. "It's okay, really. I can go stay with Brock's girlfriend. Since she lives by herself it won't be awkward for any of us. I do believe we can make this work Quinn, I just don't think we can do it in these conditions." You put your hand on his cheek and his face softened, leaning into your touch.

"Tell me how to fix it, please, I'll do anything," he begged, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I can't tell you that, Quinn. I want you to figure out. To understand where I'm coming from, and want to work to fix it. I haven't been perfect either Quinn, we can both work on this. I shouldn't have to tell you that spending time together once a month isn't enough. I don't know how it can be enough for you, either. If that's okay with you, then this just isn't going to work."

"I'll fix it baby, I promise, I'll do anything." he whispered, almost defeatedly but feeling much better. "I believe you, baby. I do."

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

The flowers started on Mondays. Each Monday, a different bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers arrived at your office. The message was also different each week but it always ended the same way: " I love you, I believe in us." You texted Quinn every week when the flowers came to let him know you got them and to send your thanks. After four weeks of flowers, you were sitting in the front room of Brock's girlfriend, Bella's, apartment, getting stuff done on your computer on a chilly Saturday afternoon. A knock on the door sounded, causing you to pause your work. You had been staying with Bella long enough that you felt comfortable getting the door. Not to mention Bella liked to sleep in super late on weekends, meaning you would be the only one to even be available to open the door.

Your heart sank to your toes as you looked through the peephole, seeing Quinn. He looked different. If your gut was right, he looked tired, a far away look in his eyes, almost as though he missed you as much as you missed him. You didn't want to believe it, wary of getting your heart broken. He was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it as he waited for the door to open.

"Y/N, hi," Quinn whispered out, taking a step towards you. "Hi Quinn, it's great to see you. How have you been? Would you like to come inside?" You asked, causing him to shake his head. "I can't stay, but thank you for offering," he stopped himself, wanting to keep boundaries in between you two in order for you to be most comfortable.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, and I wanted to come ask you something. I was hoping you'd like to come to the game tomorrow night? I was hoping this would be enough time, but if not it's okay." His voice was shaky, unsure, almost like he was scared of your response. "I'm not sure, Quinn. Won't it be weird that I'm there? I don't want to cause any drama." You said apprehensively. You were also nervous of what that step in your relationship would be.

"There would be no drama at all, babe. You could just sit with Bell in the stands if you would prefer that, but I know the WAGs have really been missing you. I heard Millsy's daughters have been waiting for you to paint their nails on intermission again," he joked, causing you to smile. His heart melted at the smile on your face, finally feeling fulfilled, that he made you happy.

"I'll be there, Quinn. You can put me in the box. Don't worry about parking, though. I'm sure I can catch a ride with Bella." You both smiled, joyful at the step in the right direction for the both of you. "I can't wait."

________________

For all the time you had spent at Canucks games, you never thought you would be so nervous about what to wear, but here you are. Finally, settling on a stylish Canucks long sleeve with no distinction of Quinn on the shirt, paired with dark jeans and sneakers.

Quinn played a great game, getting a goal and an assist, the Canucks winning 3-1. You were ecstatic. Being back at the games, with your friends, cheering on Quinn, just felt right. It felt like where you were supposed to be. When you met Quinn after the game, he couldn't help himself either, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground. "Quinn!" you exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You did so good!" You laughed as he set you back on the ground. "It's because you were here, my good luck charm." He mused, causing you to blush.

Before he could stop himself, Quinn asked: "come home with me?" Your breath shortened, definitely not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?" You asked him, heart racing at the idea of going home with Quinn, truly where you belonged. "I would want nothing more."

It felt at times that no matter how much you gave to Quinn, it would never be enough. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves, you both knew that all you could give would always be enough for the both of you.

[jk-kiwi]

The 90’s case

The 90’s case (18+)

Characters -  assistant detective JK x detective Y/N reader (Woman)

Summary - Another case in your pocket, but this time, solving it could grant you everything you’ve ever wanted.

Genre - Crime investigation, suggestive/smut, maybe slight angst, the action takes place in the 90's, THIS is fiction!

Warnings - a dead body, cheating!, the reader is married to Namjoon, they investigate a crime, fictional characters, mentions of diabetes, autopsy and overdose, some swear words.

Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - I’ll try to detail, so… kissing, mentions of arousal, mentions of female and male body parts, unprotected (please be safe!), he cums inside…(PLEASE BE SAFE!), he’s a little possessive, I think, a little rough, hitting your sweet spots and all, not much detailing. 

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - This is a story I wrote in 2020. I refined it and reposted it here with some extra spicy stuff. Y/L/N is your last name. Enjoy!

Word count - 4.1k

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

“What do you think about this, Miss Y/L/N” one of the cops asks, while dozens search for clues in the house. A normal death as supposed by the covers. “Interesting indeed.” you say, looking through the magnifying glass, taking in every detail.

“How long do you think it's been like this?” he asks with disgust, looking at the poor man. He was dead. “Oh, I assure you Mr. Choi hasn't been dead for more than 5 hours.” you say confidently.

“Do you think it was a heart attack?” you humm curiously, staring at the lifeless body that sits in the bathtub.

“Ask for some tissue samples, I’ll definitely come with a response after I get the autopsy reports.” you yawn tiredly, all the work you have been doing recently piling up on your body. 

Since when did crimes became so popular?

“Let’s do a good job, just as always.” he says, taking off his glove to shake your hand, before exiting the bathroom.

“And, any news from the expert?” says the man waiting for you outside, his body resting on the wall. “Let's not rush to conclusions, Jungkook. For now we know very little about the victim.” you smile at him, patting his arm in order to follow you down the stairs.

The place was packed with police since this morning, when the Choi family found out about the tragic incident. “What do we know about the victim until now?” Jungkook asks, opening the door of his Trabant 600, letting you hop on the right seat before taking off, him driving. 

“Name:Dong-He Choi, age: 57, medical report shows that the only problem he had was diabetes?” you question, the report, poor in details. “Too much insulin?” He interupts. “Don't interrupt me, Jungkook.” 

“Although I don't think he took too much insulin, his family said he took great care of his health.”

The man keeps silent, letting you cross over the details listed. “Family of 5 members, wife and 3 children along with him. It says here that his mother also lives there, the place estimated to cost around…10 million dollars?!” 

Jungkook whistles in disbelief. “Wow, no wonder they live in that huge mansion.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just their main house, it says here that they also have a vacation home in Manhattan, two in Japan and a condo in China.” you exclaim.

“It smells more like murder to me, he was packed, filthy rich!” You sigh, already knowing this was going to be a huge pain that you will have to deal with. You were the main detective after all.

“I don’t know what to say, he had no signs of abuse or struggle other than the injury on his head, probably from falling face first into the tub.” all the details crossing your mind, trying to picture what happened.

“I didn’t find anything unusual at the crime scene.” you throw the pieces of paper in the backseat closing your eyes in annoyance, why now out of all times. Why would your life get so busy the moment you were close to your lowest?

“Did you speak with the family, maybe they gave some relevant info.” the man glimpse slightly over your tired figure before answering. 

“Mother was in shock. Oldest son with his girlfriend, allegedly on a date, his daughters went to bed at 9, didn’t hear anything unusual during the night, same story with the grandma.” you hum, useless information once again.

“How about the wife, what’s her alibi?” 

“She found him in the morning, they were sleeping in separate rooms recently, apparently their married life was not as sweet as it appeared.” you turn your head to look outside the window, the situation seemingly familiar leaving a feeling of bitterness crawl down your throat.

“We’re almost at your house. Looks like your hubby is here too.” Jungkook notices, his car parked in your driveway. “What’s he doing here at this hour, he should’ve been at work.” you mumble making Jungkook shrug.

