#is possibly the winner of the entire month

[r0-boat]

He actually did it...

Whb!Asmodeus x Gn!Reader

Cw: dubcon ,Asmodeus calling himself your husband, He is a little delusional right now, Regardless of readers gender a lot of breeding and pregnancy talk so beware, primal, Not omegaverse but some terminology

Happy Destroy Dick December here's some Asmodeus appetizer for your main course of Lucifer later

Ayo!!! And Thank you too @da-shrimping-station for giving me permission to use your OC Azaruuth as a cameo!!

"Darling, when there's something I want I do everything in my power to obtain it." His words echo in your mind as you see the results of the no nut November challenge, Your eyes white and as they displayed his picture on the screen of the pub and Gehenna. Every other devil in that bar was just a shocked as you.

The only winner of The 'King only competition of No nut November' was Asmodeus, The devil of Lust, The man who couldn't keep his hand out of his pants for more than a half a second; won.... Your heart sank as the reality of your situation began to sink in.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that a few devils are staring at you—some with a look of horror, others with worry.

You knew why, you were the prize after all...

Whoever wins this challenge will have you for the entirety of December. You would be entirely unavailable for other kings. (Except for emergencies, of course) No interruptions. You would have to stay put by their side, and you would do anything they wish.

Your heart pounded as Sitri and Amy safely escorted you to Abbaddon. Satan could not attend as he was so angry he was destroying half the castle.

Sitri and Amy are trying to talk you down from going along with being the prize, telling you that it wasn't too late... too focused on the possibility of what the king of lust could do to you for a month straight. But rules were rules, and you were the one who made the contest begin. You couldn't back out just because you didn't like the winner.

Once they reached the gates of the Abbaddon Palace, one Red Prison guard stood tall, his back straight, his chin up, radiating pure discipline. What really stood out to you was his one horn, which had two tones of pink matching each color of his mismatched eye. His mouth curved into a gentle smile as those eyes gazed upon you, but that smile quickly died when he saw the two Gehenna devils standing protectively at your side.

"I'll take them from here. Your duty is done." He spoke in a polite yet cold tone. Amy and Sitri get their teeth, But they know that it is best to turn back going any further would Go against the rules, as from this moment on, you are in Abbaddon's care. They didn't even get a chance to say goodbye as the guard tucked their hair behind their ear, fixing certain parts of their shirts. "His Majesty has been waiting for you for quite a while." His seductive person shivers down your spine as he reaches his gloved hand into his pocket with only his eyes, he motions for you to reach your hand out, placing a red key into your palm.

You're not sure how you knew what he wanted.

"Follow me, dear Descendant." You gave them one last look before the palace doors begin to slowly close behind you. You smiled and wave hoping it would ease Amy and Sitri's worries.

As the disciplined guard devil guided you through the halls of the palace, the ponytail of his dark violet hair swaying from side to side. The silence and tension were killing you. You want it to speak up and make some light conversation. But every last word trying to come out of your mouth was choked by the radiating authority from this devil. You've never met him before, but you've heard that he was relatively high-ranking, Not an advisor... But very high ranking. From the way he was dressed, it was obvious what his duty was in Abbaddon.

As Asmodeus's room gets closer you finally did manage to speak up.

"Um, how has Asmo been? I-I haven't seen him since Halloween?" His head was slightly parked up, and he looked back at you. His intense eyes softened again, and he exhaled, giving you a polite yet knowing smile. "You'll see. Don't be impatient."

You couldn't help as your cheeks flushed red from the little scolding you got.

When you see the door to his room, you notice more guards, a blue-shining pentagram glowing and pulsating on the large red doors, and foreign infernal lettering flickering all around the circle. It was like they were keeping their own king prisoner.

He stopped 6 feet away from the door, letting a curious you wonder ahead of him.

"This is as far as I could go. Be good; do as you're told, and his majesty lies beyond the door. Angels and Demons cannot enter or leave... As a human, you are free to open. I think you will quite like what his majesty has prepared for you on the other side." He smiled at you as you turned around to face him. He gets closer again, this time checking the top of your head, brushing away invisible dust or lint. He couldn't help himself sneaking a little kiss on your forehead before turning around and taking his leave. You felt a little bit of heat as your cheeks were dusted pink, raising your hand too brush your fingertips against the area his lips touched.

You brush aside the devil's affection turning back to the door You pulled out the red key preparing to try to find its lock before one of the devils spoke up. "It doesn't doesn't lock Just open it." He said with a cheery smile.

An "oh..." Escaped your lips. "Thank you." You responded with an embarrassed look. You open the door to Asmodeus's private Chambers to a dark room.

The door shuts behind you before another enchantment glows this time a red color on your side, It's magical glow gives you the faintest amount of light for your eyes to adjust to. Your heart was thumping in your chest as if you were in a horror movie as you step forward here the wrestling of metal as you finally hear of familiar voice.

"come closer~" instead of his normal sly seductive tone It was more of a breathy sultry as he almost beckins you further into the dark.

Your hand was shaky as you reach into your back pocket to pull out your phone turning on the flashlight as you take a step forward, and then another until your camera flash finally make something out of the darkness. A red chain attaching itself to the floor It was loose coiled in a pile as if it hadn't been disturbed for a while You followed that chain until you reached its owner.

Asmodeus, bound by several chains, red chains looking like it was made of crystal or ruby with more angelic-looking bindings keeping his arms and legs secured to him, but what stood out to you was the muzzle on his face, the wild look on his eyes, and the chastity belt that you've only seen angels wear, locked snug around him.

They really did kept him prisoner. It was so... Surreal to see hell's crippling narcissist locked up like one of the many people he kept in his prison. But this is probably what he had to do to win, keeping his arms bound to his back and his cock locked so he could never touch himself...

He'd been like this for a month.

And you never knew...

His slit pupils dilated three times their size when he saw you walk closer. He didn't even hide the fact he was drooling for you, saliva dripping from his chin past his muzzle and down to the floor as he tried to close the gap between you and him, only to be stopped by rattling chains. He snarls, hissing in frustration as you stop right in front of him, getting on your knees to eye level.

"You know what to do darling, Open me up and take your prize."

You couldn't say no or disobey since Asmodeus won the contest. The key sat on your palm. A devil king struggling against iron chains, trying all his might to break free to get to you, is doing something to your body, and Asmo was hyper-aware. His last shred of self-restraint, if he had any to begin with, one by one, began to erode. "You smell so good... It's so tight... Want to be inside you.."He thrusts his hips up when your hands draw near his crotch, the key fitting into the lock of the chastity belt.

He tilted his head back. His shaky exhale made it clear how good it felt to finally be free as his cock bobbed and twitched wildly.

"Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me!" His desperate pleas to go straight to your lines as each word becomes less of a request and more of a demand. Part of you wanted to ignore him and just unlock the rest of his bindings, but seeing the mighty king of lust beg for your touch was so rare you had to at least indulge in his request. Asmodeus tried to lean against you pulling as far as the chains could allow him wanting to bury his nose into your shoulder only to feel the cold steel of the muzzle separating the two of you.

His naked body pressed flesh against Your shirt and pants, how he longed to feel your bare skin against his But at this moment, he was not complaining, especially when he felt relief on his cock for the first time in weeks.

You are such a good pet, remembering exactly how he liked it, especially when all he can think about is breeding the first hole in front of him right now.

You kept your rhythm nice and slow despite only barely touching him. His cock was drenched with precum, His balls squeezing and twitching as his cock tried to bob in your hand. With the key in your other hand, you unlock the final two chains, locking his wrists and neck as soon as the trainer on his neck clatters to the floor. You felt a hunger so feral as his hands reached for your wrists, pinning you to the floor at a blinding speed.

Asmodeus straddles you onto the floor, the entire room filled with his aphrodisiac pheromones, sweet and addicting, now so powerful you could no longer ignore it. You couldn't control your hips wiggling in place as he grinds his hips down against you. His wet cock drooled onto your pants.

He nuzzles, or at least tries to nuzzle, into your neck, feeling the cold bars press against him instead of your warm skin. Now that his hands are free, an animalistic snarl rips through his throat. He wasted no time putting two hands on both sides of the muzzle, his chest heaving as he tore the metal and leather apart in one pull.

"mine now...wanna taste you." A long in human tongue slithers out of his mouth licking his lips as he lowers his head.

