#i kind of fell in love with the Fallen Order game

[speaknow-sw]

•| ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ |•

Content : Blood, deaths, injury.

A/N : This is the prologue, I only have three chapter written so far but at the second I get my wifi back I’m getting into writing. Hope y’all like it. (Minors can interact).

•| ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ |•

Rome was built on blood. And you were the hand that spilled it.

THERE ARE STORIES CARVED INTO THE BONES OF THE EARTH, whispered through the winds that sweep across ancient ruins. Tales of glory and conquest, of gods and mortals entwined in fate’s cruel embrace. The foundation of Rome is one such tale—a story of two brothers, bound by blood and divided by destiny. But as with all legends, there are truths buried beneath the myth. Forgotten truths.

They say Romulus built Rome, that he was chosen by the gods to raise its walls and reign as its first king. They do not speak of the blood spilled to make that city rise. They do not speak of the brother he killed to crown himself in glory.

There were once two brothers.

Romulus was the elder—clever and kind, the embodiment of law and order. He dreamed of empire, of power forged in marble and blood. He believed in destiny, a thread spun by the gods that he alone was meant to hold. He was a man of ambition, of unyielding will, a figure carved from Vesta.

And then there was Remus.

Wild and untamed, like a storm that could never be captured. His laughter echoed through the forests, and his rebellion burned brighter than any hearth fire. He saw the world not as it was, but as it could be—free from chains, free from the gods’ cruel games. Where Romulus sought order, Remus sought freedom. Where Romulus spoke of duty, Remus spoke of love.

And you—

You were a thread woven between them. Promised to Romulus, a symbol of unity and strength. But your heart… your heart belonged to Remus. From the moment you met him, you were lost to him. He was the untamed sky, and you were a restless sea, drawn to his wildness, to the way he saw you—not as a pawn in a king’s game, but as something free.

For a time, you believed love could overcome fate. That you could be more than what the gods decreed. But love, like all things, demanded a price.

When the brothers stood on the banks of the Tiber, planning their city, it was not the gods who chose the victor. It was betrayal. It was blood.

It began as a game. The brothers sought a sign from the gods to determine who would build their city on which hill. Romulus stood on the Palatine, and Remus on the Aventine. Romulus claimed twelve ravens flew above him, a symbol of divine favor. Remus, desperate not to lose, lied—saying six ravens flew above him first, trying to claim the gods had spoken to him before they turned to Romulus.

Romulus saw through the lie, and his heart hardened.

To Romulus, the betrayal was unforgivable. His brother had not only tried to take the city meant for him but had tarnished the will of the gods. The gods had chosen Romulus, and in Remus’s defiance, he saw rebellion, chaos—a threat to everything he dreamed of building.

When Remus leapt mockingly over the boundary Romulus had marked for the city walls, Romulus saw not a jest, but a challenge. His sword met his brother’s heart before the laughter faded from Remus’s lips.

Romulus knelt over his fallen brother, his hands stained with blood. He did not weep. He whispered words of duty, of sacrifice, convincing himself that this was what the gods demanded.

But Romulus hadn’t struck his brother down only for his mockery. He had seen you with Remus, seen the way you looked at him with love meant only for a husband. His rage was not born of ambition alone—it was born of betrayal. His brother had taken what was his.

The gods watched as Remus fell to the earth, his blood seeping into the soil that would one day grow Rome. They watched as you wept over his broken body, as your cries pierced the heavens and as your body was thrown into the Tiber. But the gods are cruel, and they do not weep for mortals.

For your infidelity, they cursed you.

You would be the goddess of legends, doomed to remember the forgotten brother. While the world praised Romulus, calling him the founder of Rome, you would walk the earth, whispering stories of Remus to those who cared to listen. His name would fade from history, but it would never fade from your lips.

You became a wanderer, a keeper of forgotten truths. You roamed the ruins of Rome, tracing the paths you once walked with Remus. You stood by the Tiber where he fell, your fingers brushing the reeds as if they still held his blood. You told his story to passing travelers, to poets and dreamers, hoping that someone—anyone—would remember him.

Centuries passed. Empires rose and fell. But your curse endured. The world forgot Remus, praising the greatness of Rome, built on his bones. Romulus was remembered as a hero, while Remus became nothing more than a whisper on the wind.

But legends are never truly lost.

The gods are cruel, but fate is crueler. Time is a circle, and stories never end—they simply begin again. The soul of Remus, restless and wild, could not be bound by death. He would be reborn, again and again, destined to cross paths with you across the ages.

And now, in the heart of Rome’s empire, he lives once more.

He is not a prince or a king this time. He is no longer a man of noble birth, destined to build cities. He is a gladiator, a slave, bound in chains, his body scarred by the lash and his heart hardened by loss. But his eyes—those storm-blue eyes—are the same.

You see him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life with the same reckless abandon that once made you love him. His name is no longer Remus. He is Anakin now—a man forgotten by the gods, but not by you.

You watch him from the shadows, aching with the weight of centuries. You want to reach out, to call his name, to tell him that you remember. That you have always remembered. But the gods are watching, and they will not forgive you for defying them again.

Still, you cannot stay away.

Your paths will cross. They must. The gods may curse you, but they cannot erase what was written into the stars.

Rome was built on blood, on betrayal, on love lost and found. And as you stood among its ruins, you knew that history will repeat itself. The immortal and the reincarnated. The forgotten brother and the wandering soul.

But heroism was not your fate.

And what nobody knew, was that before the creation of Rome and before their names were changed by layers of history, the brothers true Jedi names, the one they were born with as simple mortals…were Anakin and Obi-Wan. 

[madschiavelique]

omg okay y’all absolutely LOVED this post right here about young halsin x you turning to the shadow druids and meeting decades later so let me elaborate a bit about it (ps i’m in pain physically as i write this so it’s not proofread at all and very quick but i need to let some thought out)

imagine halsin and you, in his quarters, ready for interrogation. it’s night, some fireflies are coming in and out of his windows, but you’re not watching them. your eyes are planted in halsin’s.

so many questions swirl in his mind like individual drops of rain falling all at once together on calm water.

you were gone, at least that’s what he had thought for so many years. maybe you had perished after the flames, maybe you had changed of continents, maybe you had fought another battle that led you to the sour arms of death.

he never thought he was to see you again, not even in afterlife. but here you are, all tied up in front of him.

more beautiful than ever.

and you, you’re watching him in silence, hooked on his lips in expectation of whatever he might say.

he has the strength to form a sentence, trying his very best to keep it all under the “protecting the grove” argument.

“why are you here ?” he asks.

his voice changed so much. it’s much deeper, like thunder coated in honey. his voice was already the sweetest back in the days, but the new one…

“trying to prevent your grove from getting in trouble.” you answer, leaning your head back against the wood of the wall, not leaving his eyes.

he frowns, the duties of archdruid have changed him. he matured, you think, he made a man out of the snarky boy you once knew.

“from…” he says, searching his words, “troubles like you ?”

troublemaker, that was the nickname he used to give you. you’d always tried by every mean to make him look less perfect than how he used to be back in the days, and you still wondered if he had managed to remain effortlessly errorless.

you smiled, full of nostalgia at the single word, “i was your favourite kind of trouble. the one coming for you, though…”

“quit your games,” he stopped, “what are you truly here for ?”

“i told you, your grove’s about to be in danger.”

“how’s that ?” he scoffed, “you, the great deserter, coming to such a haven in search for something else to destroy ?”

halsin still had some bitterness. you had not just left him, you had been dishonest with him, betrayed your home, your friends, your circle, him.

“i did not mean to destroy the temple.” you said between clenched teeth.

“but you did it anyway.” he spat.

“because it was either see this stupid rubble go into flames or watching you die!” you snapped.

halsin’s eyes went wide, anger and surprise and confusion passing on his face and heart without transition as he looked at you with new eyes.

now, imagine that the reason why the shadow druids took you in in the first place was because of leverage, and this leverage was halsin.

imagine the poisoned words they made you drink, how they certified to you that by coming to their order you could finally top him on something and not be an eternal second of his.

that notion of being second had for a while been less and less present to the front of your mind, this simply because you were no longer in a competition with him, at least not in your mind.

but what if they had made you believe that halsin charming you until you fell for him was his own strategy to get first ? what if they had made you bitter enough about him that you had fallen for their lies ?

what if they had threatened to kill him if you were to not join them ?

should i give more loves 👁️👁️

small tags for the people that wanted to hear more about this !!

@halsinningiswinning @radioactivepidgeon @daughter-lilith @fruitymoonbeams-blog @sparrowbard @oooof-ifellforyou @girlwithadragonheart @altered-delta

[phoenix-writer2]

🅼🅸🅳🅽🅸🅶🅷🆃 🅲🆄🅳🅳🅻🅴🆂

synopsis: Kenma loves to cuddle with you

pairing: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, cuddle, late night, no prof reading, kind of short i think

Note: I just had this idea about Kenma and thought why not writing it. Enjoy it♥️

The room was silent. The moon shone like hundreds of stars at once, illuminating the large room with its healing light. Neon lights hung on the walls on the right side of the room, on the left side the lights were off.

A bed stood against the left wall. Fluffy pillows and blankets were fluffed up and a figure was buried underneath. Hair spread across the pillow, you breathed in and out deeply, listening to the all-too-familiar sounds of key clicks and mouse movements. You couldn't sleep, even though the clock screamed painfully in your ear that you had to get up and go to school again in a few hours. But still your head couldn't shut off. You turn your head and squint your eyes against the bright light of the screen. You watched as the person in front of the computer skillfully operated the keys and mastered the video game inside with precision.

Blond, black hair was tied into an unpresentable bun and the oversized sweater was pulled over her head without care or order. The light from the blue LEDs enveloped his body and made him look almost angelic. You would never have thought that this genius in front of you at the gaming table would one day be your boyfriend. Kenma always seemed like the person who never wanted anything to do with love and relationships.

He was more interested in volleyball and video games. But this was actually the reality. For almost two years now, there was something else that kept the bored Kenma alive, something he became addicted to. And that was you. Your voice, your warmth, your laugh, simply your whole presence. he had fallen head over heels in love with you and this love was growing stronger day by day.

You always knew what he needed. Whether it was affection or his rest. You were always there for him. And he couldn't be happier to have you. “Can't sleep?” His voice lit up the room. You hummed. “Too much on my mind,” you mumble and pull the blanket even further over your body. Kenma hummed. Fingers pressed the keys of his keyboard and you could faintly hear the voices of his teammates through his heasset. With tired eyes, you watched as the word “Winner” was written on the large screen.

Kenma said something into the microphone of his confidant and took the device from his ears. Your ears picked up the sound of movement and you noticed how the lights diminished. Finally, the humming of the computer stopped and there was silence in the room. A few seconds later, you heard footsteps coming to the bed and the blanket being lifted.

You sigh contentedly as you feel Kenma's warmth next to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you to his chest and rubbed circles on the lower part of your back with his index finger. Your body immediately relaxed in his embrace. “Get some sleep,” Kenma whispered in your ear. “I'm not going anywhere.” And with those words, the fog came over you, the smell of apple pie lingered in your nose and you sank into his embrace.

A short time later, kenma also fell asleep with you safe in his arms, as if he was afraid you wouldn't be here when he woke up. Neither of you noticed the moon, which looked down on you with its silver light like a smile and gave you its blessing. For him, you really were the perfect couple. And midnight cuddles were part of such a relationship.

Do not copy my work!

[nix-nihili]

for the ask game: Link your three favorite fics right NOW!!! 🫵🤭

hello sarah, I literally don't remember what ask game this is from LMAO!! okay i don't know if these are my all time favs but here are some fics that have been living in my head rent-free (dbda edition!!) in no particular order:

don't go sharing your devotions (lay all your love on me) by @hephanna

In their attempts to rescue Niko from the Astral Plane, Edwin, Charles, and Crystal accidentally summon a second Charles Rowland from another universe. Charles never gave much thought to whether he'd get along with an alternate universe version of himself. Technically, he should, this Charles was just like him: funny, clever, kind - a dead boy detective. Except, this second version of Charles doesn't seem to know how to keep his bloody hands to himself, and off of Edwin.

this fic just. is insanity in the best way possible. I am thoroughly in love with it and have never been normal ever since I read it

for my soul he made an offer (and to dust again i fell) by @aletterinthenameofsanity

Monty gets up on the interview stage and it doesn’t matter what the other tributes have to say, because Monty tells Caesar Flickerman that the boy he fell in love with is the very Mentor trying to save him from the Arena. It’s a dangerous move, but it just might save Monty’s life in the Arena and his body post-Arena. It might just keep him out of the same deal that Esther made for Edwin. A familiar hand touches Edwin’s wrist backstage. Charles’ hands gently pry Edwin’s fingernails away from the bloody crescents they are carving into his palms. “It was the only way I could protect him,” Edwin says, trying to plead with Charles to understand, because Edwin has to do anything he can to protect just one of his tributes. Charles gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “You could’ve told me.” But Edwin twists his wrist slightly so that Charles isn’t touching him, because he knows where this is going even if Charles does not. He knows whose life lays on the line if this plan fails, and it’s not just Monty’s. (Years ago, the President made Edwin kneel and told him that Charles’ life was forfeit if Edwin ever disobeyed. And he won't risk that, even if it means breaking both of their hearts.)

kenna's victor au my beloved. this fic and every other one in the series has my whole heart. it is so well written and excellent and amazing and I very clearly remember how I felt during and after reading the first chapter and then every chapter since then. also met kenna through this so like. added bonus hehe

gig officially gigged by @laiqualaurelote

“This band is all I have,” Edwin says. “I am not about to sully that with…with feelings.” Picked the wrong band for that, Crystal thinks fatalistically.