“How long are you going to keep doing this?” he questions, you remain silent for a moment before looking eyes with the boy. “My personal life is not your business.” you reply coldly. “I would say otherwise…hey!” he tries to argue, but you get out of the car waving at him, loving how annoyed he’s gotten.

Your steps take you closer, taking in a deep breath and preparing your forced smile before entering the house. “Hey sweetie!” his melodious voice greets you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

The man comes closer to you, his lips leaving a small peck on your forehead. “Back already? Didn’t you have a new case?” he questions with a raised brow. “I could ask the same thing, shouldn’t you be in the office?” you reply, taking off your jacket, placing it on the rack.

Namjoon looks at you a little stunned before composing himself, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I forgot something important, I was about to go back anyway.” he takes his paperwork, key and jacket before throwing you a last glance, exiting the house.

You sigh, the smell of strong woman perfume lingering around. Her perfume.Your husband has been cheating on you for a while with his secretary, a woman 10 years younger than him, you already knew. He kept excusing himself with “business meetings” out of town and all the late night working under the pretext of “I just had so much paperwork to do.” his actions were obvious.

You were a detective after all, it was your job to be observant, years of practice bringing you to the point you were seeing through people like through crystal clear glass. Plus, he was “your” man, you knew him better after all these years you’ve been together.

And even if you didn’t want to believe it at first, the traces of red lipstick, one that you never wore, were far more evidence than needed.

You were stuck, you knew he was cheating but you also couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. You were to people with important jobs and bigger concerns than love, too different from the beginning but way to blind to see. In any case, the divorce would only bring more trouble into your busy lives.

You didn’t even feel that hurt about his actions, the love between you not existing anymore. That’s why you kept going like this, letting him meet her knowing they were far more suitable for each other. 

It’s not like you were better anyways. You felt devastated when you found out, although it was expected, the only person bringing you comfort in that situation being none other than your assistant, Jungkook.

He already knew you well enough, and you’ve told him all kinds of stories along the years you’ve worked together. It was easier to forget what was happening when he was holding you close in his embrace.

The first time you gave in and stepped wrong, cheating on your husband with him, felt wrong, guilty even. But the man knew how to bring you back to him, to his bed, way too good. 

Maybe it was the shared passion for crimes and mysteries, or the fact that he always listened to your worries, ending up caring for you better than your own husband.

You lay on your bed, the curtains closed. You try to get some sleep, but the case keeps you awake. It felt weird, not like sudden death, but murder.

You could not focus on anything when a case was feeling like this, so you get your phone, ready to dial his number, in a sudden being interrupted by the heavy knock on your front door.

Rushing downstairs, you think it’s Namjoon again, coming to get some other stuff he’s forgotten about, but to your surprise it’s Jungkook.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask surprised, seeing him scratch the back of his neck shyly. “I thought we could work some more on the case.” did he even leave in the first place? That was the question you couldn’t bring to ask.

You smile, raising a brow, making way for the man to get inside, his grin brighter than ever. “I think we both know we're not gonna end up talking about the case.” you tease, making him look at you with lustful eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks, stepping closer, your fingers caressing his chest. “You and me, alone. My husband…at work.” you whisper seductively.

“And what’s so wrong with that? He’s a jerk anyways.” he says, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You play this game further, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. 

“That’s what I was thinking too, and it’s not like you can keep your hands away from me for a second either. Let's not forget I'm a married woman, Jungkook.” your eyes scan him, he’s already way to worked up, you take it above one more step wrapping his arms around his neck.

“You husband is busy, but I’m not. I can take better care than him.” he says, his lips leaving slow, lingering kisses around your neck. “I think the case can wait, I have other important business I need to take care of.”

Jungkook lifts you up making your feet wrap around his torso, his lips never leaving your neck. And you know that once again you commit the same crime, letting this man in your house, in your bed, but the worst…in your heart.

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

Wrapped in a blanket, both trying to catch your breath after solving the “case” found in Jungkook’s pants.

He takes a big gulp of air, leaning back on your pillows, arms spread, his face showing pure bliss.

“Wow, this was breathtaking.” he says while watching you. “It’s not my fault you’re getting old.” you respond, leaning to get the files scattered on the floor, finally working on something that’s important.

“You still have work on your mind after all of this?” 

“Yes” you respond, getting out of the bed “I think we should work on it, isn’t this why you came?” you pick up his shirt, dressing yourself in it.

“Hey, that’s mine! What am I supposed to wear?” he asks in an upset tone, but with a shit-eating grin on his face making you roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to wear anything, I like it better anyways.” you wink before leaving the room, hearing the boy whine.

“This woman is gonna kill me one day…” he thinks before gathering his belongings, following you to the kitchen.

You were focused, munching on a biscuit, your eyes scanning the report papers up and down.

“Something’s not right here.” Jungkook suits himself too, grabbing a cup of water before chugging it down in one go.

“Why do you think that?” he asks, looking over your focused figure. You throw his shirt off going back to your room to properly dress up before tossing him the car keys. “We need to go back to the Choi mansion, I have a bad feeling.”

Jungkook complies, knowing your judgement is never wrong, taking no time in dressing up and in just mere seconds you were in the trabant, rushing to the Choi mansion.

Soon you arrive, the big gates opening like already expecting you. Getting out of the car you knock on the door, the air feeling eerie around.

“Oh, detective Y/L/N?” the woman who opened the door, Miss Choi, asks surprised. “We’re sorry to interrupt so soon, but is it okay if we look through your husband’s belongings? It’s important to the case.” Jungkook says in a sensitive tone.

She nods, tears gathering in her eyes at the mention of her dead husband. You two enter with her following behind, leading you to the lounge. “There’s not much left, the police already took most for the investigation, but you can have a look around if you want to.”

She takes you to her husband’s room, leaving right after to get some drinks and snacks.

“They were not joking when he said the cops took everything.” your remark while looking under a desk.

“What are these?” your assistant asks while pulling something from under a shelf. “Just some old magazines, where did you get them?” he points to the place making you go and inspect.

“Let’s move this.” you both get your hands on the shelf dragging it away, a mountain of old newspaper and wrappers falling from behind it.

“Chocolate?” you say after picking up one from the floor. “Wow, that’s a lot of candy for a diabetic.” you shoot him a look gathering more from the floor.

“They are not even expired, they must have been consumed recently.” you stuck some in your purse before moving everything back to place. You look around for some more information before something in the distance catches your eye.

“Jungkook, look at this.” you motion to the backyard, approaching the window for a better look. “It’s smoke.” he says, sitting next to you. “Yeah, definitely someone started it not long ago, I’m going to investigate.” 

You rush out of the room with the boy following your steps. “Y/N, this is dangerous, I’m coming with you!” he says while catching your arm, concern plastered all over his face.

“You stay here, we can’t bring too much attention. If they ask, I'm in the spare bathroom.” you say before sneaking out the house, your phone ringing in your purse.

“Y/L/N on the phone.” it’s the policeman on the other line, the guy you talked with this morning. “The autopsy results are in. He had an insulin overdose, felt sick and then hit his head on the bathtub.” 

“Yeah, great, I’m a little busy so I’ll call you later.” he doesn’t get to say another word, you end the call, getting closer to the smoke source.

“What even? That’s weird.” in front of you, laying in dim fire, a bunch of papers and documents. You put it out the best you can trying to save what’s left before your foot stomps onto something hard.

A watch.

You pick it up, scanning it before a chill of realisation hits you, making you rush back inside knowing you left Jungkook there all alone.

“Hi, this is Y/N Y/L/N on the phone. Get the guys and come to the mansion, Choi was murdered.” you manage to say to the police officer before barging in, surprising Miss Choi and Jungkook in the process.

“Don’t drink that!” You rush towards the man hitting the cup from his hands, making it hit the ground breaking in thousands of shards.