With his claws and teeth He tears apart any piece of clothing in his way. You knew Asmodeus was a little unhinged before but now he was practically a snarling beast. As much as you are terrified you were incredibly turned on right now.

His intense gaze finally softened when his eyes laid upon your naked body. "Mmh~there you are, Your husband missed you~!"

With nothing else separating you between His heavy cock and and you're very eager dripping hole to your surprise He doesn't stretch you out and fuck you against the ground, instead he mashes his body against you as tight as he could lifting your hips up to grind himself against you. You felt his hot breath against your ear as he mumbled more to himself than to you "Pretty mate, want them to smell like me..."

His tongue dragging up your collarbone before burying his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling your natural scent. Your head was spinning as your body felt hot and sensitive. Bucking your hips up to grind back against him Your breaths just as feverish is his.

His teeth grazed and nipped your skin as he presses his hips harder into you. Using His precum and your juices mixing together as he ruts his hips against yours.

"Mine!" Asmodeus growls out.

He thrusts his hips the head of his cock catching against your entrance making your back arch.

"Mine!" He growls out again .

His eyes glazed over as a hand slips between your legs preparing his cock to enter you.

"Gonna fuck you full." He muttered into your shoulder. When he slammed fully inside you, starting at a brutal pace, keeping your body pinned underneath him as he mindlessly fucked you're squeezing walls as if he needed it to survive.

Asmodeus couldn't stop his hips from moving even when he tries to manhandled you onto your stomach before taking you from behind. You felt this hot breath against the back of your neck occasionally; his teeth and tongue would taste your skin. Your legs were shaking trying to ground yourself as much as you could pushing back into him, No matter how hard you try you couldn't keep up with him as he used your body like a fuck toy.

You didn't know what to focus on the sweet scent of the aphrodisiac swirling on the room, the hard and fast slaps of his hips meeting yours, or the heavy breaths and loud moans and whimpers coming from the devil mounting you. Even with his lust drunken state, and his uncalculated animalistic thrusts. You are already close your legs shaking as your walls clamp down and milk him.

"Mate!Mate!Mate!Cumming!Cumming! Hhfa-AAAAH" His growls slur before letting out a loud whail despite orgasming the hardest heve ever done in his immortal Life He still kept his pace fucking his cum deeper.

"So good! So good! Saving up so much .for you! Hmm~All for you! I good male for you, Make sure mate...hah~ full of pups." He rambles his tongue out and panting, His eyes fully glazed over.

You've never heard him speak like this before. If it weren't for the fact that you are being fucked by the rabid beast himself, you would attempt to snap him out of it, You're not sure if you're scared or extremely horny, at the mere fact that you've broken him.

[thoughtfulfiction]

The P Word

Author’s Note: Two fics in two days?

In 2013, Joe sent a dm to a recruiting analyst for scout.com, asking which camps he should attend because he was flying under the national radar.

Most four star recruits get about 20 college offers. He had 12.

At Ohio State he sat on the bench for three years, only gaining attention as a scout team player who would later have to graduate in three years just so he could transfer and get some playing time elsewhere.

That same scout team player would become the best player in college football and a Heisman trophy winner and the number one pick in the 2020 NFL Draft. A few years after that fateful private message to Dave Burk.

Robin Burrow had been there the entire time. Through every shining moment and the times that seemed rather dark. She drove two hours to do his laundry just to make sure he was physically and mentally healthy when he lived in Columbus, has attended every game since he began playing sports, made him snickers salad when he tore his ACL…and when he tore his scapholunate ligament in his wrist. All in all, she’s been a constant presence in the midst of all of the mayhem. To be frank, there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than between him and anything that could possibly serve to harm him or cause him any pain, no matter how old he is.

That included protecting him from himself.

The last few months had been filled with joy. After the news of his engagement, the wedding planning process had been smooth. You and Robin along with your mom, had gone to several appointments together and Joe had even added his input in most of the details without you feeling like you had to twist his arm and force him to participate.

You were now in the home stretch of the most important day of your lives. Less than two months from now you’d be saying “I do” to the love of your life. And Robin had taken her role as future mother in-law very seriously. You knew that Joe was a mama’s boy, his brothers much older than him with their own mom, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was Robin’s pride and joy. But not in a creepy way that would get them to star in a TLC show. It was just very evident that she was proud of him and his achievements and that she didn’t mess around when it came down to business.

After one of your dress fittings, she pulled you aside. “There’s one quick thing I need to mention to you. You’ll be getting a formal document in the mail in the next few days. Nothing huge, just a formality that Peter and the team drafted up for you to sign. I hate the word prenup but that’s essentially what this is.” She said in a matter of fact way. “We just need to make sure to dot our i’s and cross our t’s if that makes sense. Get the boring stuff out of the way so that we can focus on showering you and Joey with our love on your special day.”

“No that makes complete sense, just send it over and I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Thank you Robin seriously, for everything. You’ve made planning this entire thing a breeze.”

She shakes her head with a genuine smile, giving you a warm hug. “This has been an honor, I’m so happy for the both of you sweetie. I’ll see you in a few days for brunch at your house? The kids are so excited they won’t stop talking about it.”

“Yes absolutely, I can’t wait either it’s been so long since we’ve gotten both families together it’ll be really fun.”

There weren’t many opportunities for your family to interact with Joe’s and vice versa, unless everyone met at a football game but that wasn’t exactly quality family bonding. That felt more like a collective screaming match where the adults pregamed with beer and the kids wore his jersey. Most of them didn’t really know what was going on in the actual game. So you and Joe were going to host both sets of parents, all of your siblings and their kids in order for everyone to really spend time together before the wedding.

A few days later, you were finalizing the menu with the catering company when Joe came home.

“It’s gonna be like Cheaper by the Dozen in here tomorrow,” he notes, grabbing a Body Armour from the fridge. “Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

“We kinda have to be. Should we do smoked salmon or shrimp crostinis?” You held up one of each and let him examine them. He snagged the salmon one first and took a bite then did the same with the shrimp.

“Definitely the salmon. What time is everyone getting here?” The catering people jot down their last notes and head out the door after you and Joe thanked them.

You could tell he was going to need time to mentally prepare in case he got overstimulated. “They’ll be here at 1pm, so you can probably get an early workout in and take a nap afterwards,” walking over to him on the other side of the counter, holding his face in your hands. “I know you get cranky when you’re tired and Uncle Joe needs to be at his best tomorrow because the kids will need a QB for their flag football game.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sticking out his lips that are begging to be kissed. You happily grant his wish, pressing your lips against his, giving him a quick smooch. He asks for a few more, about to get lost in a full make out session when a stack of papers on the counter catch his eye. Joe pulls back so abruptly that your face smacks against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he cradles your head, reaching around you to grab the piece of paper that’s on top. You take that as your cue to go after his second apology for nearly giving you a concussion. That chest is a brick wall.

The more he skims the words, the tighter his grip gets on the little sheet and the confused look on his face deepens. “Um…what is this?”

“What is what?” You give him a look that matches his energy.

He holds up the paper. “This. What is this? Where did you get it from?”

You look around the room to make sure you aren’t getting Punk’d. “Wait—are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” it wasn’t a question. He’s legitimately starting to look upset. “Who gave this to you?”

“Joe,” you let out a dry chuckle, “your mom did. Said it was a formality and that I should sign it and give it to her so she can hand it off to Peter so your lawyers can process it.” When your fiancé continues to stand there motionless in the middle of the room, that’s when it hits you. “Did—did you not know about this?”

He usually has something to say about everything, so watching him silently shake his head is a little scary. Joe places the first page of the prenuptial agreement on the table with a heavy sigh, visibly trying to compose himself. The man had the patience of a saint, known to have blow ups on the field but that was Football Joe. Off the field Joe was calm and rarely ever let things get to him. You’d probably only heard him yell twice in the entire time you’ve been together. And now he was dead quiet. You didn’t know what to do with that.

“Joe, your mom is just trying to protect you. Get this out of the way so that we can—”

“Please don’t try to defend her right now,” his tone was laced with venom, a seething anger you hadn’t seen before and weren’t too keen on getting familiar with. “I don’t like that this was just drafted, printed and handed to you without my permission. She and Peter shouldn’t have done that. And my mom definitely shouldn’t have ambushed you with this.”