A punk drummer, a classically-trained virtuoso guitarist, a kawaii metal bassist and a disgraced child pop star form a band. Musical chaos ensues. Rock band AU Updated with a prequel, in which Edwin plays Welcome To The Black Parade on a train station piano for a complete stranger, starts a band and falls in love (not necessarily in that order).

oh god this fic. this fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've never fallen in love with a fic quicker I think. human/modern au of allll time. rotating this one forever. just so so sooo well done.

and special shoutout to the ghost of the past that you live in by @tumblerislovetumblerislife bc I adore this fic wholeheartedly <3

[darling-i-read-it]

if you’re still writing for GTA V could i request something where Trevor is dating a girl that’s younger than him/age gap and is in college, total opposite of him. but he is IN LOVE and he absolutely needs to just marry her, tie her down, etc.

i need you to know that age gap in college total opposite is me so this request made me very <3 it made me <3 trevor i love you.

i hope you enjoy!

Smarts? A schedule? A home that isn't a trailer? Someone who kind of knows what they're doing?

Trevor had never known these things before

You and Trevor met when he was in your college town for a job. He was being shitty about it, lingering around the college bars. He had to wear some snazzy outfit in order to fit undercover and he met you.

He was smitten. You were drinking something strong and he asked you to a drinking game. You were kind of drunk and he looked a little better hazy but you were more than happy to comply to a game.

You sweeped the floor with him.

He had never fallen in love so quickly

You both fell asleep on a bench outside. It was freezing when you woke up in the morning. You had lost your jacket. Trevor offered you his. After confirming the two of you didn't sleep together, the relationship was off.

All of your friends thought you were insane!

They met Trevor in passing (he was usually around, in your dorm even though he wasn't supposed to) (commuting with you even though he had no where to go) (always in college bars, bragging about his girlfriends grades)

"He's kind of old?" a friend noted. You were sitting with your computer out, typing furiously. You really had to finish this essay.

"He's got experience."

"He's bald?"

"Not quite."

"Doesn't he live in a trailer?" You peeked over your computer.

"He can budget. Also, the trailer is fun. When I've cleaned it."

"You're like a maid?" You scoffed.

"Trust me, I'm not a maid. We do lots of things other than cleaning."

the insinuation was fucking but you actually did a lot of things. His whole life of crime thing tended to bleed over to you when you came over. He often had a lot of money though which was a win. Tuition was expensive!

Your friends thought he was a sugar daddy. You didn't deny it?

Trevor liked spending all his time with you. He had never known something so special. He had never loved someone so much.

Obviously his next inclination was to tie you down! He wanted marriage! He wanted a honeymoon!

You were still in college, gathering your own personhood. Marriage is not something that was technically on your radar.

Trevor and you spent some time in a hotel (his treat) so you didn't have to hear your roommate complain. You had your head on his lap, looking eagerly at your computer. Homework. So much homework.

He brushed his hand through your hair.

"What are you writing about now?"

"Climate change."

"Is it changing? It was really hot outside today." You snorted, shaking your head. You shut your computer. You could finish it later.

"Just a bit. How is that thing we did last weekend?"

"Oh the Millers score? It's great. We can buy a house."

"But you're buying another hanger?"

"I like planes." You looked up at him, arching your back to do so.

"A house though...so much square feet. So many places to sit. And do other things."

It was defiantly a weird place to be at the college age. He could kill someone for you (he would. he has.) and he also had no idea what you were doing academically. You complained about shitty professors and he almost killed one of them (you explained that would be proactive)

He told everyone ever about you. He bragged about you to strangers. He told Ron. He told Michael.

No one believed him. Like literally...no one

Ron only believed him when he ran into you at the trailer once over a break

You were so kind (and younger and good looking and smart?). Ron didn't really understand the whole thing but when Trevor kissed you you looked so happy.

It may have been a random relationship but it worked so well for the two of you. Yes, it was kind of weird because you were constantly doing homework. He was in crime and made meth! Sometimes opposites attract.

"Are you going out out tonight?" Trevor asked, sitting in your dorms fire escape. Quick exit if he needed it.

"I have one of my 300 classes to study for."

"You should drop out."

"You paid my tuition for this quarter."

"And I am telling you to drop out." You rolled your eyes, looking at him through your lashes. He waited, eagerly. He was wearing some clothes you had gone out and bought together. If you could just convince him to change that haircut. "We should get matching tattoos."

"Trev."

"A heart with an arrow."

"Trev," you said, laughing gently. "I'm busy. Don't you have people to scam?" He took a step in through the window. He gestured outside into the night.

"I have the helicopter on the roof. I could teach you."

"Oh God, do you remember the last time you tired? I'm like..horrendously bad at helicoptering." You could fly the crop duster! But the helicopter had too many things to focus on.

"We can go to Paris." You shut your computer.

"You are gonna make me fail." He hit the window sill.

"I'll pay the tuition for next quarter too."

[uroboros-if]

Who are your fav ros from other ifs/wips/upcoming wips???

Hi Anon!

Unfortunately, I haven't read a lot of WIPs lately—I used to consume them voraciously years ago, but I tried lessening the amount of WIPs I follow because I'm very bad with waiting! It's hard for me to temper my excitement, but I love IFs still! Even if they're finished, I also have a hard time making time just to read. :(

That being said, I've made a few special exceptions for these IFs, in no particular order:

Nimue from Bastard of Camelot (@llamagirl28). I fell in love with her right away when she came on screen! I love how mysterious, yet mischevious she can be, and I'm a sucker for those kinds of characters <3 As I was reading, I kept seeking her out and hoping she returned on screen... 🥺🥺

Rayyan from CT:OS (@allieebobo). In general, I love all games by allie because they're just so undoubtedly queer. I can't describe it, and I can't place my finger on it. Even if I play it straight, I know it'll still feel very gay. Also, she is just so good at writing characters!! I loved the dynamic the MC has with Rayyan, and reading their interactions and the story is one of the few times I felt so excited and happy reading an IF!

Marco from Blood Moon (@barbwritesstuff). I played this when it was a WIP, and again, while I tried to shield my heart from WIPs, I decided to read Blood Moon anyway and loved it so much!! Marco won me over immediately, but Carrie also has a special place in my heart. (In fact, all the ROs do, since I played all their routes!)

Wren from Unsanctioned (@unsanctioned-if). Again, I adore my intelligent characters, and I especially love intelligent and arrogant characters the most! They are just so beautiful, too, it was love at first sight!!

Michael from Fallen (@fallen-if). I actually have a lifetime grudge against everyone called Michael, and I'm not kidding. My hatred for Michael's is real. And yet, I can't help but be so enthralled by this Michael and I absolutely hate it!! It drives me crazy in a good way. He's too loveable. Ugh.

I've become very picky in what I choose to read and invest in, because I pour too much of myself in loving things. I will definitely resolve to read more, when I can :)

Thanks so much for sending an ask!! 💕💕

[citrusrei]

In This Lifetime.

Joel Miller x Reader 18+ MDNI Summary: You might have fallen for a man before the world went to hell. He might have fell for you too. Genre: lil dash of angst maybe, Smut, Fluff TLOU!Universe Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: Pre-Outbreak!Joel, slight violence, smut (piv ~unprotected~, fingering, hand jobs, oral m receiving, creampies ig, vocal dirty joel), age gap (reader is 22, joel is 36) good Ol’ soft Joel, slightly possessive joel (yessir) i kind of combined the game universe and the show universe so it takes place in 2013 but imagine whatever joel u want lol. lemme know if i missed anythingggg

Listen to these as you read~

Pt. 1/2

AN: there is a secondary story to this which i was so torn on whether or not I should keep both parts as one or split them up but here we are. This is just kind of introductory and some back story with the lovely pair. Part 2 is already written so it’ll be up a few days after this one i hope u all enjoy it <3 <3 <3

       “You’re up, Sweetheart.”

You grabbed the pool stick closest to you and walked over to the green-topped table, leaning over it as you looked down the cue’s sights. You were obviously aware of how the tight jean skirt you were wearing rode up slightly as you bent over. You were also very aware of the Miller brother staring directly at it.  

Tommy Miller was a born flirt. You could swear that he came out of the womb talking up the nurses. What you hadn’t noticed was Tommy nudging his older brother's shoulder, quirking his eyebrow and nodding over to the show you were putting on.  

Joel glanced, taking a swig of his miller light and then looking away almost immediately. Tommy chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way over to where you were. You’d missed your shot more than a handful of times and Tommy felt bad. He leaned over your body, hands running up your waist to your arms to guide the shot. Sure enough, the solid 8 ball went right into the hole. You cheered with glee, feeling the effects of your vodka tonic. Tommy wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled down to you, swaying you to some country song on the bars radio.

Joel sighed, grabbing the cue of his own and taking his turn, biting back the bile that worked its way up your throat. He hated how Tommy was so openly flirting with. He was always like that. Joel looked down the cues sights and hit. Of course, he gets it the first try. “You’re really good at this, Joel!” You said, smiling his way. Joel smiled back softly, “Not much to it.” he said humbly.  

“Well, I’m just saying. Way better than I am.”

“Yeah, well it’s your first time, right Sweetheart?” Tommy said, taking the shot in your place.

You nodded, looking at Joel again. He stared back almost shamelessly. It was always like this. The stares, the looks, the glances. The few shared words, always cordial and tamed. Joel had to have known you were into him. Who wouldn’t be? He was tall, handsome, and that slight southern drawl? Good lord. But he was also polite, and funny at times. You loved the banter between the two Miller brothers. They were quite literally opposites of each other.

You’d known the both of them for a while. You had met Tommy first at this very bar about a year ago. He’d just gotten back after being deployed for a few years and needed to wind down after time away in a foreign country. And there you were.

You were drunk that night as you and your best friends danced and sang (quite badly) to Shania Twains ‘Man I Feel Like a Woman’. What could you say? It was a guilty pleasure.

He’d been watching you for a while. Watching you laugh with your friends and reject the men who came up to you, trying their luck. He couldn’t help but introduce himself when you walked up to the bar he sat at and ordered another drink. You weren’t interested at first, but he was charming. He’d gotten your phone number fairly quick as he fed you compliments that had your cheeks blushing and your tummy tingling. You probably would have gone home with him that night had your friend Holly not gotten sick from all the sex on the beach’s she was slamming back.

A few days later he texted you, asking if you’d like to meet him at that bar. You agreed. You met up with him for drinks a few more times and then one night he asked if his brother could tag along. Another Miller? You’d already taken a liking to Tommy so you were excited to meet another one. The night you met Joel, he was so quiet and kind of brooding, you almost didn’t like him. That’s until Tommy got a little too tipsy and saw a woman he used to mess around with back in the day and left early with her.

You think Joel felt a little bad for you that night.  You weren’t too upset about it honestly. Yeah, you thought Tommy was hot but after hanging out with him so much, you only saw him as a friend. 

You and Joel actually hit it off after Tommy left. You found he was easy to talk to, which could have also been the liquid courage he’d been drinking. You learned a bit about him as the night progressed. You found out he was quite a bit older than you, you being 22 at the time. He was about 14 years older. Not that you minded. If you were honest, you’d always thought older men were sexy. He was a Father to a teenage girl, name Sarah. The light of his life. He worked as a carpenter which was also added to the appeal. He was good with his hands.  

You talked a bit about yourself. How you had a sister who was younger than you. You bonded over both being the oldest child. You’d just gotten your associates in teaching, your goal to be a preschool teacher someday. He found it admirable. You started laughing when he drunkenly brought up how teachers should be paid more and how he’d always had a crush on Sarah’s 3rd grade teacher.

“You have a nice laugh... It reminds me of wind chimes.” He spoke, almost dreamily. Like he was entranced.  

“Wind... chimes? Is that a good thing?” You said faking offense.

He nodded, sipping on his glass of whiskey, “Very good... it’s pretty to the ears.”

You laughed again, realizing Joel had no idea what he was even talking about. Joel put his hand on your thigh, gripping it lightly. Your heart rate picked up; you had drunk too much to even process anything at this point. “You’re real pretty too. Tommy can’t even see what he has in front of him.” You blinked back confusion as you tried to follow what he was saying.

“Tommy? I think that boat has sailed. He’s a friend. Nothing more.” You said, finishing off your fruity little cocktail. Joel perked up a bit, looking at you a moment before looking back down to his almost empty glass.

“Well, there has to be someone, right? Lil’ thing like you should have no trouble bringing home whoever you want to.”

You laughed for what felt like the 50th time, “I mean, is it hard? No. But... I’m kind of picky. I don’t like just anyone.” Joel stayed silent a moment, letting his hand rest on your leg. His touch seared a handprint to it, you were sure. Your stomach was going crazy and you didn’t know if it was because of him or the alcohol.  