“Y/N what the hell! You spilled all the tea on me! What's wrong with you?” but you’re too focused on his well being, cupping his face in your palms, forcing him to look into your eyes, heart racing in fear.

“Tell me you didn’t drink it.” you ask with worry “No, you just threw it out of my hand!” you sigh in relief, composing yourself in order to confront Miss Choi.

“Miss Choi, where was your son the night your husband died?” you harshly question. “With his girlfriend? Why are you acting so strange?” she looks taken aback.

“Because he killed his father, along with you. Am I mistaken?” you look at her, dead in the eyes, her posture stiff. “That’s nonsense!” she raises from her chair in disbelief.

“You know what, that’s it! This conversation is over, please get out of my house!” She comes closer to push you out, but Jungkook is quick to act, shielding you.

You hear the police sirens ring, the doors of the mansion opening in a rush. “I hope you have a great explanation for this, detective.” the police officer says while pointing his gun at Miss Choi.

“I found this in your backyard, Miss Choi.” you start, pulling the burned pieces from your bag. “The true medical records of your husband and some other interesting details. You must have loved him…or should I say his money?” you browse through the burnt papers, pointing once you find the important section.

“Aha, there it is! If the two of you were to divorce you would not get any fortune? This must be your prenup. But! If it was for your husband to pass away as a natural cause…you would inherit everything. Does this sound familiar?” you look at the woman, her face showing pure horror.

“Oh, what is this? Divorce papers, all signed up just for you, but I guess your signature is not on them.” the woman gets pale as a ghost, her hands trembling. 

“T-this, this is not true! Are you trying to frame me?!” she stutters while trying to keep herself composed.

“Not at all, they have sigils, stamps and original signatures, easy to check for fakes. But I suppose you need to wait a little longer, we’re just getting to the highlight of the story. The medical reports.” You throw the pieces of paper on the coffee table, keeping only the most important one.

“Mister Choi has never had diabetes.” you say with a smile on your face. “He just wanted to divorce you, and you couldn’t accept it.” the woman starts to pant for air, her hands gripping her chest.

“Miss Choi, is this true?” the policeman asks. “I didn’t want to come to this! He, he was divorcing me! I was about to lose everything!” she shouts in despair, uncovering her sick actions.

The police man gets his cuffs, putting them around her wrists.

“Miss Choi, you are under arrest for the death of Mister Choi, everything you say is and will be used against you.” she starts crying, sobbing while shouting that she didn’t want to do all this.

You throw the watch to one of the police assistants. “Get his son as well, his watch was near the pile of burnt paper.” you say staring at the scene unfolding in front of you, some realization hitting you as well.

You sigh relieved, happy that you managed to successfully solve yet another case. Jungkook drives you home, the peace around you a little too peaceful.

“Why did you hit my hand?” he asks, breaking the silence. “I was afraid she was going to put something in your tea.” you admit hearing him hum before stopping in front of your house. The atmosphere around you is quiet, the dusk setting in.

“Your husband got home.” he mentions. “Yeah, he has.” you sadly acknowledge.

You say goodbye and enter the house, your husband in the kitchen. “I heard you solved the case! Congratulations!” Namjoon says, coming closer to you, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Yes, I did.” you take the glass, swirling it around before placing it on the counter.

“Namjoon, we need to talk.” you say while looking into his eyes, it was time.

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

Your heart was pounding in your chest sitting in front of the door, wondering if you should knock or not. “Come on Y/N, you can do it.” you say before knocking once, your heart exploding while hearing his voice on the other side.

“Coming!” You fix your hair and put up a big smile when Jungkook opens the door, dressed only in a pair of gray sweatpants, his skin smelling like fresh soap from a mile away.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, confused. “I figured we could work on some cases, mind if I come in?” you rush to say, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sure, but…is everything okay?” he asks while letting you inside, putting a black t-shirt on.

“Do you love me?”

“What question is that?” his cheeks get brighter at your sudden boldness.

“I just want you to be honest with me, do you love me or not?” you ask again, looking at his rigid form.

“Well…I want to say yes.”

“Then say yes.”

“You are married, Y/N.” he finally lets out, a pang tugging at his heart knowing he souldn't feel the way he’s feeling.

“Not anymore.” you whisper, showing your ringless finger. “I’m divorcing.”

“What.” he lets out in disbelief.

“Mister Choi’s case made me realize something, you can’t stay with a person for what he has or what he can give you. I want someone that loves me and knows how to cherish me.” you shyly say before locking eyes with the man in front of you.

“Then yes, I love you. So, so much. I’ve loved you for the past years, ever since I got assigned to be your assistant.” he comes closer to you, sticking his chest to yours, but not touching further.

“You drive me crazy in so many ways, you’re smart and can unravel even the most tangled cases. You’re to die for pretty and so sexy when you look at me with those eyes of yours, it makes me jealous to know I couldn’t find you first.” he finally touches you, his fingers gently cupping your waist.

“I’m so mad when I think of that stupid ex husband of yours managing to have you all for himself just to cheat and leave you weak and exposed. Or when I think of way too many ways to make you look at me, to let me claim you.” his face comes closer to yours, many emotions erupting between the both of you.

“Or when I get that sweet taste of your lips, and I rip those moans out, making me so fucking proud to please you, even if it’s wrong.” he kisses you, slow and tangy, but not for long, letting you desire for more.

“I love you. I’m greedy and I want you all for myself.” your eyes get teary, a feeling of comfort, safeness getting into you. You felt at home.

Wrapping your arms around the man you bring him close enough to whisper onto his lips. “Then have me for yourself.” you say, enough words for Jungkook to comply. Shoving your clothes off in no go, leaving you exposed only for his eyes to see, passion burning around the apartment.

His hands lead you to his bedroom, shoving you in his bed, not breaking the hot kiss he’s gotten you trapped in. 

He pulls the t-shirt over his head, his pants following right after. You look with so much love and lust at him, your hands bringing him closer by the band of his boxers, making him whine.

“Pull them off, baby.” his tone, seductive, encouraging you to touch him further. You do it, taking off his boxers, letting his cock spring free in front of you.

“Y/N, if you keep looking at me with those eyes of yours, I’ll cum right now.” he admits, slightly embarrassed, face flustered, aching member leaking with arousal.

“Should we get to the good part then?” you question, biting your lip.

“All of this is the good part…” 

You lay down, not breaking eye contact, letting him climb on top. His hands rest on your thighs spreading them nice and wide. “You’re drippin’ baby.” his eyes never leave your sloppy count.

“Just do something, Kook, I’m dying here.” he chuckles before gripping his cock, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your entrance.

“From today, only I get to see and touch this.” he possessively says, licking his lips before pushing his tip inside of you, making you moan.

“You’re so hot and tight.” he whimpers, bowing his head at the sensitivity. “Please move.” you mewl, waiting for him to start pounding you the way you deserve.

He starts off slow, wanting the moment to last, but in a couple of minutes his peace gets faster and faster, making you see stars in the process.

You whine and cry underneath him, feeling so full and so good, his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you, letting you know you made the right choice to leave your husband for him.

He was pulling your strings so well, grunting every now and then when he touched that sweet spot of yours making you squirm or when you moaned too loud, knowing he'd hit your cervix just a little too deep.

“Jungkook! I’m close!” you shout, the ceiling above you turning from black to white. He keeps his rough pace, hitting deeper and deeper if possible. 

“I’m close too, baby.” he whispers before giving one last thrust, spilling his hot seed inside of you, claiming you as his.

You reach your high as well, fingers clawing at his back, trying to bring him in for some closure, both of your arousal slipping your fluttering core. He rests his head on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, kissing your neck every now and then.

You raise his head, swearing you could see an entire galaxy into his eyes. He was yours now, and you were his, both of you ready to throw everything aside for each other.