Now he was being dramatic. “Robin didn’t ambush me! She told me a couple days ago and I thought you knew so I didn’t mention it.”

“I would never do that to you,” he says with a pain in his voice that makes your chest clench. “WE, you and I should be talking about this. Not my mom and Peter. Jesus.” He rested his arms on the counter, running his hands through his hair.

You hated seeing him get worked up like this, crossing the room again to place a comforting hand on his back. “Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. She most likely just thought she would do this for you so you didn’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t something she should be doing for me. We’re getting married. You’re going to be my wife. There’s no reason she needs to be handing you documents on my behalf like you’re some fucking stranger. I don’t care how ‘busy’ I am. You come first.” You can feel the tension in his muscles even when he stands up to his normal height. He’s really trying to keep it together, giving you an empty kiss on the cheek before heading into his office to cool off. An hour later you head up to check on him, assuming he has his headphones on and can’t hear you, you find that the door is locked.

Tomorrow’s brunch is going to be very interesting to say the least.

Joe surprised you by being in bed by the time you came upstairs to get ready to go to sleep. You thought for sure he’d be on a run to clear his mind. As soon as you climbed in next to him he put his phone away, wrapping his arms around you and giving your body a squeeze.

Whatever private meeting he had with himself must have done the trick because he was actually letting you be the big spoon for once. His touch was soft and intentional, the previously icy aura was liquified and only warm and cuddly Joe remained. “Are you okay?” You asked him and he nodded without looking at you. He just interlocked your fingers in his before sitting up.

“Switch me.” You knew the little spoon wouldn’t last long. “That’s better,” he sighs kissing your head, feeling at home with your arm draped across his waist.

After a few seconds of silence he mutters, “I’m so sorry this is happening. Are you sure you want to sign up for a lifetime of this?”

You look up to meet Joe’s gaze to see if he’s trying to be funny. “A lifetime of you? I can’t think of anything I would want more. The rest of it is just extra, the good and the bad. As long as I have you I don’t care.”

His shoulders sag once again in relief, “good.” Joe peppers a few kisses on your neck, making his way up to your jaw, taking his sweet time until he got to your lips. A joyous hum leaves his mouth as the kiss grows deeper, each swipe of his tongue against yours makes you feel dizzy…love drunk. Nothing compares to the way that Joe kisses you, sensually careful but hungry at the same time, almost as if this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do. This kiss is different, it’s a promise to always protect you, to never let the outside noise sway what his heart knows is true. He’s found the one person in the world that consistently makes his heart sing and no one—not even his mom—will have the final say. And he was going to make that very clear.

When Joe sluggishly came down the stairs the next day rubbing his eyes after his nap wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, you were just thankful he wasn’t in sweats.

“Hi there Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already gotten a few texts that most of them are about five minutes out.”

“Great,” he grunts, parking himself on the couch, “I’m starving,” he scoots around trying to subtly adjust himself.

Joe stares at you , running his hand down your thigh. “Hungry…for food right?” You give him a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah for food. What did you think I meant?” He laughs as he catches the pillow you launch his way and scoot far enough away that he can’t grab you.

“Don’t. Today really needs to be a stress free day. Can you promise you will be nice and not yell at your mother?” And with that statement he is no longer in the mood.

“I will not yell at my mom,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl only like a youngest child could. “Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Before you can negotiate any further the doorbell rings and your first guests arrive. Nieces and nephews come running in, suffocating you with hugs and the youngest one tugging at Joe’s legs demanding to be picked up. Less than 30 minutes later the entire backyard is filled with kids playing tag, drinking juice boxes while the adults enjoyed the appetizer spread.

Joe wasn’t making it blatantly obvious that he was mad but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either. He kept the greeting with his parents short, keeping his distance throughout the afternoon focused on entertaining the kids and playing the perfect host.

“I just realized I never asked,” Codie, one of Joe’s sister in laws speaks up. “Where are you two going for your honeymoon?”

“Bora Bora! I can’t wait,” you respond, topping off her wine glass.

His brother Dan’s ears perk up. “We were thinking about going there for an anniversary trip. Are you guys staying in a resort?”

Joe shakes his head, “I got us an underwater bungalow. The view is supposed to be insane.”

“Yeah I bet,” your dad notes.

“Take lots of pictures,” his dad adds in.

He waits for a second taking a mental note of his mom’s silence throughout the conversation, nudging you to make sure that you’re on the same page. By the time everyone was gone you needed something stronger than wine. Robin and your mom insisted on helping you clean up but you let them know that the caterers were coming back to grab everything. As you bid your family goodbye and thanked them for coming, your mom whispered in your ear, letting you know that the man inside was a keeper. You responded by telling her you intended on keeping him.

Once the door was fully closed you could breathe a sigh of relief…until you heard Robin ask Joe what was going on with him.

Here we go.

Joe didn’t respond. He just went up to his office and came right back down with the prenup in hand. “Care to explain?”

“Oh,” she looked rather unfazed, “Peter and I thought that—”

“And that’s where you went wrong,” Joe interrupts, voice surprisingly even. “You and Peter don’t get to ‘think.’ You don’t get to do whatever you ‘think’ I need. You have to ask me.”

You can tell she’s visibly taken aback at how this has gone. “It was not at all my intention to go behind your back. You’re just very busy and now with wedding planning and everything else, it just made sense to get it put into place so you’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Mom, I get that. But you crossed the line here. I’m an adult who would’ve liked to have a mature conversation with the person I am going to marry about a topic that is extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It is not your job to play the middle man here. There is no middle man. This is between y/n and I.”

The tension in the air was getting a little too thick for your liking. You stood next to Joe, running your hand down his arm trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. “Okay I think you’ve made your point. Robin, I am not at all upset with you, this can all be resolved rather—”

“I am upset with you mom. There was no reason to hand over that document without at least giving me a phone call,” Joe counters, starting to stand in front of you a bit like he’s physically shielding you from her.

“Now Joey I don’t think your mom meant any harm,” Joe’s dad speaks up seeing his wife almost in tears. “Why don’t we all just take a breather here.”

You nod in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, to both of you. In hindsight that wasn’t the best way to go about it but like you said this is uncomfortable. I thought keeping it casual would remove some of that awkwardness and I just made it worse. I really am sorry.”

Joe still seemed unmoved but you really didn’t think she needed to apologize this much. He just told her he appreciated the sentiments but that she needs to recognize that’s he’s an adult, telling them goodnight and immediately heading upstairs.

You’re left to walk them out alone, giving them both hugs goodbye. “Honey I’m so sorry,” Robin states again, “I never want you to think that I don’t love you or that I was intentionally going behind Joe’s back. I was just making sure we have all of our bases covered so we aren’t sweating the small stuff on your big day. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re totally fine, I understand. And I agree. I think he just got a little freaked out at the reminder that his life is abnormal. He wants things to be simple and sometimes they just aren’t. That probably stressed him out a little. Or a lot.”

It feels good to leave their tense interaction with her smiling. Even though it didn’t reach her eyes like usual, it was still a small step forward.

“How can you not be upset about this?” Joe asks after brushing his teeth.

You focused on what was going on at your sink, taking your time to complete your skincare routine. “Because I see where both of you are coming from. You have every right to be angry at her for doing this behind your back. But at the same time I understand why she feels like she should get a jump on protecting your assets.”

“Protect my assets…” he scoffs, “…from you? What’s mine is going to be yours.” He hands you a towel after you wash your face, having memorized the steps at this point.

“Yeah ok, legally. But your accomplishments and accolades are yours. That’s how you got here and your mom saw all the blood, sweat and tears that went into you being in the position you are today. She may have overstepped a little but you’re still her baby at the end of the day and sometimes it’s hard for them to recognize that they have adult children who are fully capable of making their own decisions.” He grabs the moisturizer off the counter and places it in your hand as you laugh, whispering thank you. “My mom has done the same to me, not to this extent obviously because we’re in completely different tax brackets but—they just want to make sure we’re okay no matter what.”

Joe leans against the counter, deep in thought. Growing up with his dad coaching it was usually just the two of them, she drove him to basketball and football practices and tournaments, took him to school and worked the entire day at school and came home still ready to dedicate all of her time to him if he asked. “I was too harsh wasn’t I?”