To test the waters a bit more, you continued, “There is someone I think is alright.” You placed your hand on top of Joel’s, dragging it further up your thigh. His eyes watched intently, breathing heavily as it traveled from right above your knee, to your inner thigh and almost under your skirt before he pulled it back to his lap and cleared his throat. You sighed, flustered. You were hoping he’d get the hint but suddenly clarity ran through you and you realized you were both too inebriated to go further. If you were going to ever fuck Joel Miller, it wasn’t going to be drunk. At least for the first time.

“We should call it a night. The room is about to start spinning for me and I’m not fixin’ to throw up tonight.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood. Joel nodded, getting up from his chair. “I’ll call us some taxis.”

After that night, there was nothing you wanted more than for Joel to take you home and fuck you senseless. You couldn’t help it. Something in the way he wore his basic-colored tees and sipped from his drinks or even acknowledged what you said by his little grunts. He was big and muscly but not too much. You were smitten. Plus, you’d never forgotten how his strong hand rubbed up your thigh which added so much fuel to the fire. It was like a little sneak peek of what was to come. Or what you wish would come... or who.

“Alright, I need another drink. Anyone else?” Tommy said, ignoring the blatant stares between you and Joel, or if he noticed, he didn’t care. You kind of had the feeling he’s been waiting for the day you and Joel finally just got it over with.

“I’m okay.” You replied. Joel passed on another drink as well and took his turn, sinking another ball in the gutter.

“How’s Sarah doing?” Joel’s ears perked up at the sound of his daughter's name being said.

“She’s doing good. Has a big math test coming up she’s been studying for. Haven’t seen her much.” You nodded, subconsciously moving closer to the man taking another shot and sinking it. There was a moment of silence between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward or anything, but you did wish he’d say something.  

“What about you? Got anything goin’ on?” He asked, a moment later.

“Not much. Going back to school soon. Start that teaching assistant job soon too, so that’ll be fun.” Joel smiled to you and opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the sound of yelling and glasses breaking could be heard from the bar.

“Fuck you, you redneck piece of shit!” You could hear Tommy yelling as he swung at a rather large man next to him at the bar.  

Your eyes widened as you looked to Joel who was already throwing his pool cue to the table and running over to his brother.

“Hey! What the fuck is going on?” Joel yelled, pulling Tommy back by the fabric of his shirt.

“This prick has no fucking manners is what’s going on!” Tommy yelled, “He said some shit about her!” Pointing to you.

Joel’s eyes flicked to the man in question, his mood changing instantly. He was pissed. “What the fuck did you say?”

The man in front of them laughed as you weaved through the crowd to reach the brothers. You stood back, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire in case anything broke out.

The burly man chuckled, a slimy sound escaping from his throat as he repeated himself.

“I said I’d love to take a little slut like that home so she can ch-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before Joel swung on the man. He hit him so hard you could hear the crack of his jaw and he was out instantly.

“Joel!” You yelped, standing there, eyes wide open as you watched the man fall from the bar stool to the wood floor of the bar. Joel turned around, his hard eyes softening as he saw your expression. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” He hushed; his words quick.

You followed Joel and Tommy out of the bar and on to the busy sidewalk. People stared as you three rushed out, slightly out of breath. The two men conversed with each other a moment before they turned back to you.

“You want me to take you home?” Joel asked. You nodded instantly, feeling the chill in the air as you hugged yourself.

The ride home was quiet. Your adrenaline was pumping and you felt antsy in your seat. You glanced around the truck and noticed Joel’s knuckles were bleeding. You sighed, “Joel... your hand.”

Joel glanced down to his hand and laughed bitterly, “Man got what he deserved. Fuck.”  

After he said that, the rest of the drive was silent. You could hear Joel breathing heavily in the driver's seat, still coming down from the high of breaking a man's jaw. As you pulled up to your apartment, you looked at him, “Do you want to come in? We should look at that hand of yours.”

He agreed and followed you inside. You sat Joel down on the toilet as you kneeled in front of him, dabbing his knuckles with a wet washcloth. He winced a few times and you backed off a moment before continuing. After wiping the dried blood and applying some ointment and bandages, you looked up to Joel to thank him. He shook his head, smiling lightly, “Don’t worry about it. Like I said... he deserved it. Makes my blood boil just thinkin’ about it.”

You subconsciously started tapping his knee as you were still kneeling before him. “Either way... I appreciate it. Is it bad that I was kind of curious as to what he was going to say?”

A quick breath left Joel’s mouth as he studied your wound work, “I think I wouldn’t have stopped had I let him finish.” His voice was deep and serious. It sent chills down your spine. You don’t doubt that he wouldn’t have stopped. The protectiveness of the Miller family is unmatched. It gave you butterflies to know you have someone who would stick up for you like that.

A moment of quietness passed before Joel spoke, changing the subject.

“Do you remember that night a few months ago at the bar? The night Tommy ditched us?”

You smiled, rising to your feet to wash your hands. “Of course, I do. Although, I’m not sure how. I was pretty wasted that night.” Joel smiled too, recalling it.  

“That night,” he began, “When you said there was someone you thought was ‘alright’... Ah, never mind.”

You finished washing your hands and looked at Joel, “I meant you.”

His head snapped to meet your gaze. He already knew the answer but hearing it out loud meant it was real and not just him lost in his thoughts, fantasizing. Hoping he was the one you were talking about. He felt kind of silly. Being his big age, having a crush on a younger woman, and acting like a kid about it. He didn’t know why he didn’t just go up and ask, or flirt back more. Hell, all the times you’d flaunt your body with the short skirts, or the low-cut tops showing just the right amount of cleavage, or even more.  Or all the times you’d run your hand across his back and smile at him, eyes twinkling with a something a bit more than being friendly. Joel knew. He knew you were into him and he never said anything. Maybe some banter back if he was drinking enough, but nothing else.  

And that night at the bar. You leading his hand up your skirt sent Joel into a panic. He was so close to something and he pulled away. Why? Joel knew he was handsome; he had a charm to him. He wasn’t inexperienced or desperate but you made him nervous. He’d been on a couple of dates since his divorce but with raising a teenage daughter and his business with Tommy, they were far and few. And here you were. Beautiful, funny, nice and laughing at his dad jokes? What a catch you were.

“Does that surprise you?” You remarked, “I thought I was bit obvious.”  

Joel came to and started laughing lightly, “I guess I am a bit surprised.” He stood up and walked to you, confidence finding him more and more every second that passed. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flushed against his body. “I should have kept going that night. You got me curious.”

Your eyebrow quirked up to the older man, “Oh yeah? Curious about what?”

“About what exactly you wanted to show me under that skirt of yours that night. I’ve been thinking about it almost every night when I’m home... only one awake. It’s been driving me kind of crazy if I’m being honest with you.” He said breathlessly, the dirty talk already affecting him.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as he held you, telling you he’d been thinking of you, probably touching himself every night. Little did he know you were doing the same. The memory of his hand being inches from where you wanted him most that night could send you into a frenzy.  

Joel leaned into you, hovering over your mouth. You could feel his breath fan across your lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, his hand working its way up from your waist, over the swell of your breast, to your neck. “You don’t even have to ask.” You said, closing the distance between the two of you. Joel kissed you back desperately. Like he’d been waiting for this for a lifetime. He was handsy and unorganized in the way he roamed your body, grabbing where he could as if you’d float away. His hands flew under your top, pawing at the skin of your tummy and further to your lacy bra.

The kiss deepened as Joel’s tongue entered your mouth. He tasted like the liquor he’d been drinking and it was intoxicating. You couldn’t get enough. You sucked on his tongue as his hands went behind you, unclasping the bra under your shirt. “Take both off.” He demanded, breaking away from the sloppy kiss. Your hands left his body as you rid yourself of everything on top, hands flying down to shimmy out of the jean skirt you were wearing too. Joel followed in suit, shedding his flannel and grey tee underneath. He was so toned, your mouth watered at the sight. His skin was tanned from working in the sun, muscles peeking through. You grabbed him again, pulling him back to you as you peppered little kisses across his chest to his neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh. Joel groaned, sending a wave of pleasure down to your pussy. You could feel your cunt gush as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t help but moan back as Joel grunted in your ear. His hands behind you again, running down the length of your back and settling on your ass, giving it a squeeze. He pulled you into him again. You could feel the hardness of his length poking you through the jeans he had on. Your hands dropped from his arms to the zipper of his jeans, shakily trying to rid him of them. You got frustrated and pushed Joel to the sink, dropping to your knees before him, finally unzipping his pants and palming him over his underwear. “Fuck... what a pretty sight this is.”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you grinned innocently, reaching for his cock in his boxers. “Want you in my mouth. Can I?” You asked, freeing his needy length. The tip was red and leaking already. You craved it just from the sight.

“Wanna suck my cock, baby girl?” You nodded, stroking his dick up and down slowly, teasing him a bit. “Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

You took Joel in between your lips, finally tasting the salty liquid that leaked from his tip. It was ecstasy. You felt feral. Already addicted to the taste of this man you’ve been pining for for months. “Ah, fuck. Feel’s so f-fucking nice, baby. Suck me off.” Joel’s dirty words went straight to your cunt which was dripping by now. Your panties stuck to you uncomfortably and all you wanted to do was have him rip them off you. You continued your ministries on his dick, bobbing your head up and down along the shaft, taking breaks to suck his on his balls. Sloppy, wet noises you’d normally be embarrassed of echoing in the room only dampening your panties further. Joel loved it. He was a mess in your hands as he moaned and grunted, weaving his fingers through your hair as he pushed you lower on to his cock. “Take me so well, mm- fuck. Such a good girl.” Joel hissed through gritted teeth. Your free hand flew to your underwear, rubbing the swollen bud, feverishly. Relief flooding through you as you finally got some contact. Joel noticed and pulled you from his shaft to your feet, kissing you hungrily. He could taste himself on your tongue as he sucked on it. His hand replaced yours in your panties, his finger rubbing small but intense circles on your clit.  

“Fuck, J-Joel.” You moaned into his open mouth, bucking your hips into him.  

“Is baby girl getting desperate? Need something more?” he asked, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him.  

“Yes, please. N-Need you in me.” You begged. Joel smiled, kissing you again. He continued the kiss a moment, slowing his rhythm on your needy bud. “Say please for me again, darling.” You whined, rolling your hips against Joel’s fore finger for just a bit more friction.  

“Joel, please fuck me.” Joel grinned against your lips as he removed his hand from your underwear and grabbed your wrist, leading you to your room. Once in it, Joel removed the rest of his clothes, stroking his hard cock a few times. “On the bed.” He demanded. You were instantly on mattress, freshly made this morning about to be wrecked. You shimmied out of your panties, throwing them to the side. You spread your legs as you laid against your headboard, showing Joel how wet you truly were. Your fingers slid from your breast downwards past your stomach to your slick, rubbing your clit slowly as Joel watched you. He watched with hungry eyes, literally on the edge of imploding if he wasn’t inside of you within the next 30 seconds. Joel crawled on to the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you to where he was. “You’re so fucking pretty. So. Pretty.” He said, slapping his heavy cock against the place you needed him the most. You moaned, your head falling back against the pillow underneath you. “Please. Put it in. Please, please.” Joel breathed out a breathy laugh, running his tip between the lips of your pussy, coating his length in yourself.  

“Been wantin’ this for a long time, baby girl.” He said, leaning down to kiss you once more. “Are you ready?” You nodded, feeling as though you were being tortured. Joel guided himself into you with a grunt. He pushed himself past your walls, cursing under his breath, finally feeling your warmth. “f-fuck...” he sobbed out, breath whooshing from his lungs. This was affecting him as much or maybe even more than you. “So fucking nice. Better than I could have imagined.”  

You moaned again, wrapping your arms around Joel as he began fucking into you. He started at a good pace, taking his time with his thrusts. Your legs linked around him, drawing him in closer. Joel could feel it, just how deep he was in you. It drove him mad. His movements stuttered as he repositioned himself in you, picking up speed. Each thrust hit that spongey part inside, causing you to see white hot spots, “fuck, Joel! I’m so close.” You cried out, gripping the back of his neck to hold yourself still.

Joel moaned, thrusting faster now, “Me too, baby girl. Fuck... S-So fucking close.” He grabbed your legs from him, spreading them further apart as he fucked you senselessly. A few more of those thrusts and you were coming undone, his name spilling from your lips over and over again like a broken record. Pressure built in the pit of your stomach and exploded. Your mind went blank and you could only focus on the sensation of his big cock stretching you out so fucking perfectly. “Yes, darlin’. Come for me. Come on my dick.” Joel grunted. His pattern stuttered again and slowed; he was coming too.  “Take it baby girl. Take my cum. It’s all for you.” Joel winced; his jaw tight as he reached his climax right after you. Ropes of his hot cum coated your walls and you squirmed underneath him, loving the feeling. Joel pumped a few more measly thrusts into your cunt before his softened length fell out, leaving the cum to leak from your empty hole. You clenched around nothing as Joel looked down to you, admiring his work. Both of you were covered in a layer of sweat, exhausted.  

Joel fell next to you on your bed, reaching for you and pulling you to his chest. You could hear his heart beat slow down as well as his breathing. It comforted you. You felt so at ease right now, you could have knocked out. Joel brought a hand to your head, petting over your hair. Your eyes closed and you were on the verge of sleep right when Joel spoke, “You okay?” All you could do was nod on his chest, breathing out a sigh of content. Joel chuckled, wrapping both of his arms around you and covering you with your duvet. “I’ll take that as a, yes?”