You smile lovely at him, knowing he will forever be your happy place, your passion, your crime.

[celaenaeiln]

are you still doing the post where you explain the ranking?? don’t mean to be impatient i was just wondering! (take your time) <3

@imperatrice21

Hey y'all! You asked and I deliver ;)

Alrighty let's get to it!!

So in THIS POST which is being referred to, I had created a ranking of Bruce's favorites in order from most to least.

And this was the ranking:

Dick

Damian

Cass

Jason/Tim (tie)

Tim/Jason (tie)

Steph

Now lets get into why.

Dick

I don't want to rehash why Dick is the favorite because I went into a lengthy explanation in the referred post as to why. It's not even close, and it's really explicitly stated that Dick's the one that Bruce likes the most. If you haven't read the post or want a refresher, I've already linked it but here it is again - OG POST

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

and also

JLA (1997) Issue #73

"The only time I ever feel pride is when I look at Nightwing. Sometimes I think he's the only thing I ever did right."

When something happens to Bruce, he only tells or trusts Dick with the information of what happened.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #1

His only message was addressed to Dick. Like I could go on and on about this, but I feel my other Dick and Bruce posts give a pretty good idea on how Dick is special to Bruce.

And that's where we will leave the blatant adoration for Dick by Bruce and move on to the next person, cause really, 'nuff said.

Damian > Cass > Tim/Jason > Steph

Dami!! I also explained a bit of why Damian is so loved by Bruce through the comparison of Bruce's reaction to Damian death vs Bruce's reaction to Jason's death in the referenced post, but I never talked about why he's the next in line for favoritism.

Rather, it's a process of elimination of who does Bruce not like the least which we can find through how Bruce treats each member of the batfam and reacts to traumatic passings.

6. Stephanie

The least favorite is, unfortunately, very obvious and it's Stephanie.

Why is it obvious? Because Bruce treats Stephanie like utter shit. I have never seen him act so callously to a member of the bat crew aside from Stephanie. He literally didn't even care that Stephanie died in the War Games arc.

He didn't even want Stephanie in the first place, only using her to manipulate Tim back into being Robin because he knew Tim care about her and knew the dangers of being Robin so he wouldn't want her getting her.

Robin (1993) Issue #92

And so she becomes Robin, eventually.

But Bruce and Stephanie have an extremely strenuous relationship. Stephanie is very independent but Bruce like obedience. A long time ago he would have appreciated independence but not anymore, not when the result is death.

On the final mission of Stephanie being robin, Batman gives her repeated orders that she disobeys.

Robin (1993) Issue #128

Bruce becomes completely fed up with her and fires her.

Long story short, Stephanie steals one of Batman's plans for the city that involved Matches Malone. Steph doesn't know that this is one of Bruce's identities and the whole thing quickly goes way out of control and sets off a city-wide bloody war - AKA War Games. Stephanie gets caught by Black Mask who tortures her and she dies from her injuries in Leslie's Clinic when she escapes. But -

Batman (1940) Issue #633

And after this happens, this bitch sits down has a drink with Dick, who woke up from coma or something I can't remember (he was dealing with the aftermath of Tarantula which is why he wasn't around. Also Alfred threatened to kneecap him if he didn't get back on the bed) asks Bruce what he's gonna do -

And what does he do?

Batman (1940) Issue #634

Bitch. This is the only time (the War Games) Dick walked out on him after Bruce asks for help. Fun fact, Leslie intentionally let Stephanie die even though she could have saved her. She let her die to teach Batman a lesson about making kids Robins. It was later retconned that Leslie secretly saved her life but in the original, Stephanie was gone. And Batman straight up did not care.

He didn't care about Stephanie as a person and ignored her passing, completely unaffected.

So that's why Stephanie's 6th on the list.

5. & 4. Tim and Jason (Tie)

I don't want to rehash this again because I truly do not believe I can go into more detail about why they're a tie and who Bruce loves more.

THIS POST I made for anon who asked about the tie will be the answer. But I want to highlight @canthandlethishit 's reblog because in my post had said I didn't know why it feels like Tim was slightly less even though Bruce treated him better.

This line: "there’s a saying “the kid who cries gets the candy/milk” and sometimes being too easy to raise makes a kid receive less love & attention from their parents"

EXCELLENT! Fantastic analysis!!

3. Cass

Cass is tricky because because Bruce doesn't actually have a reason for liking her. He just does. I think what Bruce really loves about her is her dedication to making Gotham good.

Batgirl (2000) Issue #50

Batman & the Outsiders (2019) Issue #17

I think the reason Batman treats her so well is because she acts like a daughter to him. None of his children are so open with wanting affection as Cass is, ironically. And Bruce appreciates that. He's a dad and some part of him, behind all his walls, wants to be needed as dad which Cass does for him. She understands what he wants because she's good at that and loves him because she wants it too. Cass is Bruce's only daughter. So it's a combination of dedication to faith that Gotham City can be better as well as the fact that she's ready to genuinely be a daughter for him.

2. Damian

A big part of it is that he's Bruce's blood son. I know we make jokes about being wanted vs forced or whatever with Damian but Damian's arguments in those jokes do hold.

Aside from Dick, Bruce doesn't react to anyone as strongly as he reacts to Damian. When Damian was dying and died, he lost it. I would provide panels but it's basically the entirety of Batman and Robin (2011).

A part of it, is also that Bruce actually raised Damain. He and Dami struggled with each other for the longest time and still do, but that's his son.

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #10

The following panels of Bruce going crazy are, as you probably guess it, in the OG Post and the Eldest Daughter Syndrome Post where I talk a little about the effect Damian's death has on Batman.

[hisfavegiri]

Please Stay - Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Fiancé! Reader

At just 24 years old, you are celebrated as the best surgeon in your city and the youngest ever to hold the title. It’s a reputation you’ve earned through sheer determination and exceptional skill. Starting your residency only a year and a half ago, you quickly distinguished yourself as one of the brightest and most talented young doctors the hospital had ever seen. Your rapid ascent to becoming a professional surgeon was nothing short of remarkable, breaking records and earning the respect of both your mentors and peers.

One evening, as you prep for a complex case, a senior surgeon approaches, a mix of pride and curiosity in his expression.

“I still can’t believe you’re only 24,” he says with a chuckle. “When I was your age, I was still fumbling through my first surgical rotation.”

You smile modestly, glancing at the patient’s chart in your hand. “Well, I had a lot of great teachers,” you reply. “And… maybe I don’t like fumbling.”

He laughs, patting your shoulder. “Humility suits you, but don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got talent, and everyone here knows it. Just don’t burn out. You’ve got a long career ahead of you.”

You nod, appreciating the advice but already feeling the weight of expectations. “I’ll try, but it’s hard to slow down when there’s so much to learn—and so many lives depending on us.”

He pauses, studying you thoughtfully. “You’re right, but remember: you’re not alone. The pressure is real, but so is the support. Don’t forget that."

As he walks away, you take a deep breath, looking toward the operating room. The hum of the hospital surrounds you, and though the road has been tough, you know this is exactly where you’re meant to be. Every challenge, every late night, every life saved—it’s all part of a journey you’re proud to call your own..

You glance nervously at your phone, your fingers tapping lightly on the edge of your desk. You’re waiting for a message from your fiancé. He promised to come and meet you tonight to celebrate your anniversary, but so far, there’s no text or call. Your mind races with thoughts—what if he forgot? What if he’s stuck at work? You shake your head, trying to stay focused, but the waiting feels unbearable.

In the bustling hospital lounge, your colleagues notice your unusual behavior.

“Hey, Dr. Prodigy, what’s up with you?” one of the residents teases, leaning casually against the counter.

“You look like you’re about to scrub in for a life-or-death surgery!” another doctor adds with a laugh.