“A teeny bit? Maybe? I do thoroughly appreciate you looking out for me though. Going to bat for me against your mom of all people.”

He shrugs, giving you a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head. “She protects me so somebody’s gotta protect you. That’s what I’m signing up for and I promise to always take that job very seriously.” I should put that in my vows, he tells himself. He leans over a little more to press a kiss against your temple.

“Is that a promise?”

“That is a promise,” he holds out a pinky, making you gasp as you turn around.

“Isn’t a pinky shake you and Ja’Marr’s thing?”

Joe looks at you sheepishly, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

You lock your pinky in his, kissing the smile off of his face.

That night before he went to sleep, he texted his mom telling her that he loved her. You gave them privacy when she came over the next day, smiling and hugging it out so you assumed everything went well. You hoped to have open communication with your kids even as adults one day, but did not envy the journey that your parents were constantly navigating. This once tiny person you created and had to make sure to teach them everything was now not only getting married and had established their own life but in Joe’s case everything was heightened. She’s been there through her son being the overlooked player who Urban Meyer said threw like a girl to now if he so much as has a paper cut an entire city of people, a whole fanbase is worried and asking for minute by minute updates on his condition. You couldn’t imagine the whirlwind that must be.

So you were going to sign that prenup whether Joe liked it or not.

“We need to decide on bridal party gifts,” Joe suggests a week later. “I was thinking about getting the guys customized golf carts. They could be delivered straight to their houses after the wedding or I could have them dropped off the day we get there and they can drive around the property whenever they need to get somewhere? What sounds better?”

“It sounds like you’ve had this very specific plan and just couldn’t wait to make your big announcement. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Joe laughs, grabbing his water. “You can give them all Cartier bracelets, have the wedding date engraved on the inside. That’d be pretty cool.”

Cool and expensive. “Don’t do that, I can actually hear what you’re thinking.” Curse him for knowing you so well. “We’re only gonna do this once, might as well do it right. Make it a great experience for everyone we love.”

“Fine. You’re right. But we are not doing an ice sculpture then.” He gives you a blank stare but says nothing, both of you know that it’ll be coming back up sooner rather than later. “There is something else we need to talk about though.”

He rolls his eyes, deciding this is the perfect time to get up and put his plate in the sink, like you can’t just follow him. “We really don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but we do. Joe seriously we’re gonna have to figure this out. It’s important.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before putting his eyes back on you. “I’m just uncomfortable with any conversation that plans a breakup. I don’t ever want to breakup.”

“Then let’s not breakup and we won’t even have to worry about any of this. We’ll discuss the details, I’ll sign it and we’ll never talk about it ever again. Deal?”

You place a hand on his cheek and he kisses the inside of your hand before he speaks. “Deal. I can’t wait to marry you. Even got a countdown on my phone.”

“That’s probably the single most adorable thing you’ve ever said.” He pulls his phone out to show you a countdown app with a timer down to the hour the ceremony is supposed to start. A picture from your engagement shoot is set as the background. “I can’t wait either. I love you, so much.”

“I love you more.”

[adventuringblind]

Baby Daddy

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Smut

Request: Yes and I did this happily because it came from the best (Would have been happy either way but that just makes it better)

summary: Charles and Max decided to see who can get reader knocked up first.

Warnings: Breeding kink, PinV, vomiting, double penetration, teasing, praising+degrading

Notes: The author liked this one. The author will now be jumping in holy water.

masterlist

The following media is not intended for minors. Please don't interact if you're under the age of 18.

She wasn’t sure how the conversation started. She knew both boys wanted to start a family, and she was in the height of a baby fever that she can’t escape from. So, asking about it made sense.

Not that they were mad. Of course not. They just couldn’t decided who would be the one to be the biological father.

“I think we should make it a competition.” Max’s smug face makes her pale. It’s never a good sign when he brings up that word.

“Winner gets to choose the order of out last names.” Charles demands. Another argument they’d been having recently.

“What about me?! I’m the one who’s carrying the baby!”

“You can choose where yours goes no matter who wins.”

“Sounds fair to me.” She smiles with satisfaction. At least she knows there is an ungodly amount of good sex coming her way.

~

Three months of trying. She was sore after every race. not for the reasons of her lovers. But because of what they to do her. their competitive spits had yet to falter. Much to her benefit and pleasure.

Six months of trying and she was starting to lose confidence in herself. Her doctor said she’s fine, but it doesn’t stop the stupid thoughts because all three of them want this entirely to much.

A year and she’s given up on thinking about it. They are obviously still trying, but it’s not something that she talks about much anymore. She knows that it takes longer for some and she’s okay with that. She just avoids the subject as much as possible.

~

The night Max wins his second championship title is about how’d you expect it to be. Except for the part where him and Charles are in the corner with the tiniest bit of alcohol in their drinks.

They eye her in that stupid dress she knows they love, dancing rather suggestively with Kika and Lily. She’d been staying away from alcohol as of late so they know she’s not even close to tipsy. Yet the look on her face as she dances could make anyone think she was.

‘I think we should get out of here before we do something stupid.” Suggests Charles without breaking his gaze.

“Like what?”

“Take here right here and now.”

The boys startle her as they drag her away from her friends. She hardly even registers they are in the car going to the hotel. “Did I do something wrong?” The sincerity in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Max leans down to whisper in her ear. “Just thinking about getting this dress off of you."

Charles runs his fingers along her thighs, causing her to shiver. His mouth finds the crook of her neck and lays gentle kisses down to her collar bone.

She feels for the taxi driver. The poor man is subjected to whatever is happening in his back seat.

"Gonna take you home and put a baby in you." The Monegasque moans into her skin. It was making her feel in a way that had her squeezing her legs together.

They continued riling her up the entire way back to their hotel room. Even getting hands in the elevator and in the hall, which was thankfully empty.

Max gets the door to the room open. Then, the two males waste no time litterally ripping the dress off of her. Her clothes are gone in seconds.

Their hands are everywhere she doesn't want them. She's left squirming beneath their hold. Pinned to the bed in a way that leaves her more vulnerable. Every peice of herself exposed to them.

And they know exactly what they're doing.

Max runs a single finger over her slit. "Look, Charlie, I think she wanted this."

"Already so wet for us chéri." Charles moves from where he was attacking her neck down to her tits and attacks them instead. His tongue doing a number on the sensitive area.

Max slips a finger inside of her. To slow for her liking. She tries to buck her hips to get more friction only for Max's unoccupied hand to put more wait on her hips. "This is what you get for teasing us in that dress."

"Mm Maxy, think about how she'd look in the dress all swollen with our child." Charles hands barey touch her stomach, and yet it still has her back arching.

Max jumps off of her and is immediately pulling Charles up with him. He gives her a pointed look and tells her to stay.

And then their hands explore each other. Peeling each piece of clothing off the other in record time.

"If you're trying to get me to cum now to you have an advantage, it's nit going to work." Charles says as Max rolls his eyes and stops any movement he was making.

"I have an idea." Max mumbles.

"That's never a good sign."

"Well fine! I guess you don't want to hear how we could make this even."

The female looks between the two bickering and is interested in what he has to say. But also scared. Scared the she won't be able to walk for a week.

And she's right because soon enough, she is lying back against Charles with his cock inside of her. She can't stop moaning as Max leans over the top of them.

Even. She officially hates that word. And yet here she is being turned on by the fact that both boys will be inside her at the same time. Fingers crossed, they don't rip her open in the process.

"You sure you wanna try this?" Max looks at her for approval, and even with her initial fear, she knows they would never hurt her.

"Just go slow, please."

Max starts slow. Charles bites into her shoulder at the friction of her and Max. She can feel all of his muscles tensing underneath her as Max takes his sweet time pushing into her.

It hurts. She knows it won't in a couple of minutes. But right now, the stretch if it all burns like white hot fire.

When both are in her, they take care to help her relax until her body adjusts to the size. They wipe away her tears as she sinks into their hold.

"So good for us, amour. Taking both of us so beautifully." Charles exhales a breathy moan as if to further prove his point.

"Fuck schat, you look so pretty taking us so well."

And then everything went fuzzy. The friction of the two males was too much. Moving in and out in tandem; perfectly in sync with each other. Her thoughts seemed to be replaced only with them. Their breathing, the sounds, the feeling of skin on skin.