“Yes. I’m perfect.” You smiled, kissing his collarbone. Joel smiled too, his heart rate picking back up at the little sign of affection. Not many words were said after everything was said and done. You both ended up passing out for a few hours, not waking up until it was nearly 3 in the morning. Joel woke up before you did, stirring under you as you still laid upon his chest.

“Baby... what time is it?” He groaned, feeling you move from him. You leaned over the bed to get a good look at your clock, eyes still full of sleep. “It’s 3:12.” You replied as you yawned, moving back to Joel to curl up in his warmth. Joel rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the grogginess. “I should get going. Sarah is probably worried sick.” He sighed, “forgot to text her.”

You breathed out a long whine, not wanting him to move from your bed, but you understood. You sat up, stretching lightly as you watched Joel slide his jeans back on. “Fine, I won’t be selfish.” You said playfully. Joel leaned over, kissing you lightly, pecking you in sequences. He didn’t want to leave either. But he knew Sarah would probably send a search party for him if he weren’t home when she woke up.

“Text me when you get home, Miller.” He nodded, returning to your room after retrieving his shirt and flannel from where you two started this whole ordeal. “Here. Maybe this will keep ya warm in place of me tonight.” He said, throwing you the plaid garment. You slid it on immediately, buttoning up the few bottom buttons. Joel was standing at the door as you got comfy under your covers again, sleep calling back to you. Your bed reeked of Joel and now with his flannel on too? You’d died and gone to heaven.

“I will text you. Doin’ anything tomorrow?” He questioned.

“Yeah, you.” You replied, eyes closed as you snuggled into your pillow. Joel let out a breathy laugh, “That’s a promise, baby girl.”

Joel left and sure enough texted you when he got home. Which you didn’t see until you woke up many hours later. He had said Sarah was up waiting for him, how she chewed his ear off.  

Over the next few days and weeks, you were attached to his hip. Spending quite literally 24/7 with each other most days. Little dates sprinkled in here and there. Picnics on the weekends, movies with quickies in the theater if it was empty. Dinner dates with not just you but the family. Your mom loved Joel sometimes maybe too much. He thought it was endearing. You had met Sarah who was a huge fan of yours and vice versa. You loved it. You might have even loved Joel, and he might have even loved you. But soon you’d find out, that that was maybe something you’d never get to know.

thank u all sm for reading and I genuinely hope you all liked it <3 I haven’t created anything like this in so long so it might be a lil rusty. Just wait for part 2 though cause i love it so much lol

likes and reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed <3

[kokosnusslos]

Hi I just discovered your blog and your absolutely delicious art so I just wanted to drop by and say how talented and amazing you are but I also just wanted to ask but what exactly is the lore of your purge trooper oc 👀👀👀 Like I'm not gonna lie he looks so cool and interesting and I thought he actually was a character from the franchise I completely missed until I saw it was an oc so now I'm curious to know details and I also keep on seeing another person being drawn with them and I thought they were also an oc until I learned it was a self insert so now I'm also curious about that so does that mean you're self shipping yourself with your own oc which I didn't know you could do but that's actually so cool and has opened my eyes to a world of possibilities now so hope you don't annoyed but at how many questions I'm asking just curious and don't mean ill intent by these

Thank you so much for the kind words, thats so nice of you 🥺 So he's a purge trooper, they're basically imperial troopers during the short aftermath of order 66 where only a few Jedi survived. So these guys are ordered to hunt down those last people and are specialized in doing so. They're only present in the game Jedi Fallen Order/ Survivor hence why people barely know these guys. But I play this game alot and fell in love with them immediately due to their appearance/combat style/voice lines. It was really sad to see that no one really made fanart of them or something so I decided I just create an identity for him if that makes sense. And mostly its just selfship for comfort, this character has made me feel good for a while now and thats just mainly the reason. BUT the "lore" is that I am some sort of outcast rebel/jedi after order 66, yk everyone is on my ass including him, and slowly we devide to not kill each other at the end. How? idk yet. sooo enemies to lovers trope i guess :)

And don't worry, I appreciate you showing interest in my "oc" its really flattering me :') hope you have a nice day!

[unholy-screeching9]

Hi!! First, I want to say that I love your writing style. So much detail! I also LOVE your art!!! Absolutely amazing.

I have a request! I’d like to see King Dice x reader, their first meeting. Game and show, or whichever you prefer! I’m not picky! I’d love to see how the two first met and how or when they fell for each other 🥰

You have free creative liberty with this!!

Feel free to message me if you need any ideas!

Thank you so much, sweetheart! Your kindness means the world to me. A lot of time and effort is put into my work, so I'm very glad it brings you joy. So sorry for the long wait! As always, if these aren't up to your tastes, let me know. I'll revamp them for you.

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting"

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (GAME)

King Dice loves to work in the casino. He has to, otherwise, his life would be absolutely miserable. His deal with the Devil really left him with no other choice.

There’s nothing more satisfying to him than watching those who are stupid enough to walk inside the building lose everything they had worked for. He relishes in the tears of the foolish. 

He also basks in the attention he gets from the ladies, the gentlemen and everyone in between. No matter who has fallen in love with Dice’s looks, the man accepts it wholeheartedly. Enjoys it, even. Multiple times, he’s found himself sitting in the head chair of the Grand Hazard table, with one person on each arm, two behind him with their hands on his shoulders, and even the occasional one sitting in his lap.

There is rarely ever a dull moment in the Devil’s casino. There’s always something to keep Dice entertained, whether it’s a tussle between the drunkards, a particularly exciting derby, or even some new drink concoctions the Tipsy Troop came up with. There’s always something.

Except… those things start to bore Dice. 

Sure, they’re enough to grab the manager’s attention, but the time span that these things keep his attention has slowly been dwindling. 

As invigorating as the job is, the routine has started to become too predictable. Get up. Go to work. Fawn over the attention. Sign soul contracts. Go home. It’s like clockwork. Every single day. 

It’s not to say that Dice is getting tired of his job. Oh, no. Not even close. The man just wishes that things could be a little more exciting sometimes. The shifts are long and tiring, it’d be nice to see at least a little change, to make the day pass by faster. 

Eventually, though, Dice gets his wish. 

The day you started showing up. 

Oh, hell, you are captivating. Your confidence as you strut through the double doors, catching every eye as you mosey your way down to the bar. The clacking of your shoes against the marble floor. The way you shoot a warning glare at anyone who tries to make a move on you. Good heavens, you’re a feisty one. 

Dice likes that. A lot. 

His legs sneakily carry him over to the edge of the bar, where he eavesdrops on your conversation with Ginette as she takes your order. 

You order a glass of the Old Fashioned, on the rocks. A strong, yet simple drink that hits all the right notes. 

What an excellent choice. Dice didn’t take you for someone who liked the liquors. He was expecting a classic red wine, or even a martini. 

How… unpredictable you are. Just what Dice needed, to bring back the spunk and glitz the casino had lost. 

You take your drink, and you brush past the manager, not even noticing him as you make your way past the slot machines. Past the derby area. It seems you have your heart set on something that requires more than just luck. 

You take your seat at the Poker table, sipping at your cocktail with the dealer casually sliding you a hand of cards. 

You’re after what skill can bring. You’re one of the intelligent ones. 

You certainly know the way right to King Dice’s heart. And now, he’s just GOTTA  have you.  

He watches you. Intently. From a distance, at first. He doesn’t want to scare you away from intimidation, but in all honesty, the looks you cast his way tell him that scaring you should be the least of his worries. 

Those looks also let him know that you know he has his eyes on you. You know you’ve fallen into his spotlight. But unlike the others, you aren’t pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. No… you have other things on your mind. 

Like the poker game in front of you. You’re so concentrated and determined; you know damn well what you’re doing. Dice can see it in your eyes, from his position at the bar. 

You’ve got a good poker face, but those beautiful eyes of yours are very telling. You think you’re about to win big. And goodness, when you glance up from your hand and cast him a suspicious look from your seat? 

He’s gotta get your name. He needs to know just who you are. To let you slip between his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life.  

While you’re focused on your cards, Dice slowly makes his way over to your table, momentarily looking over the other players. ‘Watching for cheating,’ so to speak. Then, he steps behind you, smirking delightedly as he gets a peek at your hand. 

Looks like you’ve got yourself a straight. Not a terrible hand, but there certainly are better hands out there. But it doesn’t look like you’re making any moves for replacement cards. And, your bet seems to be rather high. 

Dice wonders if you’ve got little faith in your fellow players, or if you’ve just never played the game before. Maybe if he offers a bit of advice, he’ll be able to make you melt, just as he had with all the others who played hard to get. 

“You sure you wanna keep these cards, dear?” The die whispers sweetly, fondly. “It looks like you’ve got a rather low hand, with a high bet.” 

To Dice’s surprise, you let out a soft chuckle, leaning over and whispering right back, “thank you for your input, sir. But I’m quite alright. It seems that you may need to look into buying some glasses, though…” 

Ohhh, ouch. What a blow to Dice’s ego. He can’t believe you had the gall to speak to him in such a manner, all for trying to give you a little tip. While he’d usually go after those who speak like that, he just loves your attitude. It drives him nuts. 

He’s gotta see where this goes. What exactly drove you to refuse his advice? What kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve? 

The dealer calls for the players’ hands. You confidently set your cards down, the other players groaning softly in defeat, as the winnings are pushed towards you. Confused, Dice takes another glance at your cards, and his stomach does a somersault at the sight. 

A straight flush. All spades.

How could he have missed that?! 

Dice looks over at you, and is met with your confident eyes staring right back at him. Aw, hell, you’ve got him hooked. 

“Spades and clubs do look rather similar, don’t they?” You smirk, amusedly patting his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. It took me a little while to get used to the symbols when I first started out.” 

The manager is at a loss for words. He knows damn well the difference between a club and a spade, he’s worked these casino floors for over half his life. But how could you be so condescending, and yet… so oddly kind at the same time? And how in hell are you so good with your wit? 

He needs to introduce himself, before he loses his composure. 

“That was a very swell game indeed, my eyes must have missed the symbols… I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m—”

“Oh there’s no need for that, sir. I know exactly who you are.” You smile, calmly. Coolheaded. “The legendary King Dice of the Devil’s Casino. Anyone in the Isles who doesn’t know who you are would be a fool.” 

With his heart skipping several beats, the King quickly forms a smooth reply. 

“Well, since you seem to know so much about me, what about telling me about yourself? How about putting a personality to that pretty face of yours, doll?” 

You smirk, shaking your head and finishing off your liquor. Standing, you grab your winnings and hand him your empty glass, straightening up Dice’s bow tie for him. 

“Now, why would I talk about myself with a stranger, Dice? You of all people know the dangers of slipping out too much information.” 

“Aw, you’re hurting my heart, sugar. Not even your name? Something so simple?” 

“Hm… Alright, King of Hearts. The name’s (y/n). Don’t use it too much now, or you might just grow tired of me.” 

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Dice speechless, longing for more. Just how he had left so many others before. 

Good god. Now he understands what he’s put them through. It hurts. It hurts so damn good. There’s no way he could ever be tired of you, especially with a name like that. He needs to see you again. As much as possible.

He can’t wait for your return. And thankfully, he doesn’t need to wait for long. 

You come back again, the next day. And the day after that. And soon enough, you’ve become a regular, slipping into the mundane routine Dice had gotten so bored of. 

Except… you take away the normalcy. Every day you come by, the routine is just slightly different. 

Sure, you walk in, ignore the peepers, grab your usual cocktail and make your way to the poker table. One game. You win, every time. And then, you leave. It’s like clockwork. 

Except… the conversations you have with Dice. Those are slightly different. Every time. 

He tries to learn more about you. You shut him down, with a slight tease. You laugh as he fails to form a coherent reply. You leave, with Dice watching you. But every time you talk, you humor him just a little more. Driving him closer to what he wants.  

The more you come by, the more crazy he gets about you. He switches his tasks around on the schedules, making sure he is always available at the poker table and the bar. Just so he has an excuse to see more of you. To learn more about you.

Dammit, all you’ve given him is your name. That, along with the small details he’s picked up just from watching you, is not very much to work with. He needs more. 

He needs to take you out of this suffocating atmosphere. To bring you somewhere nice and quiet, where you can get to know each other outside of your casino affiliations. 

A date. He needs to take you on a date. 

He tries to be straight forward, at first. The next time you come by, during your usual conversation, he asks you to indulge in his fantasies, just for one night. 

“One date, darlin’. A night away from this casino’s chaos and craziness. Let me find out more about what makes those gears in your head turn.” 

“What a direct approach, King. But I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that. There’s just not a reason for me to accept your offer.” 

Your voice is smooth, confident, with a hint of teasing. But there is something that Dice catches—something you had hoped he wouldn’t. Longing. 

The man is so. Damn. Close. He just needs to figure out a way to tip you over the edge.  

You take his hand, guiding it towards your empty glass so he can take it back to the bar for cleaning. 

Even with the gloves Dice is wearing, he can feel just how soft your skin is. It’s warm. Comforting. Addicting. Good gracious, you’re driving him insane. 