“Come on, give her a break,” says a nurse, smirking. “She's clearly waiting for a very important text.”

You sigh, trying to play it cool, but your reddening cheeks betray you. “It’s nothing,” you mumble, glancing at your phone again.

“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing,” the first resident chimes in. “What is it? A date? Anniversary? Wedding planning?”

You hesitate, then finally admit, “It’s our anniversary. My fiancé said he’d meet me after my shift, but… he’s late.”

There’s a moment of silence before the group erupts into exaggerated gasps and laughter.

“Well, that explains it!” one of the doctors jokes. “No wonder you’ve been pacing like a nervous intern before their first surgery!”

“Don’t worry,” another adds with a grin. “He’s probably planning something special. You’ll be fine, Dr. Genius.”

Despite their teasing, you can’t help but smile. Their laughter reminds you of the camaraderie that makes the long hours and stressful days bearable. You glance at your phone one more time—and just then, it buzzes with a message.

“On my way. Can’t wait to see you. Happy anniversary, love.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you tuck your phone away, a small smile on your lips. “Alright, everyone, back to work. I’ve got a shift to finish before my celebration begins!” You walk away, feeling a mix of relief and excitement, ready to face whatever the evening holds.

You continue the rest of your shift in high spirits, the anticipation of seeing your fiancé carrying you through the usual chaos of the hospital. As you check on your last patient, a subtle vibration from your pager grabs your attention. Glancing down, your heart sinks for a moment. The screen flashes the emergency code: “911.” Without hesitation, you shove the pager back into your pocket and start running toward the ER, your earlier excitement replaced by the sharp focus that comes with urgency.

The ER is already alive with activity when you burst through the doors. Nurses and doctors are moving swiftly, their faces tense. You spot Dr. Harris, the attending physician, waving you over.

“Glad you’re here!” he calls out. “We’ve got a trauma case incoming—multiple injuries from a car accident. ETA is two minutes.”

You nod, quickly pulling on gloves. “What do we know so far?”

“Three victims,” he replies. “One critical—possible internal bleeding. This one’s yours.”

Your heart pounds, but you keep your voice steady. “Alright. Prep the OR and alert radiology. We’ll need imaging as soon as they arrive.”

As you finish speaking, the sound of ambulance sirens pierces the air. The doors swing open, and paramedics rush in with the first stretcher.

“Male, mid-30s, unresponsive. BP’s dropping fast!” a paramedic shouts.

You step forward, assessing the patient quickly. “Let’s move him to Bay 3. I’ll take it from here.”

The room fades away as you focus entirely on stabilizing the patient. Every movement is precise, every instruction clear. This is where you thrive—under pressure, in the heat of the moment, saving lives.

As you work, a voice in the back of your mind whispers about your fiancé, about your anniversary, but you push it aside. Right now, there’s only the patient in front of you. The celebration can wait—someone’s life cannot.

As you focus on stabilizing your patient, you catch a glimpse of another stretcher being wheeled into the ER. For a split second, your breath hitches—it’s as if you see your fiancé lying there, pale and motionless. Your heart skips, but you shake the thought away. This isn’t the time to lose focus.

“Stay with me,” you whisper to your patient, tightening your grip on his wrist as you check his pulse.

“Doctor!” a nurse calls out, her voice urgent. “His blood pressure is dropping fast—60 over 40!”

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, your mind racing. “We’re losing him. Prep for transport to the OR immediately!”

The nurse nods, rushing to comply as you continue working, pushing every thought of the other stretcher from your mind. You glance at the monitor—his heart rate is erratic, and his oxygen levels are plummeting.

“We’re out of time,” you say firmly. “Get anesthesia and notify the OR team. He needs surgery now, or we’ll lose him.”

Two orderlies arrive with the portable monitor and start unhooking him from the trauma bed. As you help guide the stretcher toward the elevator, the fleeting image of the other patient flashes in your mind again. Was it really him? You shake your head, forcing the thought aside.

“Focus,” you mutter to yourself. “He needs you right now.”

As you step into the elevator with your patient, the weight of uncertainty presses on you. You tell yourself you’ll check the ER again once this surgery is done—but deep down, a knot of fear has already formed in your chest.

Inside the operating room, you struggle to focus as your hands move with practiced precision. The patient’s vitals continue to drop, and while you should be entirely absorbed in the procedure, your mind keeps wandering back to the glimpse of the stretcher in the ER. Was it really him? Could it be? You push the thought away, but it keeps clawing its way back.

“Doctor, the patient’s blood pressure is still falling,” the anesthesiologist says, his tone tense.

“I see it,” you reply, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. “Suction, now. I need a clearer view.”

As you continue, something doesn’t add up. The internal bleeding isn’t where you anticipated. Your frustration grows alongside your racing thoughts. The faces of your fiancé and the patient in front of you blur together in your mind, and you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to stay present.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, pausing for a brief moment. “We’re missing something. Extend the incision. I need a better look.”

A nurse hesitates. “Doctor, are you sure?”

You nod firmly, steadying your hands. “Yes. There’s something we’re not seeing. Prepare the cauterizer and suction.”

As the area of the incision widens, your suspicion is confirmed—a hidden arterial tear, steadily leaking blood. You suppress a wave of relief and focus entirely on the repair.

“Clamp here,” you instruct, your voice now steady. “And suture ready. We’ve got this.”

The tension in the room eases as the bleeding slows. The patient’s vitals begin to stabilize, and for the first time since the operation began, you exhale.

“Good work, everyone,” you say, stepping back slightly as the team begins cleanup. But as you glance up at the clock, your mind drifts back to the ER. The knot in your stomach tightens. As soon as this is over, you know exactly where you need to go.

After scrubbing out and cleaning yourself up, you waste no time heading back to the ER. The patient you just operated on is stable, but the knot in your chest refuses to ease. As you hurry down the corridor, a colleague runs toward you, her expression stricken.

“Doctor!” she calls out, slightly out of breath. “It’s your fiancé—he’s in Trauma Two. Critical condition.”

Her words hit you like a freight train. Your heart drops, and for a moment, the world around you blurs. “What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“There was a car accident,” she continues quickly. “He was one of the victims. He’s intubated and in bad shape.”

Without waiting for more, you break into a sprint, the hallway stretching endlessly ahead of you. You burst through the ER doors, ignoring the chaos around you, and make a beeline for Trauma Two.

There he is. Lying on the bed, pale and motionless, with tubes and wires attached to his body. The ventilator hisses softly, each sound a cruel reminder of his fragility. Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to stay upright.

A nurse glances at you and steps aside, giving you space. “We’ve stabilized him for now,” she says gently, “but his injuries are severe. Internal bleeding, possible head trauma. We need to move him to the OR soon.”

You swallow hard, your voice breaking. “I—I’ll take over. Prep the OR. I’ll do it myself.”

Another doctor steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t, not like this. You’re too close.”

You shake your head fiercely, tears stinging your eyes. “He’s my fiancé. I have to do this. I’m not letting anyone else touch him.”

For a moment, there’s silence, and then the team nods in understanding. The nurse squeezes your arm gently. “We’ll support you. Let’s save him.”

You take a shaky breath, wiping your tears away. You’ve saved countless lives before, but this time, it’s personal. You step closer to the bed, gripping his hand tightly for a brief moment before steeling yourself.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, your voice trembling. “I won’t let you go.” Then, with a newfound determination, you start issuing orders. There’s no room for hesitation now—his life depends on you.

As you prepare to scrub in for the surgery, your focus razor-sharp despite the emotional weight pressing down on you, the door swings open, and chief steps in. His face is stern, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

“You’re not scrubbing in,” he says firmly. “You’re too emotionally involved with this case.”