"Dobyou want it, schat? You want us to put a baby in you?"

She can't actually speak properly, but there is definitely a yes that can be heard in her moans.

Their praises are only pushing her closer to her breaking point. "I'm- please- I can't."

She doesn't even have time to warn them. She can't warn them. She can't hear them either. Her nails are buried in their skin.

They spill into her simultaneously. Their bodies are perfectly connected with each other. It feels overwhelming and terribly beautiful. The feeling of them spilling inside of her at the same time.

When they come down from the high is the hard part. Max slides out first, and Charles follows, slowly and gently. They collapse in a heap of exhaustion. The emotional tie and physical tie completely took their energy.

"Do you think maybe this time...?" She trails. Her question weighs on them.

"In time, mon amour. We'll still be here even if it's not."

~

Summer break is a time to recuperate. The three of you are on summer vacation, spending time together on the beach.

That night had been a month a half ago. The female had yet to realize she was late to her cycle. Opting to ignore it and assume she's just messed up for some reason.

The second to last morning of their trip, she woke up feeling absolutely terrible.

She snuck out of bed as quickly as she could without waking the boys who are much heavier sleepers than her anyway.

The nausea feeling was overpowering, and it didn't matter how stealthy she was. They woke up to the sound of her spilling the contents of her stomach.

And then every day after the the point everyone is concerned.

Two months and still no period, she finds herself at the doctors. The boys are back to racing, but with her state, she decided to stay in Monaco.

A decision she was now regretting while having the test from the doctor in her hands.

She is definitely pregnant this time. The paper in her hands says it clear as day.

It is only Friday. She has time to get out to the race to surprise them. And with that idea floating in her head, she calls Pascale.

~

Her and Pascale arrived to the track fifteen minutes into the race. The older woman is making a fuss over her as she tries to jog to the redbull garage. She was in Ferrari last time, and Redbull is closer to her anyway.

Pascale shakes her head as she watches the female slip into hospitality.

~

Max and Charles both made podium. She was absolutely ecstatic and even more so that Christian helped her get to where they would park.

They didn't notice her at first, even doing a double take at her and then each other. Then, with their helmets off, they ran to great her.

Their smiles were so big that she thought they might fall off.

They both attempted to embrace her through the divider, and she was able to slip her test results into the hand of Charles.

They looked at her skeptically before once again, having to leave her.

It wasn't until the cooldown room that they had a chance to look. Charles tentatively unfolds the paper and holds it out on front of him and Max.

The cameras got a lovely picture of the two hugging very tightly despite being 'rivals', and the happy tears from Charles could be made out even through the sweat.

Did it have people looking at the scene a little funny? Yes. She could hear the gasps of disapproval, but she didn't care. The teams know already and gave them the go-ahead over a year ago to make the relationship public.

She watches them with love and adoration.

~

"Definitely mine."

"No way! The baby will look like me!"

She rolls her eyes at the two. "Does it matter?" They look at her with mouths agape.

She is actively holding the paper that determines who wins. The paper that will tell them who the biological father is.

And she rips it.

Because no matter what, they are a family. The boys are looking at her endearingly despite the fact that she just took away their results. Because it doesn't matter. They are making their own little family and they couldn't be happier.

So, the argument of the last name order continues one.

[schemmentigfs]

Caught Red-Handed.

paring: melissa schemmenti x reader.

summary: janine accidentally catches you and melissa during a intense making out session at school.

warnings: smut (obviously) public sex, spanking, dirty talk, mommy kink, praises, fingering, swearing, melissa is just a horny motherfucker in this one.

author notes: the winner of the poll! my inspiration for this oneshot came when I was scrolling through my spotify playlist. Or maybe it was an excuse to write another smut featuring melissa & reader. (yeah, definitely the second option.) sorry for the little delay, I was going to post yesterday but I had an exhausting day and forgot it. Just me being me. Anyways, enjoy. 🫶🏻

You lost track of time as you felt your body being pushed into the janitor's closet with some force and urgency. Your back hit a cupboard containing several of Mr Johnson's cleaning products, some falling to the floor on impact. Making a loud noise echo throughout the entire hallway that could alert anyone, but that didn't scare your girlfriend who, unlike you, wasn't scared of the possibility of being caught and continued the makeout session passionately, smirking into your lips.

“We can't—” your insistence and protests are interrupted by a small gasp when Melissa's soft and warm lips deposited small kisses and bites on your neck. Marking and claiming you as hers, with each of the hickeys. For the rest of the week, you would have to wear something to hide those blue and purple marks if you didn't want any of your co-workers to suspect anything. “Babe. Someone might hear us or worse.”

Since you started a serious relationship with the older woman two months ago, it was common for you to have a secret makeout session somewhere at school that would lead to hours of loving or rough sex (it really depended on Melissa's mood) when you got home. But today, she didn't seem in a hurry to go to her place soon. In fact, she had other plans.

She had spent the entire morning teasing you and discreetly flirting with you whenever she got the chance. And instead of being embarrassed like always, you challenged her at lunch saying that she could do better than that. You were quite naive to think she wasn't going to do anything, but here was Melissa Schemmenti about to fuck you senseless and show you who was in charge.

“You just need to be quiet, sweet girl,” she whispers and began to unbutton your blouse. Massaging and squeezing your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Or everyone will find out how you are a desperate little slut for mommy.”

You throw your head back, losing yourself in the pleasure and sensation. “Mel,” you groaned when when she throwed the fabric on the floor and pinched and licked your nipples. “Please.”

The older woman stops for a second and put a hand on your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. “Be a good girl and behave, understand?“

Remaining quiet, you pull away slightly, still a little hesitant about getting caught and having sex with Melissa on school grounds. It didn't sound too appropriate, especially in the janitor's closet. “Honey, let’s go home. We can’t do it here.”

A fury is evident in her green eyes and she slaps your ass hard, making you wince and hide your face in her shoulder. “I told ya to behave and not act like a fucking whore.” Another even harder slap. “Do you understand?” she repeats.

The change in her behavior sent shivers throughout your whole body. Melissa was a very possessive and dominant woman, it was obvious and everyone was aware of it. She liked the feeling of power, of being in control and being honest, you liked that side of her. It suited her a lot.

“Yes mommy, I understand. I’ll be good and behave,” you gulped feeling all the excitement go straight to your core.

“That’s my good girl, now shut up and lean against the wall. Don’t make me wait or I will punish you just like last time,” she commands with a harsh tone and you nod, not wanting to be punished for bad behavior (at least not yet.)

Melissa slowly approaches and gives your lips a tender peck, before undoing your jeans and panties in a quick, single movement. Leaving her precious and innocent angel completely naked, ready to be ruined by her. Instantly you wrap one of your legs around her waist. Earning a satisfied hum from the redhead.

“Look at you, my beautiful girl, always so obedient and ready for me,” she parted your folds with her slender fingers, biting her lip as she noticed and spread your wetness. “I've been thinking about it all day, how I was going to destroy you.”

“Please, I need you inside. Please mommy, don’t tease,” you whimper when the redhead presses her thumb on your clit and circles your entrance. The action emitting a trembling moan to fall from your lips.

“It's kind of funny, you know? Earlier you were all confident trying to challenge me,“ she chucked peppering kisses in your entire face to relax you for what was about to happen. “And now you're begging and aching to be touched by mommy.”

After painful seconds, without warning she enters you with three fingers, filling your tight hole deliciously. Barely giving you time to get used to the painful stretching and thrusting in and out of you at a rapid pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, Melissa knew exactly where and how to touch you, making you a squirming babbling mess every single time.

“FUCK!” you scream, covering your mouth with one of your hands. “That feels so good..”

She smiles mischievously, enchanted by the way your walls clenched around her fingers. The smell of sex and the sound of your celestial moans filling the room as she curled and pumped her digits, slowly bringing you to climax. Her free hand gripping your hips to keep you steady.

“Do you like this, babygirl? Do you like it when I go deep inside you?” the woman asks while mocking your totally fucked up state — your hair was slightly messy, your neck was covered in love marks and your eyes were wide. A beautiful sight for Melissa. “Answer me and you'll be rewarded.”

“Yes, I love it when you fill me up mommy. You make me feel so good,” your words came out in a whisper, as your breathing seemed increasingly labored and uneven. Your hips moved back and forth in time with the rhythm of her fingers inside you. “Shit,” You cry out as she finds your spongy spot and slows down a little.