He watches you leave with a spring in your step, his eyes trailing down to the casino’s glossy marble flooring. After some deep thought, the man gets an idea. And for him, it’s brilliant. 

If he’s going to grab your attention for good, he needs to catch you off guard. Like a game of cat and mouse. 

You’ve always been great on your feet—you haven’t missed a step once in the time you’ve come to the casino. Dice wonders… What if you weren’t so good one night? What if something were to cause a simple slip, and who would catch you if something like that were to happen? 

Well, there’s an easy answer to each of those questions. 

When Dice orders for Wheezy and Chips to grease certain spots on the floor during cleanup, well, the two underlings know better than to question their boss. Still, it is rather peculiar how Dice only wants part of the floor to be greased. 

But there’s a method to the King’s madness. A method that only he can really understand. And you know what? That’s alright. 

The next day, before his shift, Dice sands the bottoms of his shoes. It breaks his heart a little, these shoes are expensive, but it has to be done. How is he supposed to be your knight if he slips right along with you?

To make a damn good impression, he pulls out the finest suit he has; one he saves only for special occasions. To him, this is certainly important enough. His choice of clothing, paired with the finest cologne he has is perfect for this night. Everything is in its rightful place. 

Now, all he needs is you. 

And when you arrive, it’s the most beautiful hee ever seen you. 

You’ve got such a fantastic choice in fashion, he wonders if that’s part of your line of work. The way your hair is done is just that much more striking, and that award winning smile to top it all off? 

Goodness, Dice better not mess this up. 

You immediately notice the slipperiness of the floor as you walk over to the bar, thinking nothing of it. You’ve walked in worse things before, and you haven’t tripped. Surely, you think, you can handle some tile that’s been cleaned a little extra. 

You grab your drink of choice, and carefully make your way to your favorite table, sitting in your usual spot. Your favorite dealer looks especially handsome today, you think to yourself as your eyes linger over Dice’s looming form for longer than they should. 

The man simply chuckles warmly in response, shuffling his deck with the occasional card trick thrown in before passing out the hands. 

You call, raising the open bet with that familiar confident gleam in your eye. The one that Dice had fallen in love with all those days ago. None of the other players have that confidence. 

Looks like your skill and luck take you far, yet again. 

Your royal flush steals the show, and you’ve gotta say, that’s probably your biggest win yet. You watch in satisfaction as the chips are slid towards you, finishing off your glass and setting it off to the side. 

Well, that’s the game of the night. You stand, acknowledging Dice as you trade in your heaping pile of small chips for a few large ones, for you to keep in your pocket. The man seems more assured than usual today. 

You cast him a wink before stepping away from the table, walking off with your winning chips in your pocket. Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve forgotten all about the greased floor. 

Before you know it, your foot slips from under you, and you start to fall, bracing yourself for a harsh contact with the unforgiving tile. 

That contact never comes. 

Instead, something else catches you nearly halfway. Something soft, silky, and smelling of Caron Poivre. Oh. Oh. 

That something is King Dice himself, grinning warmly down at you, his arm behind your back, and his free hand sweetly cupping your face. 

Now, it’s his turn to tease you, after all this time. It’s his turn to catch your aching heart, as you had done to him that first day you arrived. 

“Goodness, sweetheart. I know I’ve been trying to grab your attention for a while now, but I never figured I’d have to physically sweep you off your feet. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch after all this time, because of one measly drink…” 

For once, you’re frozen. You’ve got no retort, no comeback. Nothing to say. You just… stare. You take the time to look into his eyes, and inwardly scold yourself for avoiding them all this time. They really are a pretty sight for sore eyes. 

Those pupils of his are expanded so much you’re surprised you can still see a bit of those famous bright green irises. And they are just sparkling with want. Infatuation. 

You can’t look for long. Otherwise, you just might never be able to stop. Finally, you try to form some type of response, so he doesn’t have to stand there and hold you inches from the ground forever. 

“I… well, I just…” 

“What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?” 

Dammit, he’s gotten good at this. He looks at you so expectantly, waiting for a response, but with that strikingly handsome face? You’ve lost the words you had been trying desperately to gather up. 

He’s got you, after all this time telling yourself you wouldn’t fall for his trap. He’s got you good. 

“I… t-thank you, King…” 

He chuckles warmly, sending a few butterflies right into your stomach. 

“Don’t mention it, baby. I’d never blame you for slipping on these floors—the grease is always hard to walk over. It’s caught me a few times before, even.” 

Slowly, he helps you stand on your feet once again, and you brush yourself off, not making any move to leave. Not anymore. You’ve gotten so hooked, your caution has been thrown out the window. 

“I guess I owe you a drink, for saving my life like that.” 

Dice laughs. And fuck, it’s beautiful. It’s loud, deep, and so so powerful. It takes everything in you not to lock your lips onto his right there. Fuck. 

He’s hooked you tighter than anyone else he’s ever had. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that. It’s on me, doll. But only on one condition.” 

“And what would that be, King?” 

“You let me take you out to The Ritz for dinner.”  

Damn him. Damn that no-good, rotten, sleazy casino manager, always making deals. Tempting deals that are hard to say no to. 

Aw, hell. What’s the point in life if you don’t take any risks once in a while? 

“Alright, lover boy. I’ll indulge you with that date. Now come on, an Old Fashioned seems to be calling my name over at the bar.” 

That deal turned out to be the best decision of your life. 

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (SHOW)

If there’s anything a master of ceremonies like King Dice loves most, it’s attention. Power. Influence. Money. Especially money. What else is supposed to pay for his high maintenance lifestyle? The term “money doesn’t buy happiness” is utter bullshit to the star. 

And boy, does Dice get what he wants. All the time. The spoiled Devil’s lackey NEVER hears the word no. It’s really not in his vocabulary. If the King says jump, the servants say “how high, sir?” If he says bow, his fans are on their knees. Some even kneel down before he can finish the word. 

A beautiful penthouse separated from the rest of the “common folk” of Inkwell. The top show on the radio, that plays for hours, every single day the channels run. An adoring and loyal audience, who would do absolutely anything he would ask of them. 

The finest clothes money can buy. Five star meals from only the most expensive and high end restaurants. Endless jewels and other expensive trinkets to keep the showman happy. A simple card butler at every door, and several laying out his carpet. His own limo, and driver. Staff that take care of the home duties while he relaxes. 

Really, how could you get any more fulfilled than that? 

Well, King Dice could certainly tell you how.

Everything he has is fantastic, and he wouldn’t trade any of it away, sure. That’s a given. He does love his extravagant life he’s signed a contract to. However, after so many days, weeks, months, years of doing the same damn thing, over and over again, things start to get pretty old. Pretty fast. 

And sure, the parties, acting/musical gigs, and other various events of celebrities do bring about the variety to spice up the day, but even so, something is still missing. 

Of course, being the fantastic actor Dice is, he’s learned to hide his boredom when on the air, or in front of an audience in general. He’s learned to lie, very easily. Though, that may just be part of his nature. Dice has always been a good liar. 

But god, he needs some change to his luxurious yet excruciatingly boring life. Something to keep his attention.

Thankfully, his prayers start to get answered.

Dice’s audience switches up in terms of people and their seating arrangement, every night. The variety helps bring some newness to his beloved show, when things start to get a little too dry and repetitive. 

However… Recently, there’s been one person who’s started showing up to the show every night. In the same exact seat, without fail. Always the first one to arrive, and the last to leave. 

You. 

But although you are there the longest, loyally sitting in your seat with all the others, you aren’t as overly enthusiastic as the rest of his fans. 

No… it’s like you’re watching a movie by yourself. You sit, silently, with a small smile on your face. It’s oddly comforting to the star, seeing you watching him intently. Not making a damn scene, like the other folks who just can’t get enough of him. 

You’re there for the after-show, when Dice is surrounded by his overly excited fans, BEGGING him for autographs and pictures from the press. But you don’t smother him. You simply watch behind the crowd, with that damn smile on your face. 

You’re the final one there, but before he can offer an autograph or even just a chat, you’re walking off. It confuses him. You confuse him so much. 

Why on earth would you stay so long and then just leave, without saying anything? Are you shy? No, you don’t seem like the shy type. Your smile isn’t from being flustered. You smile warmly. Boldly. Like you simply stick around to watch Dice for entertainment, and nothing more. 

The man watches you leave, staying in place until you turn a corner, disappearing into the night. He stands, contemplates for a few moments, before heading inside his waiting limo, his mind still trying to wrap around you. To understand you. 

Night after night. Every single show. You’ve become part of Dice’s daily customs, except he never gets bored. In fact, the more you show up, the more interested he gets. 

The outfits you wear get prettier and prettier to him. That smile of yours starts to make him blush, right there on that stage. You start causing him to fumble a little, each time you catch his glance. Good lord, what are you doing to him?

No, there’s no question. Dice knows exactly what he’s feeling, but he’s too conflicted to admit his feelings. Dammit, he’s in love. 

He’s in love with someone he hasn’t even properly met. 

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair, how you know so much about him, and yet, he knows absolutely nothing about you. And you don’t even give him the chance to learn. You leave before he can say anything. 

After a while, Dice can’t help but follow from a distance. Nothing too crazy, he’s no creep, but he just wants to see just where you end up every evening. The route you turn on doesn’t typically lead to any residences, so you’re not going home. 

Dice discovers that you head to the nearby bar every night. The building is just a few doors down from the studio, really not a far walk at all. It’s where he finds you every night as he rides by slowly. He’s caught bits and pieces of you sitting at a stool by the counter, sipping away at whatever drink you fancy. 

That’s the one thing he’s got on you. You like having a drink after his shows. Nothing super telling, but interesting nonetheless. 

And with interest comes determination. Dice needs to find out more about you. He needs to hear your voice. Get your name. Anything. 

You’re like a parasite that Dice welcomes with open arms. You latch onto his brain, taking complete control over his thoughts. The game show host is more distracted during his performances, only showing emphasis and charisma because he knows you’re there. In fact, he’s more passionate about what he does, as long as it keeps your attention. 

Every laugh he coaxes out of you when he says something witty and funny. Every clap you give him after he finishes with his introduction and his signature exit. Every lingering stare, where you both lock eyes with each other. You’ve got beautiful eyes, shining with wonder and energy. He could get lost in them, if he didn’t have a show to run. 

All of these things drive him to do his job well. As long as he keeps you of all people happy and entertained, well, that’s now enough for him. All he needs now, is who exactly you are.

Another signing session after his show. He runs through each paper quickly, honestly just trying to get everyone out of his hair fast enough to keep you still. His eyes search for you the entire time, barely even paying attention to his audience. He doesn’t care about them. 

Just you. 

They finally start to dissipate, and Dice finally catches your eyes again. Just as you’re starting to leave. Before you can get too far, this time, a gloved hand grabs your wrist. 

“Wait-!” 

You pause, your head turning back to the host who’s staring at you with unusual kindness, it almost breaks you. Almost. 

“I… sweetheart, you’ve always been the last to leave, but you’ve never even said a word. You haven’t asked for a single autograph or photo. So tell me, why? Come now, just tell me a little about yourself.” 

The look he gives you is so entrancing, you’re so close to caving in. You can tell he’s trying so hard, you’ve seen it since the beginning. As soon as he saw you. 

But of course, you’re not stupid. King Dice is a showman at heart, and there’s nothing he loves more than his career. Some random, quiet fan wouldn’t change that at all. 

“Sorry, sir, but I know your type. It’d be dangerous to say too much, and I don’t want to take any chances.” 

You smile, taking his hand tenderly, and giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it from your wrist. 

“But I will say, you’ve got quite the gig going on here. You’ve caught my interest, that’s for sure.” 

And with that, you walk away, just as you have every night. Leaving the star to watch you disappear, wishing he had more. Leaving him with more questions than answers. Leaving him to his thoughts, which are riddled with your face. Your eyes. Your voice. 

It was the first time Dice had heard you speak, and god, the sound is heavenly to him. It’s a shame you left so soon, before he even got the chance to hear more from you. 

To the limo he walks, allowing his driver to take him home. He’s glued to the window, his eyes scanning the bar for your presence as the limo slowly makes its way through the busy streets. And there you are, in your usual seat, swirling a glass of your favorite drink. The view only lasts a few seconds, but those moments are precious. 

What he wouldn’t give to be beside you, sharing a bottle of rosé wine, lamenting to you about just how hard it is to keep up a professional appearance all the time. How he sometimes feels jealous of you, someone normal, someone who never has to pretend. 

Laughing with you. Joking around, and sharing stories from all of Dice’s career adventures. Hearing stories from you, about how you spend your time outside of coming to the show. Slowly scooting closer to one another, glasses in hand, your drinks clinging together in a toast. A toast to normalcy and good fortune. 

A toast to love. 

Hell, if you’d let him, maybe he’d even kiss you. How beautiful would that be, to taste the alcohol on your lips? To share a beloved connection with someone who seems to care about him? 

Dammit, Dice’s feelings have reached a crazy degree. He can’t deny it to himself anymore, he needs you. You’re the piece that he’s been missing in his life. Maybe, with you, he’d finally have that sense of wholeness again. 

The entire drive home, Dice thinks. Thinks of how to sweep you off your feet. How to get you to return his affection. What he can do to make his dreams come to reality. 