You freeze, disbelief washing over you. “Chief, with all due respect, I’m the most qualified surgeon available for this operation. No one knows his medical history better than I do.”

“That’s exactly why you’re not doing it,” he replies, crossing his arms. “This is a critical surgery, and your emotions will cloud your judgment. I can’t allow that.”

Your voice rises, desperation creeping in. “Cloud my judgment? I just performed a high-stakes surgery an hour ago, and I was fine! I need to be in that room. He’s my fiancé!”

“And that’s why you can’t,” the chief cuts you off, his expression softening slightly. “I understand how hard this is for you, but the best thing you can do for him right now is to trust your colleagues. Let us do our job.”

You clench your fists, your frustration boiling over. “I’m begging you, please. Don’t shut me out of this.”

But his decision is final. “You’re out. That’s an order.”

With no choice but to comply, you storm out of the prep room, your chest heaving with anger and helplessness. Instead of leaving entirely, you make your way to the observation gallery above the operating room.

From the gallery, you watch as your colleagues begin the surgery. Your heart pounds with every movement they make, your hands instinctively mimicking the motions as though you’re the one holding the scalpel. You mutter under your breath, second-guessing their decisions and silently willing them to hurry.

“Come on,” you whisper, your nails digging into your palms. “Don’t make any mistakes. Please, save him.”

Every second feels like an eternity as you sit there, powerless to do anything but hope and pray that the team below can succeed where you can’t.

From the gallery, your eyes are glued to the monitors and the movements of the surgical team below. Every beep of the heart monitor sends a jolt through your chest. Your fingers clench around your phone, the screen still showing your last call with his family. They’re on their way now, but it feels like time is crawling.

You whisper to yourself, almost as if he can hear you. “Hold on… just hold on a little longer. They’re coming.”

Below, the lead surgeon suddenly calls out, “BP’s dropping—heart rate unstable! Suction here, now!”

Panic grips you as you lean forward, pressing your hands against the glass. “No, no, no,” you mutter, your voice trembling. “Do something. Fix it!”

A nurse below glances up at the gallery, her concerned eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before she refocuses on the patient. You feel utterly helpless, the familiar rhythm of surgery playing out in front of you while you’re forced to stand on the sidelines.

Your phone vibrates in your hand—a message from his mother: We’re almost there. How is he?

You stare at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. What do you even say? That you’re watching his life slip through the cracks, unable to do anything? That you’re terrified he might not make it?

As his vitals dip further, tears sting your eyes. You whisper shakily, “Come on, fight. Please. Don’t leave me.”

For the first time in your career, you’re paralyzed—not by lack of skill, but by the weight of love and fear. The ache of not being able to save him yourself cuts deeper than any failure you’ve ever known.

tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)

[junos-jrabbles]

Hi! I have a TF2 request/suggestion for you if you want. You can choose the mercs you like to use, though I may humbly request Engie. Romantic or platonic, and in whatever form you would like.

The team has a new recruit! They are one of the most genuine, patient, friendly, sweetest people one could ever meet. They make everyone breakfast in the mornings, they listen to people's problems, they volunteer at a puppy orphanage, talk down muggers in the street, essentially a bottle of sunshine as a person.

On the battlefield however, they are most certainly one of the scariest people alive. They are incredibly strong and durable, no need for weapons when they can tear people apart with their bears hands and teeth. They are brutal, carnage incarnate, and have absolutely no fear whatsoever.

Now, their sweetness is genuine, they are not faking anything. Outside of battle they are one of the most pleasant, stable people on the team. If ever asked, the best reply they can ever give is "This is a war with no true death. (Thanks to the respawn machine) When you can play a game with no consequences, why not have a little fun? ~"

What do the mercs think about their new teammate? How did they react to seeing their first time on the battlefield? How scary is the game with a player who doesn't care?

(sorry for the length there, I get all excited. This would obviously only really work if the respawn machine is a part of the setting.)

Thank you so much for the request!! My first one :) And don’t worry about the length!!! I love excited rambles x3

Sorry that this is short!! i wrote a little hcs list for this for a little more content, but it might take a lil longer to post LOL I'll link it here when it's ready <3 and sorry for the wait, i hope this is what you were lookin for!!

Wild, meet tame.

Engineer/GNC Reader, 1k words

It was like watching a switch flip, he'd never seen it before, ever. Not as drastically as it would with you, at least. One minute he'd be wiping encrusted blood off the turret of his sentry, remnants of some poor enemy Scout, when he'd turn his head to see you barreling into the front lines. The team's Medic struggles, then practically gives up trying to keep up with your rampaging pace.

“It's like zhey don't… don't care!” Medic howls, crouching down by his dispenser to recoup lost energy. He shrugs, you're one hell of a bottled storm out here, and he can only wonder if there's anything deeper down that you're hiding away. He can see you still, just barely, from the vantage point he'd set his nest in, and by God was it a bloodbath down there. The enemies are torn to shreds in seconds, not unusual when under fire from the hulking Heavy and his repertoire of miniguns. But, the lack of gunfire is what was most unsettling.

He could see you, teeth bared, lunging in a fruitful hunt for blood, the enemy soldier screaming as he tried to kick you off of him, nearly blowing you both to bits, but sky high like a bloody firework. It was effective, and their offensive pushes were a lot weaker with someone like you guarding the captured points. There was always a nervous hum in the air when someone would call out your death, a moment for the enemy to recoup, only for them to be torn down by your wrath again.

It'd been nothing but victories recently, and it was unlike anything they'd ever experienced. Even those above them had been a little nicer recently, and boy it sure was infectious.

“Y’doing alright there, Engie?” He closed the fridge door, and looked around. What had he come in here for, that your voice had drawn him out of his search for? The cold air that brushed past him raised a shiver across his skin.

“Whatever you're after, I can cook up, I don't mind.” You're humming, pouring something into a pan on the stove, and whatever it is, smells amazing.

“Those pancakes?” He asks, stepping over gingerly, usually anyone brave enough to cook in the communal kitchen would tell any company to get out, lest they be branded by a scorching hot spatula across the face. Not you though.

“Yeah! I'll make you a few. You been eating enough, all holed up in that workshop of yours?” The sweet smell is even stronger now as you flip the pancakes, your words just as sweet, with a simple, kind hesitance in the playful tease. He knows you wouldn't poke fun at his work.

“I think there's some honey or chocolate chips around here if you want some in ‘em, hon.” And with that small mission given, you're back to humming some classical piece he'd heard playing in Medic’s office once or twice, familiar.

There's a beat of silence as he just… watches you. Only for a moment, eyes lingering where they should, just curious. He wants to ask something, but the words don't exactly come easily. He turns, and begins to rummage through some of the slightly-too-high cabinets, finding the chocolate chips, which some dickhead has placed just out of reach. He reaches high, tip toed, fingers just barely tickling the bag before he manages to swipe it down off the shelf, and bring it over to you.

The bag hits the counter with a rattly thwump, and you lean over, looking inside. “These’ll do just fine…” The smile on your face is nearly eerily pleasant as you take the bag and dump a small handful into the poured batter. There's a smoky smell in the air, but the baked goods seem fine, and Pyro isn't hanging around yet.

There's been a few moments where he questions you, your motives, your actions, but… You hadn't done anything to seem like a bad person. If anything, you'd done nothing but prove the opposite! Hell, even the Doc's birds liked you, and that's a real feat! “Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He muttered, pondering you deeply, though trying not to, you'd done nothing to earn such scrutiny.

He's staring, he's sure, but he can't seem to pull his gaze away from you. “What made you erh…” Ordinary of him to start a sentence without being sure if where to take it. “Consider… this, as a mercenary, ain't the greatest work for kind folk like you.” He huffs, stepping over to your side, leaning against the flour smeared counter. “As kind as you want to be, at least.” He squints curiously, you're not quite looking at him, glancing to him out to corner of your eye once in a while.