As much as Melissa was enjoying watching your face turn into a complete blur of pleasure with each touch, she knew she had to be quick to avoid the risk of Mr. Johnson or anyone else coming in and catching the two of you in such an intimate moment.

“Such a good little girl. C'mon, sweetheart, cum for mommy,” the Italian whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe. “You can do this, princess.”

“I’m gonna—” you meweld, grabbing onto the lapels of her green blazer and trying to hold Melissa close. A warm white liquid ran down your girlfriend's fingers and wrist, your legs were trembling. You instantly wrapped your arms around her neck so you could balance yourself, since you didn't trust your ability to stand without holding on to something. “Holy shit.”

During your high, Melissa whispered sweet nothings and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Take a deep breath, amore mio,” she instructed, removing her fingers from you affectionately, once you calmed down.

“Feel better?” you ask with a genuine laugh putting on your clothes again with some difficulty.

“Much better. But I can't wait to get home and bend you in the kitchen counter.” She responds in a seductive tone, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. And you fight the urge to stay there and let her do whatever she wants to you.

God, that fiery redhead would be the death of you.

“Well, I think we better go home right away. To start our long night as soon as possible..” you spoke with a stupid smile and intertwined your fingers together, pulling her so you could leave discreetly.

But the plan backfired when you opened the door and bumped into Janine, who had an expression of complete shock on her face, alternating her gaze between the two of you, letting her bag fall to the floor. “Oh! You were—” she says louder than usual, almost alerting the rest of the crew nearby. Shit, you had been caught.

An uncomfortable silence settles and you hide your face in your hands, mentally cursing yourself for not having convinced Melissa that this was a bad idea. And now it was time to deal with the consequences of the sinful act.

“Don’t say a word, pipsqueak or you’ll regret it.” Melissa threatens, crossing her arms and giving the youngest a deadly glare, in a desperate and failed attempt to intimidate her, but the redhead's flushed cheeks gave away how embarrassed she was by the situation. “I mean it.”

The second grade teacher raises her hands in redemption. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I swear!” she gives a panicked smile. “I was just in the hallway and I ended up hearing a scream and wanted to check what happened. Guess this explains a lot. So for how long have you been together? Does anyone know besides me? Oh, and are you living together?” Her expression softens and she launches into the questions, seeming to be starting a mini interrogation.

“It’s been two months and no one knows yet, we’re planning to tell everyone soon. And we don’t live together, even though I spend more time at Mel’s house than at mine.” You replied calmly trying to keep up with her quick words.

“That's cute, I'm glad you two are dating. I've always been rooting for you! Seriously.”

After more questions, Janine said goodbye to you. Promising that she wouldn't tell anyone beforehand — this was after another small threat from your girlfriend (of course) who wanted to make sure that wasn't going to happen.

“Next time, I'll listen to you about not doing a makeout session on school grounds. It was a bit awkward.” Melissa admits placing a hand on your back. “Ready to go?”

“Always.”

“Oi, lovebirds. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mr. Johnson asks, catching your attention. Pointing to a squeegee and bucket of water. “You make the mess, you clean it up.” Fuck, apparently you and Melissa weren't going home anytime soon.

[amaranthineghost]

I'LL LET YOU GO IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

a little over half a year later when the season ended, they haven't found their way back. At least not on purpose, but the universe knows better than them

authors note: I was thinking of making a happy ending, but not everything always ends up that way </3 after this, I'll work on two max imagines and then I'll see what I can do while I'm on spring break

part 1 found here

IT’S BEEN EIGHT MONTHS since she last spoke to him.

two hundred forty-three days since she last saw that sad look on his face in the rear-view mirror as she drove away from the past she half-wished was her future.

five thousand eight hundred thirty-two hours since she last felt his touch, his arms consoling and unwilling to let her go and yet she still left.

three hundred forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and twenty seconds since the peak of his performance at the beginning of the season. now she watched as he tried and failed to be what he once was. maybe not a winner, or a champion, but he’d had her, which was practically equal.

but now he had lost her.

now she watched as the season came to an end. poor performance after poor performance after poor performance where not all races ended in crossing the finish line.

she never stopped watching, yet she could never reach out, and neither would he. he was always going to be ready to accept her back into his life, yet he knew she needed time.

but she didn't know if she could do it again, though at the same time she kept eyeing his life in envy because part of her wished she could live the way he could without being bothered by the media. part of her was jealous he could live his entire life in front of a camera and be so nonchalant about it.

scrolling through his socials, they still followed each other and it caught people's attention. she read through countless tweets, theories and rumors of their relationship still carrying on behind the cameras, and though she partly wished it to be true, she hated that it wasn't. the fans still wished, and she would too.

the random appearances in the paddock had come to an end, unfortunate for the fans who loved whenever she’d show up in support of her boyfriend, turned ex.

because now all she did was stay within the confines of her apartment building, shielded from the possibility of running into lando. she couldn’t handle bumping into him when she still felt as fragile as glass. she felt like she would shatter if she saw him again, no matter how much she wanted him back.

but living in monaco means you're bound to run into someone from his circle of life.

it felt bittersweet because she wanted him back so badly, to have him hold her in his arms and tell her they’d make it work. but it’d never happened, and truthfully, she hoped it never would. because she knew that if she saw him, she wouldn’t go running back into his arms as if making it work again was the easiest option. because really, if she saw him, she would run, not towards him but away, and she dreaded the fact that he would let her.

he’d watch the love of his life run from him rather than to him and be totally fine with it. because he knew that when the time was right, she would find him again, or he would find her, and only then she wouldn’t run from him.

but he feared for the day that he would realize that she was never coming back to him. he feared for the day where he would realize he shouldn't have let her go.

and he hopes for the day, though it may never come, where she does find the right time to come back to him. he prays for the day where he would make the right choice he should've made the first time.

because in the infinite universes that are said to exist, even if she never returns in nearly every one, he hopes to live the one where she would.

but he knows that if there's a universe where she comes back, even after his idiocy of letting her go to begin with, there's also one where this could've been avoided all together. a universe where he didn't have to watch her pack her bags while shuddering with sobs.

a universe where he wouldn't have to go without her for eight months, where his performance improved when she attended grand prixs.

the one he'd rather live with her than without.

it was unsure when they would ever see each other again. they'd gone this long without seeing the other, who's to say they ever would?

it was chilly in the streets of monaco, contrast to the usually warm, sunny climate the area was known for. she wore a thick coat while she walked down the sidewalk, past the seasonal market with nothing more than her phone, wallet and tote bag.

she needed to get out, to think. she couldn't stand being trapped in the box of her apartment surrounded by nothing but reminders of him. not that it was a bad thing.

she couldn't take another second overanalyzing the helmet he had left for her. she knew it was part of his plan to have her back. to make her want more helmets dedicated to her, which he continued to do despite her not being with him. she'd be lying if she said his plan was failing.

the hoodie, probably tied into the same plan, covered in his damn cologne he knew she couldn't get enough of. it had faded over time, becoming replaced with the smell of her instead. she didn't know what to think of it.

she considered purchasing that same cologne again, drowning the fabric in its fragrance. it wouldn't be the same.

she felt like she could breathe easier with the winter air rather than the stale air of her apartment. sure, she could've stepped onto the balcony, but it was always nice to find a way out of her apartment complex.

hands stuffed in her pockets, she wandered around aimlessly at the shops that lined the streets and stalls set up to buy from.

riddled with things that caught her eye, she couldn't help but stop at nearly every stall. it took an incredible amount of self control to not buy everything she wanted. she didn't have lando by her side to buy everything.

this was her life now. she had a job that she could do from home and it paid her rent. it was enough to live off of while she completed her last years of school before she started a career for herself. tiny little trinkets seemed good in the moment, but she knew long-term that it’d eventually hurt her financially, and besides she didn’t have that much space in her apartment.

she didn’t know how much time had passed. everything was a blur as she mindlessly walked on. she hadn’t noticed when she bumped her shoulder into somebody’s chest, and she had immediately begun to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, i wasn’t looking where i was—lando?” she recognized the curly-haired guy in front of her as she stood there frozen.

“hey, long time no see,” he spoke slowly and warily, looking her up and down at the changes of her appearances that occurred over the last eight months.