A solution is a lot harder than he thought it would be. For the first time in a while, Dice is stumped. 

You never leave his head, even when he falls asleep that night. You haunt his dreams. 

The routine is the same, the next time you show up to his performance. You watch him host with a warm smile on your face. He meets you out front, after the rest of his fans have been taken care of. You move to leave, and he grabs your hand yet again, striking up another conversation. 

“C’mon, doll, don’t leave me hanging like this. I don’t know how much more I can take. You know so much about me already, but what about you? Give me something to work with, here.” 

You laugh softly at his insistence, and Dice isn’t sure he’s heard a more beautiful sound in his life. You’re more intoxicating than even the strongest whiskey he stores in his mini bar.

You take his hand like you had before, but this time, your touch lingers ever so slightly. 

“I’m not sure what a brilliant showman like yourself is doing, trying to learn about someone like me. I’m really not all that special, sir.

Dice shakes his head, gently squeezing your hand, savoring the softness of your skin. The electrifying warmth you send through his hand, up his arm, right into his heart. 

“There’s gotta be more to yourself than you’re letting on, I see it in your eyes. Humor me a little, here. At least put a name to that beautiful face of yours.” 

You smile softly, turning towards him completely. Cocking your head to your side, you look at him in amused confusion, letting him continue holding your hand. 

“It seems like you’ve got your heart caught up in a tussle, King Dice. Alright, I’ll give you my name, if you can answer this for me: why me, out of all these people? You’ve got fans who would bend over backwards to make you their groom, why have your heart out for the quiet observer?” 

“I…you just interest me, is all. You’re different. Much different. You have that aura of mystery surrounding you, and I want to break it away. Now please, darling, your name?” 

You smirk at his answer, kindly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles before letting go of his hand, turning away once again. 

“You’re getting closer, sir. But you’re not quite there yet.” 

With a soft laugh, you walk away. Again. Dammit, you’re making this so difficult, the suspense is driving Dice mad. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he walks to his limo as usual, climbing inside. He stares at the hand you had held, intently, wondering just how he’s supposed to get you to crack. 

The slow approach just isn’t working. Dice needs to be bolder. He needs to catch you when you least expect it… 

He’s never accompanied you to the bar before. He’s always just watched you go, debating on whether or not he should. Well, now, he’s made up his mind. 

This has to work. 

That night was the last show of the week, giving Dice a day off in between. Normally, he finds joy in his time away from everyone else, using up his chance to have some alone time. But now? All it does is fuel his impatience. That day is the longest he’s ever had, with half of it consisting of clock-watching alone. 

Finally, Monday comes. Dice is back in business. And today, he’s going to pull off a trick that will surely catch you. It has to. The showman is on his last leg. 

His staff have never seen him practice so hard during rehearsal. Dice runs through the motions over and over again, even when he’s got the routine nailed down perfectly. 

Makeup is the same way. Applying the eyeshadow and mascara. Removing it when it appears to be too cakey. Applying again, lighter this time, with a little blush for good measure. Better, but barely noticeable. Adding another layer of the purple shadow, along with fresh pigment over his pips. 

With his makeup perfect, his performance perfectly memorized, and his suit straightened, Dice has one of the best show nights he’s had in a long time. His audience notices. His band notices. He’s sure even his boss notices, way down in hell. 

You notice. And that’s what he cares about. He sees it in your eyes. That beautiful glimmer that keeps him motivated. 

And the performance isn’t even Dice’s main trick. This is going perfectly. 

Granted, due to the fantastic night, Dice was kept back just a little longer than he’d like, greeting, signing, and smiling for photos. His cheeks are throbbing by the time he takes care of the last person. 

But this time, you wait. When you would usually be gone by this time, you decided to stay just a little longer. And Dice almost forgets his mission out of surprise. 

“You did great tonight, King.” You smile warmly, grasping his hand in yours. 

You both stand there for a little while, smiling warmly at each other, just silently enjoying the company. And then, like all the other nights, you let him go, and you leave. 

And this time, Dice is okay with that. 

Stepping into the limo, he directs his driver towards a parking spot at your favorite bar’s side door, where he won’t be noticed by the public. The last thing he wants is for the press to butt in on this moment. He needs peace for once. 

Quiet and humble, Dice walks inside the bar, immediately looking at where you usually sit. A lonely stool, in front of the bar counter. Surrounded by empty seats. Perfect. 

You swirl your glass of scotch in your hand, eyeing the drink as you contemplate to yourself. You wonder if you should let go of your danger sense, and take the risk. 

Should you give him your name the next time you see him? Should you let him show you a different side to his charismatic persona? A side that only you would ever get to see? 

“Scotch, hm? An interesting drink of choice, but I think it fits you. You’ve got the strong boldness that comes in the drink.” 

Looks like you’ve got a choice to make. 

You look over to the side, smiling fondly when you see the very same showman you had just walked away from, sitting beside you as the bartender whips up his drink. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I never took you for someone who goes to the bar, King Dice… you seem more of the type to have the servants make your drinks.” 

The man laughs as his martini glass is slid his way, picking it up and carefully swirling its contents. You really do have such a way with words.

“Don’t be fooled, that’s usually how I take my alcohol. But the bar does offer something that I don’t have at home.” 

The man looks back up at you, slowly leaning forward, wanting to get lost in your shining eyes. 

“It gets pretty lonely without someone to share the alcohol with, doll. But here? Well…” 

You ignore the heated feeling in your cheeks, taking a drink from your whiskey, watching him closely. 

“Well what, sir?” 

“Why not try a drink in a place where there’s a little company? Some good-looking company, to boot. You seem to like it here very much—I see you sitting here with a drink in your hand every time my limo passes by the bar.”

It’s your turn to laugh now, as you take another sip of your drink. Alright, he’s got your heart’s attention and you know it. It wouldn’t take much more than a little nudge from him, and your shell would be broken. 

“I don’t know if it’s very safe for me to share a drink with a complete stranger, handsome as he may be.” 

Dice smiles, his hand reaching forward and tilting your chin upwards, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. He also gives you a chance to examine his facial features up close, and boy, he’s even better looking than your view from your seat in his audience. 

“Well then, let’s stop being strangers, shall we? I know I ask you this every night, but this is the last time I’ll try. What’s your name, gorgeous?” 

You chuckle softly to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you tip back, finishing off the last of your scotch, letting an ice cube fall into your mouth. You let it melt on your tongue slightly, swirling it around in your mouth as you contemplate your answer. He has been waiting very patiently for—! 

Every thought in your mind comes to a halt as a soft, sweet pair of lips takes over your own, an arm wrapping around your side to bring you closer. You blink in shock, eyes wide as you stare at the one responsible for the sudden gesture. 

It’s King Dice. And he’s kissing you. 

Slowly, you set down your empty glass, cautiously leaning forward, accepting the affection. You know he had been working hard to earn your love, but if you’re honest with yourself, he has already had it since the beginning. It just took him a while to unlock it. 

His tongue slides into your mouth, finding the ice cube you had been sucking on, and swiping it from you so quickly you barely even notice it’s missing by the time he pulls away. 

He smirks down at you, the ice resting against his cheek as he laughs quietly at your speechlessness. 

“Your name, doll. What is it?” 

Completely enraptured, you finally utter out the word that Dice had been dying to hear ever since your first conversation with one another. 

“(Y/n)… my name is (y/n).” 

With a victorious grin and a raise of his glass, Dice happily responds to your lovestruck mumble. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). It seems now that we are no longer strangers.” 

He taps his fingers on the counter, and the bartender slides you a brand new drink, filled to the brim.

“So, how about that drink, then?” 

You take it slowly, raising it up so it’s just underneath your slightly sore lips. You smile once again, laughing in disbelief, feeling your heart skip a beat. 

“Whatever you say, showman.” 

And from there, it’s history.

[bitbybitwrites]

For the au + trope + prompt game maybe:

12. babysitter!au + 4. meet messy + 27. “that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

But no pressure!

OK, in true fashion, this one totally got away from me. I can't even try to pass it off as a super long drabble. It's mutated into a full blown ficlet. Ooooops.

But I guess the combination got me inspired. I kind of went literal for the meet messy trope - maybe it works? 😂

Anyway, here's 1,366 words for you, @annepi-blog

******

The last thing Blaine Anderson expected that night while delivering pizzas was to meet the love of his life. 

He wasn’t expecting too much, to be honest.  Most of his shift had gone as usual.  But his final job for the evening found Blaine with his arms filled with a rather impressive food order when he knocked on the door to a swanky Upper West Side apartment building.  

“B Side Pizza,” he announced loudly, though the apartment owner should have been aware of who he was.  The imposing doorman in the lobby had called up to warn them.

The muffled sound of high-pitched shrieking, which then quickly changed to an ear-splitting loud high-pitched shrieking, assailed Blaine once the door was opened.  Behind the other side of the door was a very exhausted-looking but ridiculously handsome man.  His chestnut hair fell heavily over one eyebrow, apparently fallen out of some formerly impressive style that Blaine could kind of see the echos of.  His clothes seemed on trend but were very rumpled, and Blaine thought he could spy a small handprint in neon green paint that grazed the right hip of some extremely tight skinny jeans.  A smudge of the same paint was also on his chin.  He doubted the man was even aware.

Blaine was in trouble.  

One look at this man and Blaine was positive that he was in love.

“Thank god,” the disheveled angel said when he saw Blaine.  “Pizza is here!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Pizza!”  A group of younger voices screamed in excitement.  Apparently, the prospect of food was enough to stop the rest of the caterwauling.

The man ushered Blaine into a lavish apartment, directing  Blaine towards a kitchen that could have been plucked right out of Architectural Digest.  It was gorgeous to look at (not unlike the homeowner), but Blaine doubted it ever had any use.

“You can put everything out here.” The man waved his hand at a long marble-covered counter. Blaine nodded and began unpacking his delivery tote as he watched the man dash out into another part of the apartment and shout: 

“Barbra!”

“Joan!”

“Streisand!”

“Yes, Uncle Kurt?” A trio of childish voices replied in a sing-song fashion.

Kurt sighed loudly. “Can you please clean up your mess, wash your hands, and come sit down to dinner. . .please?” the desperation in Kurt’s voice was so very clear.

“That’s two pleases, Uncle Kurt.” 

“That’s me asking really, really, really nicely, Streisand.“ Kurt said back, a forced smile on his face, his voice sounding strained.  “I ordered dinner from your favorite place, just like your parents told me to.  Let’s get going, ok?”

Kurt returned to the room, where he promptly collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs surrounding the table and dropped his head into his folded arms.  “I am never doing this again.” Blaine could sort of make out.  Kurt’s voice was very muffled.  “Or at least not without reinforcements.”

Blaine’s eyes softened.  “Babysitting duties?” he asked.

Kurt raised his head and sighed.  “This is seriously giving me doubts about my capability to be a father in the future.

Blaine laughed at Kurt’s forlorn expression.  “I’m sorry.  I felt the same way once I started watching my brother’s kids.  Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. I promise it gets loads better.”

“Triplets.  My best friend had triplets, and I am nothing if not a pushover.” Kurt moaned.

A heartbreaking wail - or maybe it was another screech, Blaine wasn’t exactly sure, came from one of the other rooms.  Kurt’s face dropped into an expression of utter horror and disbelief as three young children came barreling into the kitchen, covered head to toe in smears of neon pink, green, and yellow paint.  One of the little girls had her hair covered in the paint, and she apparently was the one wailing the loudest.  Her eyes were screwed shut as she blindly flailed her arms, sobbing, and crashed face-first into Blaine.

“Uncle Kurt!  Streisand put paint in my hair!” The little girl continued to wail as she wrapped her arms around Blaine’s waist and buried her face into his stomach, subsequently smearing more paint all over him.

“Streisand!” Kurt cried out, whipping around to look at a not-so-apologetic 6-year-old boy who was still gripping a tube of neon pink paint.  Streisand looked almost ready to squeeze the remainder of the tube onto his other sister’s hair but second-guessed himself once he caught Kurt’s stern glare.  He dropped the tube like a hot potato and at least decided to look chagrined.

“Um, sorry, Uncle Kurt?”

Kurt continued giving the child a death glare.”That shouldn’t be a question, Streisand.  And I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

“Sorry, Barbra,” Streisand said. “Really, really sorry.  But you do look pretty with pink hair. You said you wanted pink hair.”

Barbra hiccuped loudly as she wiped her face onto Blaine’s shirt. “I like pink, but I wanted to do it myself.” Barbra then pulled back, surprised: “Wait, you’re not Uncle Kurt.”

The other little girl looked at Blaine suspiciously.  “Who are you?  Are you Uncle Kurt’s boyfriend?”

“Uncle Kurt, you’re not supposed to bring boyfriends over. Mommy said so.” Streisand said.

Kurt turned beet red, and Blaine had to smile again at the absurdity of the whole situation.  “My name is Blaine.  I’m not Uncle Kurt’s boyfriend . . .”

“Do you want to be?  Do you like Uncle Kurt?” 

‘He’s cute.  I think he should be your boyfriend, Uncle Kurt.”

“He’s ok, Uncle Kurt. But if you like him, you should make him your boyfriend.”