“Am I being investigated, copper?” You coo, smiling coyly, and flip a pancake onto a plate to your left before turning right to face him, crossing your arms across your chest. “I know what you're thinking.”

The air around you is warm, and swirling with the delectable smells of baking and everything sweet. “It's different here, than out there.” You turn back to the pan, prepping another pancake.

A shrill squeak rings out from the hall, and you both snap your heads to the noise, before it squeals down the hall, away from the kitchen.

“What in tarnation— I don't think you're some… monster,” He chides, shaking his head and wringing his gloves hands.

“Not at all, but it's just… So fascinatin’. Watching you go about, tearin’ them to shreds like it's nothin’ to ya, don't even flinch when the enemy Sniper gets a pick on you!”

Even he was prone to a nervous moment or two in a fight, but you seemed to have some sort of miraculous handle on it all though.

“I know it's different.” He resigns, and you slide another pancake onto the plate, then towards him.

You shrug, and turn the stove off, placing a small cover over the larger plate of previously made pancakes.

“There’s no harm in going a little crazy out there, I might come back with a new scar if I'm unlucky, but, well…” Your lips are pursed tightly as you mull over your next words.

“Well, there's nothing to it, we can't die, Dell.” You murmur, he takes a pancake and gingerly bites into it.

“The real fight is only lost when one team gets bored and gives up, basically, so why not have a little fun with it?”

[angelasscribbles]

What Could Have Been: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: What If but more specifically Maximum Damage (the alternate ending)

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing for this chapter: Liam x Max (now), Liam x Riley (past), Riley x Max (past)

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: character death mentioned.

Word Count:  812

A/N: This was written in response to an ask from @kyra75 for the angstgiving event hosted by @choicesprompts. The request was for the prompt "What could have been" and was specifically for the Bad Romance gang. Since BR had a happily ever after, I couldn't come up with a good, angsty what could have been until the alternate ending popped into my head. Once it did, this just suddenly existed in my head and I had to write it.

My other stuff: Master List.

The crown princess of Cordonia was getting married to the love of her life. It was a watershed moment in her life. All of Cordonia would be watching as she walked down the aisle.

The king was sure that there had never been a prouder father in the history of the world. His little princess was all grown up. She was happy. She was radiant. She looked just like her mother.

He turned his head to observe his queen. The years hadn’t dimmed her beauty one bit. She was as beautiful as the day he’d first lain eyes on her in that bar in New York.

Liam had been born into wealth, and raised to rule, but the greatest privilege of his life had been raising their daughter. It didn’t matter that biologically speaking; she was Drake’s daughter. Her DNA didn’t matter.

Drake. The best friend he’d ever had. His childhood companion. His partner in crime. His closest confidant. His brother.

“Don’t get too sentimental. You promised her you wouldn’t cry.” Drake smiled at him from the seat on the other side of Riley.

“How can I help it?” Liam responded as tears slipped down his cheek. “You’re here. You’re both here for her big day.”

“Liam.” Max’s voice intruded on the scene.

Not yet, Max. Just a few more moments.

Riley leaned over and touched his hand. “She’s so lucky to have you. You’ve done a wonderful job. You and Max both. Thank you.”

“Liam. Liam.”

Not yet, Max!

But it was too late. They were already fading.

“Wait! Don’t go!”

“Liam, come on, it’s time to get up.” Max shook him gently by the shoulders. “We don’t want to be late for the wedding.”

Liam blinked against the onslaught of brightness flooding into the royal suite. “Max?”

“Yeah, who else would it be? Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep.”

“I was dreaming, but Max, it seemed so real! I was at the wedding, and Riley was with me! Drake too!”

“Oh, babe.” Max climbed back into the bed and wrapped Liam in his arms and tears sprang into his own eyes. “I miss them too.”

Twenty six years later and he still blamed himself. If only he hadn’t dropped the damn cell phone that day. If only he’d pulled over to the side of the road before trying to call 911. If he’d done that, then Riley and Drake would both still be here. Hope would have her biological parents. Liam would have his queen. He would have his everything.

But that’s not what happened and now all they could do was dream about what could have been.

Liam looked up into his husband’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. It was a tragic accident.”

Max smiled through his tears. Of course Liam knew exactly what he was thinking. Liam was the only reason he was alive. Liam had willed him to live and pushed him to walk again.

Getting out of that wheelchair had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Not because of the grueling months of physical therapy, but because he had felt like he deserved to be there. He would never understand why he had Liam’s love and forgiveness when he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he was grateful for it. And he was grateful for the daughter they shared. The one whose heart stopping smile was the spitting image of the woman they had both lost.

“I know,” Max lied. Today was a happy day, not a day to wallow in recriminations. “We both promised Hope that we wouldn’t cry today.”

Liam laughed, a bit of sunshine returning to his life. Max had a way of doing that. “We all knew that was a lie when we said it.”

“Oh, a bald faced lie! She’s our baby girl. Of fucking course we’re going to cry!”

Liam laughed again as the last vestiges of the dream wisped away.

Riley and Drake would be there in spirit. Hope had left two reserved seats empty to represent them.

Hope was what they had left of their lost loved ones. And she had brought exactly that into their lives. Hope was what they had clung to in those early days of grief. She had brought sunshine and joy, laughter, and beauty back into the world.

Drake had certainly named her appropriately all those years ago.

Four hours later, they watched her say I do. They both cried copious amounts, but they were happy tears.

And while they both wished that Riley and Drake were there with them, they were thankful to have each other.

The king glanced at the two empty seats. He swore he could feel them there. Maybe, somehow, in some other existence, they were.

Deep in his heart, Liam believed that somewhere out there, in an alternate universe, what could have been, was.

[aves-rook-laidir]

Here are my live notes that i typed out on the Sticker App while playing the game for the first time. - MAJOR SPOILERS -

They are slightly out of order because I was just jumping in typing wherever:

Holy shit it’s on TWO DISCS?!!?

Not me staring at the press any button screen for ages

I like that Neve is like Cassandra, your no 1

Davrin Rook bonded so fast because they were immediately thrown into a dragon battle together and it got really tough real quick

Did Gilhanain just say YOUR BLOOD KNOWS YOU’LL DIE HERE?

Absolutely loved bringing harding as the extra companion, she’s just so exasperated by it all

I do feel like the va tone didn’t always fit with certain more serious situations.

Staring at Solas in photomode, so mixed emotions, mostly exasperation.

So what was he doing at the strart? Putting evanuris in a stronger prison, then tearing down the veil, or? Because if he was just putting them in a new prison, and exlained himself to Varric non of this would be happening.

God damn, someone ask Morrigan about the fith blight, actually, is it even public record who journeyed with the Warden? Was it kept hush hush?

Can wardens still hear the calling if all the high dragons are awakend? Whos calling them in the deep roads?

I wonder if Davrin has a hard time talking about the elven god reveal because he has a special relationship with Halla and Ghilanain was the god of Halla? 

Oh, why would we have Varric's shaving mirror?

Lucanis so fucking weird haha

Davrin - “Couldn’t have asked for a better day” Rook immediately, ungracefully slides down a cliff

Emmrich is making a mistake, why would he want to be immortal, like look at these three imortal clowns running around.

Ok so The Ancient Elves were spirits who took physical forms using the lyrium, which is the blood of the ancient titans, They became the first mages? This caused a war between the elves and the titans

I wish they had shown more of Emmrich getting her out of the fade, because that is his very specific skill, like all the attention Lucanis got about using the dagger, to cement Emrrich's role in all this, I wanna see him being a badass in a direct story point.

The Butcher was scarier than Elghanan, should not have been,

Elghanan should have been wayyyy scarier, less talking.