“uh—what are you doing here?” she questioned, stuttering over her words just slightly as she looked at him tensely.

lando looked around with a brow raised, hands in his pockets while he answered, “uh, i live here?”

she nodded, “right.”

the air was awkward as they stood in a tense silence. people ushered around them, occasionally bumping into them. they hadn’t known what to say to each other because they weren’t expecting this impromptu meeting.

“how’ve you been?” he broke the silence.

she nodded again, “fine, and you? i saw that your season wasn’t too good.”

he grimaced softly at her words, “yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, “just some technical issues.”

“right.”

the silence was back and more deafening than the first time, standing awkwardly looking at each other didn’t help.

again, he was the one to break it, “could i buy you a drink?”

“isn’t it a bit early for alcohol?” she questioned, looking at the brightness of the sky before her gaze settled back down at him with a weird look.

he scoffed, “i mean the coffee shop down the street,” his voice was a half chuckle as he began walking, leaving her to follow.

“well, you’re unpredictable these days,” she fell into step with him as they walked side by side in silence.

it took all of two minutes for them to arrive at the coffee shop lando had mentioned. they could smell the aroma from a ways away, the door left open to let in the cool breeze.

the shop was warm and cozy, most tables were occupied except for a few scattered around. she reached for her wallet to buy herself a coffee, but he quickly shut it down.

“it's my treat,” was all he said before he walked up to the counter with his card in hand to order as she took the two seater by the window, setting her bag down on the ground. she watched the world from where she sat, the people walking by.

groups of friends, pairs that weren’t quite at the stage of being a couple, or the single person walking by every so often. all without crossing paths. it seemed crazy to her how so much could change because of a stranger on the street.

looking back to where lando stood ordering, she wondered what her life would’ve been if they hadn’t met. they wouldn’t have traveled the world, stayed out late on rooftops, or partied in clubs despite her hesitancy. he wouldn’t have dedicated nearly his whole career to her because she was forever a piece of him.

she realized how much she had meant when she saw just how much of her he still kept. he wore shirts with printed pink bows, the one gold bracelet he wore among the silver and fan bracelets given to him by her and he never took it off. the way he styled his hair in the way she taught him, the matching rings they still wore, the references of her personality on his helmet for every race rather than a specific track, her name on his car.

her name on his car.

her name printed in pretty cursive across the top of his steering wheel and the halo for him to see.

he still managed to include her in his life despite her absence because he considered her his lucky charm. having reminders of her anywhere he could would always manage to boost his spirits, but only her presence would boost his performance.

the chair across from her pulled out with an uncomfortable scrape of the legs against the floor. she grimaced slightly, but it quickly disappeared when she refocused on the hand that slid a mug filled with hot coffee to her.

clearly they were going to be here a while, judging from the mug and not a to-go cup. she watched the steam swirl into the air as she softly blew on it while lando sat across from her with his beverage of choice. she also noticed the chocolate-chip cookie in a paper bag he held.

he remembered her love of sweets. she took a sip of her coffee. he remembered her order to the finest detail. he still remembered.

“thanks,” she spoke quietly before taking another small sip of the hot beverage. it slightly burned her tongue and throat as she drank, but she didn’t care to notice.

she was sitting across from lando norris, the one person she had been hoping to avoid this whole time, and now she’s sat with him at a coffee shop they used to frequent when they were dating.

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, his saddened eyes unmoving from her face, watching every expression of hers unfold. “so, how have you been?”

“you’ve already asked that,” she stated simply.

“i mean,” he started, leaning forward with his arms crossed against the table, “how have you really been? i don’t believe for a second that you’ve been fine when i‘m barely holdin’ it together.”

she sighed, taking another sip and grimacing at the burn, “it’s been difficult, but i know it was for the best that we broke up.”

he nodded in response, his fingers circling the rim of his mug as he stared into it.

she spoke up again, saying the words he dreaded to hear, “and i think it should stay that way.”

his shoulders visibly dropped and he bit his cheek before he looked back at her with colorless eyes, “but—” he began when she hastily cut him off.

“i need you to let me go,” her voice cracked as she spoke and tears filled her eyes as she avoided his gaze, “you have to let me let you go, lan.”

“please, don’t make me do this,” he begged, leaning forward again with a look that could make her change her mind in a second.

“please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” she shook her head as the tears began to fall, “in another universe, it might’ve been me and you, maybe the circumstances would've been in our favor, but not in this one.”

“it’s just right person, wrong life.”

“i’ll find you in our next lifetime then,” he promises, his eyes brimming with tears. he tried his best to hold back, for her, “i promise.” he tried to remain strong, for her.

“I know you will.” she said simply, smiling through her tears as she pursed her lips, sniffling as she played with her fingers. “y’know, i'll always be your number one supporter, lan. i'll still cheer for you, just from behind a screen. in that other life, i would come to your races.”

“but even in this one, i'll still celebrate your first win, your first championship. i'll vote you for driver of the day, even if you’re dead last.”

he chuckled sadly at the last part, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile, “how will i know for sure you didn’t get bored of watching me race?” his hand reached across the table, his tan slightly faded and his rings cold.

she rolled her eyes softly, “you’ll know. i promise.” she laid her hand on his, the last somewhat intimate touch they’ll ever have with each other because after he watched her stand, pocketing the cookie he bought. he watched her through the window as she walked into the crowd as if their paths never met.

he watched with tears in his eyes, silently crying as he watched the love of his other life turn her back on him forever. he let her.

because if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was letting her go.

part of her wanted him to chase after her, wipe her mascara-stained tears just like that regretful day in their old apartment because part of her still wanted him in her life. she wished she could still go back sometimes.

he wished she would just come back. he wanted to experience life with her, he wanted to win with her, be a champion with her.

but he lived in the wrong universe, and he was unsure if he'd ever see her in this life again, in the way he wanted. they would bump shoulders on the street, looking longingly for just a second as they ushered by in a hurry. not looking back, but never forgetting how much they had meant to each other for the time they were together.

how crossing paths, even for what seemed like the shortest time to them, changed the trajectory of their lives forever. they would subconsciously look for qualities of each other in the people they moved onto. telling stories to their kids and grandkids about the other in regretful tones because they wished it was the kids they had together that they could tell the story of their relationship to.

because now they were just strangers, she was just a name he would forever keep on his car, and he was just an old lover turned stranger she would send flowers to after every podium and win until he would retire.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @leclercdream

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[nicolesainz]

“Written mine on my upper thigh” LN4

Lando Norris x f!reader

Author’s note: My comeback story HAD to be about the winner of the Dutch Grand Prix (by 22 seconds) and @freedaxf1 ‘s husband!! I present to you, possessive Lando Norris

Summary: Lando and you have been having an on and off relationship since your teenage years. While he lives his life in England, you’re back home trying to move on but everything seems impossible. What happens when Lando finally tracks the continues cycle?

Warnings: inaccuracies about Lando’s job and birthday, sexual themes, minors dni, 18+, nicknames, oral sex!

His eyes had been glued to my body for the better part of the night. I must admit mine were doing the exact same, given with how good he was looking. In all the years we have known each other this was one of the times where I have caught myself thinking “I will never share him with anyone. He is mine.”

I had come to London for a play with my friend group and we all decide to collectively separate our schedules and explore the city. In my case, I had been desperate enough to let someone else explore me. I knew that if I spent another month without his touch, I would need to buy a third vibrator.

As I was walking into the fourth bookstore of the day, trying to find as many new romance novels as possible, thankful I decided to pack very lightly, and my luggage had some extra space. It was at the very moment when my fingers laid on Shakespeare’s “Othello” when a raspy British voice tingled my entire body, “No surprise finding you looking at England’s most profound litterateur work.”

I turned around to be met with the most crystal blue eyes I had ever encountered in my life. They also happened to be the eyes of the man that drove me insane for most of my teenage years and fell in love with. I also was not surprised when I caught him licking his lips as he was staring into mine. Usually what that meant in both our minds was “Yours or mine?”

“I am starting to believe you have put a tracker on me given I can’t hide from you.”

“You will never find it sweetheart. I am better at hiding than you will ever be.”

“Now that you mentioned it, a certain pair of panties has me feeling uneasy every time I wear them on dates, maybe that’s your hiding spot.”