Kurt groaned.  “OK.  No more talking about boyfriends or my lack thereof.  This was supposed to be a nice, calm, quiet evening. ‘Why don’t we do some finger painting?’ I said.  ‘It will be fun,’ I said.  Who was I kidding?“ Kurt parroted himself from earlier in the evening and then rolled his eyes as he looked back to Blaine.  “That was a very bad idea on my part.  0/10 would not recommend.”

Blaine chuckled.  “Well, the paint is very . . it is bright and festive and fun . . and um, if you had a black light - it would glow in the dark.”

“What?!” screeched Kurt.  “Where did you get that paint, Streisand?”

“Mommy and Daddy’s room. In the table by the bed.”

“Oh god,” Kurt mumbled.  “I don’t want to think about why they have that in their bedroom.”

Blaine snickered.  “Why don’t you get the kids cleaned up? I’ll keep the food warm in the oven for you.” he tossed Kurt a charming smile.  “Consider it an extra perk of the delivery process.”

“Thank you so, so much. “ Kurt gasped as he began dragging Streisand and Joan out of the kitchen by their arms.  “Barbra, come on.  Leave Mr. Blaine alone, and let’s get this paint out of your hair.”

Barbra followed reluctantly.  “Will you still be here when we come back?” she asked Blaine.

Blaine knew what he wanted to say, but he hated to intrude on their little evening.

“I don’t know.  I think it depends on your Uncle Kurt.” Blaine confessed.

“Uncle Kurt, pleeeeeeeeease can Mr. Blaine stay?” Barbra whined.

“Yeah, can he? Uncle Kurt, can he?” Joan chimed in.

“Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.” Streisand began to chant loudly.

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “Yes, Mr. Blaine can stay.  We have to get him out of his clothes too.”

Blaine coughed and tried to suppress another laugh.  “Well, I usually get a first date before that. . .”

 Kurt sputtered and blushed again.  Blaine was beginning to find it totally adorable.   “I meant to change clothes,” Kurt tried to explain.  “Because paint . . and . . there’s a washer and dryer in the apartment . . oh and fuck  … I’m just going to go now before I say something else stupid.”

As Kurt pulled the two kids he had in hand down the hallway towards the bathroom, he could hear: “Ooooooh … you said a bad word, Uncle Kurt.”

A ton of giggling.

And then a small pink-haired covered face popped back into the kitchen doorway.

“So you’ll stay?” Barbra asked excitedly.

“I’ll stay. I promise.” Blaine told her.

Barbra squealed in joy and ran back down the hallway.

Oh yeah, Blaine was in so much trouble now.

*****

NOTE: If you haven't figured out yet, yes, these are Rachel's triplets😂

If anyone else wants to play - AU+Trope+Prompt Game.

[tobiasdrake]

Now we know the full extent of the trick. All that's left to do is nail the killer.

I love it. I'm so happy that Kanai Ward's Forever Rain got to be used as a murder weapon. I was hoping early on that it would go this direction but I wasn't expecting it.

Even if it is ridiculous, this is the best murder weapon in the game, hands down.

Also, we never found the temperature regulator that allegedly electrocuted the victim. Did the Peacekeepers whole-ass make that up? Did they invent a hypothetical device that maybe was in the room and might have shocked him?

I'm not surprised at their lack of integrity but I am a bit stunned at the brazenness of it. You can close any case as an accidental death by making up whatever evidence would need to exist in order for an accident to occur. I always call this "They fell. Onto some bullets."

But no, the Peacekeepers are seriously out here going, "Eh, maybe there were some bullets on the ground that he could have fallen on. You don't know."

By tampering with the rain gutters, of course. Fortunately, there's a talented DIY expert right here in this room.

I'm waiting for him to realize that he's penned down and try to punch his way out. At Halara. It will be hilarious.

I knew Rich Boy Haircut couldn't be trusted. That is a presentation that says, "Pick me for your next CEO! I'm good at looking business!" They say to dress for the job you want, and his outfit wants to be paid an executive salary for sitting around an office writing mission statements.

Which is basically what this marriage would be for him. Hell, he might even find a way for Tetra to accidentally herself to death too once the paperwork is signed. I wouldn't put it past him to go full Black Widower.

Sugar probably heard him doing it, which is what got her barking up a storm.

I'm not sure how you would tell the difference between rainwater and the water already in the tanks. Is it the water level that's the problem? Fishtanks are generally not kept full to the brim.

That's why he broke that one! Because he was in a panic. That makes sense.

Then the noise from frantically smashing the tanks is what set Sugar off.

She believes us. That's good. There's nowhere for Jeryn to go.

Come on, Jeryn. Throw a punch at Halara. It will be hilarious.

Sure is convenient that the murder weapon, by pure coincidence, happens to resemble Sugar's favorite kind of toy in the whole world. XD Honestly, we probably didn't need that justification. "Sugar's been digging in trash again" is explanation enough.

She's a dog. They like to find random shit to chew on.

I mean, she hated him from the beginning so she could be barking at him just for sucking. But the evidence is nonetheless pretty damning even without Sugar's questionably positive ID.

YES! DO IT! THROW A PUNCH AT HALARA! They will put you through the floor.

Aww, he has a knife. Look at that, Halara. He has a knife.

OY. NOT COOL. Yakou has some knifing of his own to do before he's ready to get knifed! You're violating the sacred stabbing order!

I don't know why they even bothered asking. XD

Holy shit, that happened fast. Yakou gives the go-ahead and their leading distraction-coin is in the air nanoseconds later.

Halara is so goddamn cool.

A few weeks later, he's dead feral in the Restricted Area, and everyone else is packing their bags and closing up shop for good.

But it's a nice sentiment, at least. Besides, I'm sure she'll have more pressing concerns by that point. The important thing is, Halara crushed this mystery with style.

[valeriianz]

10 fandoms / 10 characters / 10 tags

tagged by @virgo-dream and @seiya-starsniper, thank you! this took me a while... the way my hyperfixations work is, i'll completely devote myself to a piece of media for a time... then once i find something else i move on almost entirely lol. i of course still have a very soft spot for the shows/video games listed here (as well as my blorbos, such as they are) but the only fandom im currently active in is, of course, Sandman.

1: Levi Ackerman - Attack on Titan

I am in a love/hate relationship with AoT lmao (and some day i WILL finish the final season) but nothing, not even fandom war, will ever change my love for Levi. I'm obsessed with his backstory, how he came into the Survey Corps, and how it all sheds light on the decisions he makes and the tragedies he suffered through. I was fascinated by him since S1 and after the No Regrets manga came out, I was done for. He has been through so much and despite how cruel and unforgiving he seems, he actually has the biggest heart and-- guh I just love him. He deserves the world ;^;

2: Zuko - Avatar the Last Airbender

Truly was torn between Zuko or Katara... but I have always had mad respect for Zuko's redemption arc and how brilliantly it was written. I love how it takes a full season and a half for him to have this war within himself, that he makes the right decision but then regresses... before literally becoming sick with indecision and change. And then he finally proves his worth and becomes the most loyal friend and a perfect leader to rebuild a broken society. I'm a sucker for good character stories, and Zuko's arc in ATLA is my hands down favorite ever.

3: Roxas - Kingdom Hearts

God I just love tragic male characters, huh? lmao. This one is a no brainer to me. Roxas is the OG blorbo. I fell in love with him at the tender age of 17 and have never looked back. He is kind and loyal but also a feral gremlin. He is so goofy but sad and god dammit, I love his voice and his baby blue eyes. Also this line, "This could have been the other way around." *shakes fist* MY BOY!

4: Faye Valentine - Cowboy Bebop

We love complex characters in this house! Faye has all the traits of a character I usually wouldn't vibe with: she's arrogant (without much to back it up lol), lazy, and is susceptible to addictions. But oooh do I love a character who uses negative traits to hide how emotionally vulnerable they are. Faye appears strong, mean, and confident to a fault, but inside she craves companionship and is incredibly lonely (despite her lone wolf tendencies). Rewatching the show as an adult, I found Faye and I have a lot in common lol. She needs a hug.

5: Hob Gadling - The Sandman

Do I really need to say anything? lol I love that Hob is the fandom's plaything; molding and shaping him and writing him in all sorts of different ways... but I do adore his canon character. He is brash, stubborn, at times cruel and violent... but then immeasurably kind, loyal, and forgiving. He takes on immortality in unexpected ways. he thrives, he suffers, he works, he regresses, he makes mistakes, he learns from them, he changes... he is THE human experience.

6: Daenerys Targaryen - Game of Thrones

Robbed. Robbed. Absolutely robbed. The writers did Daenerys so dirty, I refuse to accept the final 3 seasons of GOT as canon lmao. (and here's another thing: I would totally accept her spiral into "madness" if it had been handled seriously. If the writers didn't just pull this out of their ass and instead thoughtfully worked in justifiable reasoning for her to go crazy). I'm 100% a stan and there's actually nothing you can say that will change my mind :)

7: Cal Kestis - Star Wars, Jedi: Fallen Order

My SON. My BOY! I have the adoption papers ready.

8: Tifa Lockhart - Final Fantasy VII

Another OG blorbo lmao. She's been with me since I was a teenager (also I always shipped her with Cloud, not Aerith. I do however ship Aerith and Zack... the latter whom almost made this list. Anyway-). Tifa is the badass motherfucker with a heart of gold. She is insanely loyal and truly the wisest of the bunch.

9: Mickey Milkovich - Shameless

ANOTHER BROKEN CHARACTER WHO GOES THROUGH EXTREME DEVELOPMENT? Can anyone sense a pattern?? This motherfuckerrrr *shakes Mikey and slaps him in the face and sobs* God I love it when a seemingly irredeemable character goes THROUGH IT and comes out shining a new, yet somehow the same old, sarcastic bitch.

(Also please note that Lip Gallagher almost made this list. Another shining example of the writers doing his character the WORST injustice just to keep him on the show. He should have stayed in college. He almost GOT OUT. He almost broke the chain. What he did was not in line with his character and I will stay mad about it).

10: Cesare Borgia - The Borgias

THIS. GUY! AURGH!! Arrogant, violent, sexy bastard. You piece of shit. Cesare actually did everything wrong, he doesn't want to be redeemed. But he is so fucking charismatic and I love that he uses it to his advantage. He's so fucking smart and quick on his feet. He's SUCH an asset on the battlefield. And he LOVES his family! He will kill a bitch with his bare hands if they dare insult his mother or sister. I love that he grumbles when given advice from literally anyone that isn't his most trusted friend, bodyguard, and assassin, Micheletto. Doesn't even flinch when he discovers Micheletto is gay, actually teases him for being a momma's boy, and genuinely grieves for his loss when he flees. He says out loud how he misses him and actually begins to doubt himself without Micheletto there to counsel him. Cesare is everything to me, actually.

tagging, no pressure!: @rainy-days-and-nights @the-cloudy-dreamer @kemurai6-dominion-of-dust @ferelden-loser @teejaystumbles @tj-dragonblade @hardly-an-escape @sutoribenda @quillingwords @mathomhouse-e

[milogreer]

DA PIZZA GUYYY (for the send me a character game)

Anonymous asked: guy 🍕

THE ONE AND ONLYYY ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: i actually accidentally skipped the confession audio in chronological order so my first guy audio was “unwinding after a long day” and, like… i was conflicted. i thought he was A LOT. really funny, but a lot. i didn’t hate him but i also probably would’ve been fine without another audio. back to back with that one was “tries helping you sleep” which was still like.. hmm… puzzling feelings out…. and by the end of it when he made a suite life of zack and cody reference i wanted to push him around. so i think i liked him, but it wasn’t anything super serious

My impression now: jesus fucking christ. so like four days after those two ^ i had gone back to the confession audio bc i realized i’d skipped it. i can pinpoint the exact moment i passed the point of no return with guy and it’s at 1:58 when he says “and you know how i feel about a slot, ehh~ 🤪” because i tweeted it with the caption “i do quite like him… kind of annoying” LMFAO this one really brought a lot of character to honey and basically every line was like he was talking about me personally and it was UNREASONABLE. fell very deeply in love with him after this and even though he’s recently fallen from #3 to #5, i still love him very very much

A favorite thing: HE’S SO FUNNYYY humor is the number one thing i look for in people and guy has it in fuckin spades. speaking in references and quotes is something i’m very familiar with so it always makes me giggle when i recognize one 🤭 and his silly little “unhh 🤪” noise after he makes a dirty comment gets me too hehe, i catch myself doing it irl sometimes now 

Least favorite thing: please for the love of god i need him to talk about his creative writing degree. i want to know his favorite genres and i want to hear about his works in progress!! like i’m fine with guy being a less developed character with little to no angst but his degree is established in the timeline and definitely comes through in the way he talks sometimes, so let us have more of that!! i wanna knowww

Favorite interaction they have with another: WHEN HONEY LEAVES HIM SPEECHLESS IN THE CONFESSION AUDIO. obviously the cameos in gavin and asher audios are really good but ohhh my goddd when a yapper is left speechless by a kiss >>> honey’s surprise kisses are everything to me bc they seem very put together and always thinking two steps ahead so when they’re impulsive and it throws guy off his game i go CRAZY

A character that I wish they would interact with more: everyone talks about david/guy bc of david and honey being so similar but what about asher/guy, huh!! what about THAT trainwreck! they would set the building on fire within the hour. 