“The gods they give strength but all they ask in return is everything” dope

Literally fuck off no scene getting her out of the fade, her reacting to getting out, the grief? The Relief? Helo?

“Though Harding also told me” LMAO Emmrich

I feel like it makes more sense for Harding to sneak up on Ghillie, This is her moment, tragic because we’ve seen her whole journey. Harding saying ‘should I take the shot’ at the start of the game then taking guaranteeing Ghilanains death with her simple bow and arrow. and to have this little dreamless thing, created out of the desicrated titans be the last thing she sees, fuck yes.

The first thing they did was retrieve all the bodies. They found Harding and Leliana and the Inquisitor brought her back to her village

Solas: How did you even get out of the fade? Rook: gestures vaguely to Emmrich standing behind her ‘He knows more about the fade than you.'

I wish there was a bit more dialogue with Dorian at the end, saying ‘Do it for Varric and or Harding, won’t you? They were just so…oh, you…know...’

Taash everyone I loves dies NONONO I love you!

‘Everything dies, its what they do’ Including imortal gods

Is solas fucking losing??? fucks sake cant even do one thing

Solas assisting the Shadow Dragons at the end paint a funny picture, like, imaging Dorain trying to evacuate the city and Solas is just also there, after like 10 years. How did that reunion go?

It had to be bellara that got blighted, those gods were hers, that history is hers, and she's just so innocent, it was a great character arc

me the whole time 'its fine just go grey warden'

Shaved her head after coming out the fade to feel something

What if it’s not enough? What if it is?

I really though time travel was going to be a thing, after the dorian stuff?

Leo represent my Inky because in my AU she is too weak to travel as the mark is still sucking the life out of her, arm or no arm, but she dragged her ass up for that final scene with Solas. Leli and Josie spread a misinformation campaign around thedas, so unless you meet them directly its really hard to know if Inky is a female Elf, Male Human, and whoever else.

I hope Morrigan is ok

[habijob]

Soooo, Sebastian’s marriage lore has been ping ponging in my head like the pecking DVD logo for the last week.

And the reason being that when looking at it, it does not come with any explanation whatsoever. Which seemed to have resulted in many people getting... let’s call it “overworked” over it.

Including me.

But not because of the related discourse... drama(?) on the official pressure discord.

No, it’s been on my mind for the last week, because the inclusion of this lore doesn’t make sense... yet.

Pressure is stated to be in alpha. And the devs are working on adding more content to it; so any new lore surrounding our favorite pool noodle fish can happen to come across as “incomplete”.

Because it is *incomplete*.

And the marriage lore is this exact thing. It was added for reasons during the friendly fire update I don't want to pin point down, because I want to avoid talking about the drama itself and just want to talk about the ring and the photo.

So, what do I mean by it feels "incomplete". Well, it lacks an explanation how Sebastian got into the possession of these *personal items*.

"But Habi, why aren't you questioning then anything else on his design? From where did he got his clothes?"

I dunno. Maybe these clothes are his personal belongings. Maybe Urbanshade had allowed him to have "free time clothes". Or maybe these clothes were something he found within Urbanshade after he caused the lockdown. Idk, maybe there an entire pecking area for prisoner theater and he got the outfit from a chest with costumes in it. Maybe his pecking jabat shirt thing was part of a pirate costume. Or that green dude that is apparently part of the canon narrative gave him these clothes. Who knows, but it doesn't matter, because these clothes can be seen as not personal belongings.

However a wedding ring and a photo of his wife are personal belongings. And considering Urbanshade seems to be a horrible, horrible company according to the "discord lore", so I have to wonder how Sebastian was able to get these two items (back?) during the lockdown.

And because this bugs me so much, my brain has spent the last couple of days figuring out ideas, on how to answer these questions. So that this marriage lore doesn't feel "weirdly ducttaped on" anymore.

Question 1: "How did the photo and the wedding ring end up in Urbanshade in the first place?"

-> Well, according to a (rather sparingly) google search, death row inmates are allowed to have small amounts of personal belongings.

So, Sebastian could have possessed the photo and ring since he was sentenced to death. And then when Urbanshade scooped him up, he simply took these two items with him.

Like, here's an idea, this guy maybe didn't even know he was getting declared dead by Urbanshade, after he was tranfered over to Hadal Blacksite. So, he always believed that his family and his wife think he's still alive, but well, somewhere else entirely. Not knowing, that they got told he was dead.

Only later learning that he was declared dead by Urbanshade BUT also declared innocent by the authorities, once he had gotten his file into his fingers uh claws?

Question 1.5: "Wait, but isn't his wife also in Hadal Blacksite, if we consider that in that one ref sheet she seems to have void mass tentacles?"

-> She is currently not in the game as an entity or NPC or whatever. Therefore, we are gonna ignore her existence for the sake of keeping this simpler.

Question 2: "What happened to the ring and photo when they were in Urbanshade? Did Sebastian have them the entire time or not?? Because he didn't have the ring and photo before the Friendly Fire update"

-> Well, there are multiple possibilties to this one. The first idea is yes, Sebastian was able to have them the entire time, and that he didn't wear the ring or have the photo with him can simply be explained as "game's still in development".

Another possibility is that some asshole working at Urbanshade took these two things from him. Maybe a guard or a scientist, because they saw Sebastian with these items, and thought that this death-sentenced, 9-people-murderer LR-P doesn't deserve these items.

And so they disappeared.

Question 2.5: "If someone took them, then how did Sebastian find them??"

-> He simply stumbled upon them during his scavanging through the facility. Like, he probably didn't even actively look for them, because he was just trying to find useful stuff, but then he found these very important items to him.

Question 3: "The ring doesn't make sense. His hands and therefore fingers are larger than normal, how can he have such a large ring."

-> I actually attempted to explain this (and the previous question) with a comic of mine. The simple answer is, he probably made himself a new ring, so that he can wear this symbol of his marriage and find comfort in thinking about his wife.

Question 4: "But shouldn't Sebastian maybe realize that his wife could have moved on? It's been 12 years."

-> This man is running on various things like stress, anxiety, adrenaline, low sleep, and what else you can slap into this poor man during a lockdown that he caused, because he wants to break out. So him being very hopeful about his wife is probably one of the only comforts he currently is able to have. Let him have that.

-> Second answer though, now not ignoring his wife anymore. She is probably just somewhere around in the facility, working together with Sebastian, or Sebastian is working on getting her free from wherever she is contained. Who knows? (Well actually, Zerum does, but we don't. Which is why everything here is my speculations.)

But anyway, now the ring and the photo can make sense, and I can hopefully move to being crazy about other stuff related to him.

Late edit; bonus question:

Question 5: "Okay, let's pretend Zerum is in the facility. How the peck did she end up in the facility too?"

-> Perhaps the photo was the reason. Urbanshade knew this is his wife, and when Sebastian became more hard to deal with, they would threaten him with his wife. Eventuall leading to them bringing her down to Hadal Blacksite (somehow).

And then experiments on her ensued ú_ù

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #50

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[peachyutdr]

i finished it, was kicked out of the game, and then spent the next 10 minutes drawing this. i will now go take a shower, most likely cry, and then go through the emotional turmoil of convincing myself to reset so i can do a geno run. i hate it here :D

[kinokoshoujoart]

the coolest kids in forgotten valley!!☆

(…it seems there may have been a stretch of time where rock and lumina were the only kids in forgotten valley…🥲)

poseref

[mc-critical]

1.06 / 2.09 (33)

[the-acid-pear]

I never tried the option myself bc it'd probably mean skipping the Reason You Suck speech at the end (fire for speedrunners though) but I Love that you can frame your Phoneys in 3, especially so if you've already killed the previous two. Like yeah couldn't send you off to die so i'll let the goverment do it for me 🧸 like its just Peak evil imo.

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?