A headcanon: he is definitely lactose intolerant but he refuses to let it get in the way of the joys of life (pizza and ice cream). he’s also been practicing his signature since he started college for when (not if!) he becomes a best-selling author

A song: who i’m singing to by bug hunter !! i love bug hunter 💕 his stream of consciousness is just sooo guy

An unpopular opinion: while i do want more character development/lore when it comes to guy and honey, i don’t really want any angst out of them … at least not, like. wrt their relationship or major life events or whatever. if honey’s had a bad day at work or is feeling self-conscious or if guy tanks a pitch or he’s struggling with writer’s block then that kinda thing is fine, but i don’t want heavy angst 🫠

[sanakotsu]

Romantic? Date Translation

Quantified Feelings of Love and Hate/Chapter 4

Writer: Akira Season: Winter Characters: Tetora, Arashi, Tatsumi, HiMERU

Translation: Sankotsu Proofread: @boozuru

HiMERU: (Seriously what is this? A hallucination? Surely not. It looks scarily too real to be fake...)

〈The next day. HiMERU’s dorm room〉

HiMERU: (In the end, we ran out of time yesterday and still couldn’t get an okay take.)

(ALKALOID, still being pushed forward by ES, has to attend to another job. Tatsumi had to go there instead.)

(Despite Crazy:B being left with spare time, HiMERU does not want the others to know that he couldn’t finish his job and had to stay behind to continue experimenting.) 

(HiMERU could tolerate all of Amagi’s teasing but he could never deal with the thought of Shiina and Oukawa treating him like a helpless toddler.)

(Because of this, HiMERU ended up using the SSVRS headset to play Love★Star all day yesterday.) 

(He had to play it in order to figure out what kind of game Love★Star was. By doing this, he can get a rough estimate of what the producers want to see from him.)

(He needs to figure out the producers’ “right answer” and grasp it.)

(To have male idols HiMERU knows flirt with him endlessly is nothing but pure agony.)

(HiMERU will just think of this as a necessary hardship he must endure in order to maintain his image of the “perfect idol.”)

Tetora: HiMERU-san. HiMERU-san!

It’s morning~! You gotta get up or else you’re gonna be late for school!

Actually, hold on. HiMERU-san, you don’t go to school, do you?

Arashi: It’s hopeless, don’t wake him up like that, Tetora-kun. HiMERU-chan was messing with something late into the night so let him rest a bit.

Tetora: Ah, now that you mention it, it’s like you could hear HiMERU-san monologuing to himself in bed. I’m starting to get a little worried too on whether or not the guy’s getting enough sleep.

Arashi: Surprisingly, you’re the kind of guy to get worried about stuff like that, Tetora-kun. Seems like you’re the nervous type.

Tetora: Yessir. I’m kinda jealous of you though, Narukami-senpai. You’re always doing things at your own pace.

Arashi: Oh, are you implying that I’m inconsiderate? Well, I was in such a deep sleep anyway.

HiMERU: …Good morning to the both of you.

Arashi: Oh, you finally got up.

Tetora: Sorry for waking you! It’s fine if you head back to bed~ We already got ready and we’re heading out soon!

HiMERU: ⸺I was wondering why I could hear everyone’s voices but couldn’t see anyone. It seems as though I had fallen asleep with the SSVRS headset on. 

I was playing Love★Star in bed and fell asleep. It was an accident.

Tetora: Love★Star?

Arashi: Ah~ It’s that popular game. I don’t like it because of how they changed my character to be different from me.

Tetora: Umyuu. I kinda guessed you wouldn’t like seeing yourself fall in love with women.

Arashi: Well since it’s only a game, I won’t let it bother me since I know the difference between what is and isn’t real considering there’s no correlation to real people anyway.

HiMERU: …

Arashi: ? What’s wrong, HiMERU-chan? You’re staring… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make anyone feel bad for liking Love★Star.

Or rather, no. I don’t want to make you feel bad for liking it.

It’s not the first time I’ve been treated like an ikemen idol.*

HiMERU: Actually, HiMERU wasn’t playing Love★Star because he liked it. It was because⸺

Huh?

Arashi: ...?

【Arashi Narukami / Relationship: Acquaintance / Status: Moody / Friendship points: 22】

HiMERU: Narukami-san, what is that mysterious display of text above your head?

Arashi: Display of text? What do you mean?

Tetora: ? What d’ya mean? There’s nothing above her head though, HiMERU-san.

【Tetora Nagumo / Relationship: Acquaintance / Status: Unwell (Sleep deprived) / Friendship points: 34】

HiMERU: …? The same thing is above your head as well, Nagumo.

Tetora: …? …? There really isn’t anything there though?

Arashi: Oh dear, surely you’re still half asleep, aren’t you, HiMERU-chan? Maybe some more sleep would help.

HiMERU: But I truly do see it. There’s a string of text with something about friendship points above both of your heads.

Arashi: ? If you’re trying to make a joke, I don’t get how it’s supposed to be funny.

【Arashi Narukami / ↓↓ Friendship points decreased ↓↓】

HiMERU: ...?

(Seriously what is this? A hallucination? Surely not. It looks scarily too real to be fake…)

Tatsumi: Pardon me, is HiMERU-san here?

Tetora: Hm? A guest? Um, you’re Tatsumi Kazehaya from ALKALOID, right?

Tatsumi: That’s right. I apologize for barging in so early. Good morning. 

Arashi: Good morning~♪ HiMERU-chan is here, but for some reason he’s acting a bit weird. I can’t help but worry for him, y’know?

Kazehaya-senpai, do you know anything? Wasn’t HiMERU-chan and ALKALOID working together yesterday?

Tatsumi: Yes, I was going to talk to HiMERU-san about it.

HiMERU: …

Tatsumi: Ah, HiMERU-san! Good morning! Fufu, it seems like you really did just wake up…♪

HiMERU-san is always so proper and perfect that it’s nice to see you in such a dazed state.

【Tatsumi Kazehaya / Relationship: Close friends / Status: Happy / Friendship points: 89】

HiMERU: ⸺HiMERU doesn’t understand why and it’s incredibly unpleasant!

Tatsumi: Huh?! I-I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to insult you…?

【Tatsumi Kazehaya / ↓↓ Friendship points decreased ↓↓】

HiMERU: (What is this? What on earth is happening? Has the world become strange or have “I” gone insane?)

❀ ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎ ❀

ive had these chapters tl-ed for like over a year but i forgot to post it until I saw engstars do a stupid. whoopsie!

*: Ikemen meaning handsome man. She's most likely referring to falling in love with woman AS a "handsome man" idol that she takes issue with.

➸ previous ❀ all ❀ next ❀

[itsjustthechems]

Excerpt from the fic I'm working on about Deacon's origin story (spoilers!)

If you haven't reached max affinity with Deacon, this post contains spoilers about his final affinity dialogue.

This fic is going to cover his time as a gang member in the University Point Deathclaws, meeting and falling in love with Barbara (who I've decided is a caravan trader), avenging her murder, and finding his place in the Railroad. Later chapters will include his escapades with my fem!Sole Survivor OC, Georgie. Or maybe I'll just post drabbles and random chapters out of order, lol. Who knows. Anyway, enjoy this little excerpt, and let me know if anyone would be interested in reading more.

Context for this scene: Deacon is about 20 here - nearly two decades before the events of the game. Keep in mind that he is young, stupid, and brutal with ass-backwards views at this point in his life. He was sent on a dangerous solo mission to purloin munition from a poorly-manned Gunner stash in Jamaica Plain (a careless decision by the reckless leader of the Deathclaws), and Barbara's trading partner has fallen ill, leaving her to manage business on her own. He encounters her being harassed by a chem addict shaking her down for a fix, and the encounter turns violent. Afterwards, since night has fallen, they hole up together in an empty house, eager to avoid any further conflict until sunrise.

------

“Hey.” Barbara’s voice was soft and tentative, an abrupt change from the goofy timbre of her storytelling.

“Howdy.”

“Thank you for…not killing that guy earlier. He would have had it coming to him, but I’m glad you let him live.”

Deacon froze. That guy didn’t bite it? That was news. She must have seen him still breathing before they fled the scene. “Anytime, toots. For you, I’d let a thousand slimy crooks live.”

The air fell silent and somber, and he hoped to Atom that his feigned flirtatiousness didn’t set her off. He tried to be clearly ingenuine when he made those jokes to her. The fact that she was alone, vulnerable, and holed up with, well, a slimy crook wasn’t lost on him. He knew the sort of fear and disgust he probably instilled in her. Much to his relief, she gave a quiet snort and let it slide.

“I’m serious, though. I want you to know that it doesn’t go unnoticed when you do the right thing. You’ve been cleaning up your act lately and I…I like it.” Her usual eloquence was clearly stunted by the liquor, bashful awkwardness on full display for his enjoyment. Boy, did he enjoy it.

“Yeah?” He egged her on with a chuckle, hoping she’d keep rambling. Preferably about him. If all it took to earn a little attention from her was not swiping from other traders in front of her - which was clearly the new habit she was referring to, then he’d gladly take the threats and glares it earned him for coming back to camp empty-handed. So what if it made him look soft? He wasn’t soft! Or maybe she was talking about that time he’d thrown a kid a few caps to buy an issue of Grognak the Barbarian off her...uh oh.

“Yeah.” Her cheeks burned pink as she studied the floor like she was going to be quizzed on it later. “Knowing you, it’s probably some kind of elaborate prank that you’re pulling on me, but I hope that isn’t the case. Integrity looks good on you.”

“Thanks, I suppose, but I’m unfamiliar with this ‘integrity’ you speak of. Is it French?”

Barbara groaned, the couch creaking in protest as she fell against the back of it, looking dramatically defeated. He took that as encouragement to continue, his grin wide and shit-eating.

“Besides, everything looks good on me. As a matter of fact, you should see me in my birthday suit.”

He watched smugly as she tilted her head back up to fix him with a glare, though it lacked any malevolence. The glare was brief and gave way to an expression of discomfort, or perhaps anxiety.

There’s the nausea, Deacon thought. Heh. Lightweight. If he wasn’t close enough to smell the spirits on her breath, he would attribute the cause of her sudden queasiness to his jokes, but he knew she rarely drank, let alone straight liquor.

He grunted and pitched forward onto his feet to fetch her some kind of receptacle to defile instead of her own clothes and bedroll, but to his bewilderment, he was met with a hand on his chest, tipping him back to his seated position before her. Oh. She’s not sick at all.

[doctor-vertigo]

Oh speaking of Pokémon I never showed y’all my sona did I?

The art’s a tad old but this is what she looks like. She used to live in Unova but then ended up moving to Galar with her mom. In my personal fiction world she’s the Galar regional champion since she’s based off of the first character I ever played as in Pokémon. Yeah sword and shield was my first Pokémon game cause I fell in love with Kabu and saw the game in GameStop for 40 bucks.

More info about her under the read more, it’s a lot of words.

So basically she has social anxiety (as all my self inserts do) so when she first came to Galar she hardly ever left her room. So her mom decided to sign her up for the tournament in order to sorta get her out of the house and have her explore the region a bit more.

Even though she wasn’t enthused about having to do the tournament since she’s never really been all that into Pokémon battling, she went out and did it anyways so her mom wouldn’t be sad. But she didn’t want to try super hard, honestly she just wanted to get it over with since the massive crowds in the stadiums were giving her an immense amount of anxiety. However all of the eyes on her caused her to try anyways so she ended up doing really well for the first two gyms, she wanted to avoid the embarrassment of losing so early on.

Then she got to the fire gym. The battle didn’t start off in her favor at all, she did a rain dance but then panicked when her Pokémon got burned so she used a move that would remove all effects on the field. It removed the burn but it also removed the rain, whoopsie daisy. Though through some quick decision making she did end up coming out victorious, she was still immensely embarrassed about screwing up so badly, she figured that she was a laughing stock, that people would find her failure amusing. Eventually all of these emotions got to her and when she got to the locker room she sat down and started crying, and even though she tried to cry softly, someone picked up on it.

Kabu came over to congratulate her again but he could tell something was off, so he sat next to her and asked her what was wrong. After a few minutes of not being able to reply since she was so choked up, she finally explained the situation through several sobs and sniffles, now even more embarrassed since the gym leader was watching her cry like a little baby. But he understood. He showed her his rare league card, and he told her about how he once started from the bottom just like her. At one point he even dropped back down to the minor leagues after a pretty gnarly losing streak. But he told her that everyone loves an underdog story, and that it doesn’t matter if you mess up at first as long as you’re willing to put in the work needed in order to rise from the ashes like a ho-oh and eventually claim victory for yourself.

After his little speech, he gave her his card and told her to keep it as a reminder of what he told her. His kind, gentle eyes and his soft smile made her heart skip a beat, and she could feel her face getting increasingly flushed. When he eventually got up and headed to the elevator, she realized that she had fallen in love with this man. At first she was upset with herself for catching feelings, but she realized this would be a good motivator for her to continue to better herself. She would show both her mom and Kabu what she was capable of becoming, and she would try harder than ever to accomplish her goal of making it to the top.

I might post more about her eventually, like how she handles being the regional champion n all that, but this post is already SUPER long and I don’t think anyone wants to read like fifty more paragraphs of this self insert shipping stuff lmao.