“Probably shouldn’t have worn them whilst you were with me. Or even when you weren’t with me, since it’s a sign that I have marked them as mine.”

“A tracker was unnecessary. The universe has sided with you, knowing all my dates were major failures.”

“I won’t lie to you, so I can’t say I am sorry for you baby. After all, I hardly doubt you reached a point with those poor fellas where you screamed their name as loud as you did mine.”

This probably would be an ideal time for him but very unfortunate time for me to admit that I once misnamed one of my dates and used his name instead. And an even more annoying fact that he was right about was that I had never reached a point with any of those guys to moan their names, or even let them touch me.

The past 3 months I hadn’t allowed myself to get physical with anyone else but him. Everyone was slowly starting to wonder why my visits to London were becoming more and more regular. As the months were going by quite fast, the use of my vibrator was becoming an even more usual habit. The moment I die I know there’s a place for me in hell, with the amount of times I have surrendered myself to the captivating voice of this Englishman, making the most unholy thoughts about his tongue and fingers touching the most inappropriate parts of my body, as I slide in my vibrator, imagining his insanely powerful body thumping against mine, groaning and moaning his name louder than a holy prayer.

“What brings you around my place this time? Missed my cock so much couldn’t get enough of it?”

“Friend group getaway if you so badly want to know. And trust me if I wanted to fuck you so much with one single call, I could have made you travel back home and wreck me, like the good obedient boy you are.”

“I think you are mistaking me for you darling. I don’t remember being the one who came knocking on one’s door begging for a night of pleasure. Or the one who screamed the other’s name so loud they lost their voice the next day and wanted to be fucked in front of a mirror so they could see how well I fit inside of them.”

I absolutely hate it how he knows exactly which buttons to push in order to play with my brain. Well, you’re the one who lets him so, it’s more your fault, not his. Although I absolutely love it when he pushes those buttons during sex.

I will never admit to his face that he is the best sex I have ever had. He doesn’t need to know that his ego doesn’t need more boost. Ever since I last saw him, he has changed massively. His hair has turned into a darker shade, the fuzziness in his hair has been replaced by a regular curly cut and only a few strands can be seen from the excess of his beanie. He probably has grown a few inches as well, hopefully his cock has as well.

“Say, how did you find me? If you are stalking me, I should get restraining orders now.”

“Happy coincidence. I was looking for new law books about school. And also, a gift for your birthday.”

My heart stopped when he said he was looking a gift for my birthday. I sent him a month ago for his own birthday a scrap book from my last visit in London with pictures we took of each other of the different sights we visited, maybe a few sneaky ones in bed as well.

“You know you don’t have to buy me anything. A text or a call is more than enough.”

“I know, my love, but nonetheless I had to get you something. Thought it was better than anything else.”

“Surely not better than being with you or hearing your voice.”

After I managed to escape from his eyesight, I went back to my room to get changed for the night out me and the guys were about to have. We mutually agreed not to pull an all-nighter so we would be in time tomorrow for the play. With the chilly weather I was met today, I decided that along with my tight dark blue dress, a pair of see-through leggings would be more than ideal. I was on a call with the girls and as I was applying my red lipstick, a message popped up on my screen.

“Try not to catch a cold tonight babe.”

Such small messages declaring his love for me were everything I was asking for in a man and I am thankful they are parts of him. We weren’t in a proper relationship but to the people that didn’t know me very well like my friends, I was always saying “Oh I have a boyfriend, but he lives in the UK”, because he indeed was the closest things I had to one.

When I finally found the location of the club, I managed to easily spot my friends, and I was greeted with many drinks to pick from. Alcohol heaven for sure. I decided to refrain from drinking over 2 glasses so I could enjoy their company more sober than drunk and in case I needed to carry anyone back to their hotels.

After 2 hours all the girls found themselves dancing on the main floor to a remix of Jason Derulo and Lady Gaga, the dirtier the better. All the lights were flashing on our bodies and every man around us was raising their glasses to the way we were dancing. One certain man though wasn’t very pleased with the way I was dancing.

My vision was slightly blurry, but I could tell from the facial expression and the crossed arms that his blood was boiling and the more I was shaking my ass, the more he was ready to throw hands to the other men that were drooling over me and then grab me from the waist and drag me out of the club. I slowly stopped and was about to go sit down with the boys of my friend group, when I felt a sudden arm forcing me away from the couch.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Or were you not thinking at all?” his voice has risen an octave higher than the music and had shaken me to my core. He has never yelled at me.

“I was just dancing. There’s no need to yell at me.”

“Almost 50 men were one step away from getting on the dance floor and laying their hands on you. Do you call that ‘just dancing’?”

“I wasn’t dancing alone, and I wasn’t the only one dancing in that manner.”

“Do you think I care what the other girls do?”

“I still don’t get where all this possessiveness comes from? I get that we have a good time together, I love you and you love me, but we aren’t in a relationship. You don’t own me. I can do whatever I want.”

“You do whatever you want and yet you let me play with you whenever you’re near me. You never stop me. You haven’t slept with other men since we last met and you always talk about how much you are missing me. I only talk about you to my friends, and I refuse to go on dates knowing you’re in another country saving yourself. So, forgive me if I care about you even though I am not your boyfriend.”

As much as it pains me sometimes to admit, I would give anything for him to be my boyfriend. He is the only man I trust with my heart and body. I hadn’t fallen in love with another man ever since we first kissed back when I turned 18. So yes, I can complain as much as I want.

“Feeling better now? I have stopped dancing, and I will go home to wear my nun costume so no man in sight sees any possible skin from my body. Will this please you? Or should I cover my face as well?”

“What would please me is if I had you every day close to my body, wrapped inside my arms, kissing your every inch day and night, claim you as mine forever but god forbid, we are ever in the same place for at least 2 weeks.”

I do not hold back, and I grab his face into my palms and kiss him fiercely. Every time we kiss, I get more and more intoxicated. I am being drugged by the best possible addictive poison. My heart is filled to the very top and I do not desire anything else more in this world that having him kissing me until my breath is cut short.

His tongue dances with mine and the feeling of vodka mixed with gin burns my throat in a pleasing way. I can feel my lipstick being smudged all over his face and as my hands are wrapped around his neck, my leg finds its way around his waist to pull him closer to my body. Everything betrays his power on me as I can feel him growing against me and moaning softly.

“Not here. I need you all for myself. Where are you staying?”

In just a few minutes I find myself slammed against the shower wall, with the water covering both our bodies, extending the heat. His lips found their way on my neck and his fingers are playing with my hardened nipples. My mouth can’t possibly contain the ungodly moans that he is producing and fuck him nothing can ever top this.

“Say once more than you aren’t mine and I will stop being gentle with you.”

“I am so yours. No other man kisses me the way you do. No other man touches me the way you do.”

“No sweetheart, no other man is allowed to touch you. Get it?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Words barely are being phrased properly as I scream in pleasure when he softly bites my nipple after having bitted my collarbone. I have come to terms with the fact that I love it when he is biting me. It’s his way of showing that he loves me. I literally have no control of my body the moment he lays his kisses on me. Its absolutely beautiful.

“I love no one else but you. Oh, how I adore you.” I manage to mumble through the groans.

“What an angel you are. From the moment I met you I knew I was done. Oh, you are never leaving my grasp.”

“Then don’t make me leave. I can be yours, I am yours.”

He then proceeds to fall on his knees, so he can be met with my womanhood as he raised my leg over his shoulder for better view.

“Facetiming you will never compare to the real deal. Oh, my beauty.” And my hands instantly grab against his hair and pull then tightly as his tongue is toying with my wet core. Every inch of my body is trembling and I can’t physically stop moaning his name that by now even the neighbours are well aware of his existence.

“Be mine. Be mine forever. I will give you anything, all I want in return is you.”

“Don’t stop. Oh, I missed you. You take care of me better than anyone else.”

“I can’t go another 3 months without seeing you. Stay with me.”

“I love you but oh my, you know I can’t.”

“Be my girlfriend. Please let me be yours. Let me claim you as mine. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life.”

I look down on him as his lips detach from myself and the cold breeze of the shower hits me with an open mouth from the shock he just caused. I never in my life thought he would ask me to be his girlfriend. It made my heart shutter when I couldn’t have him years ago and now that I am given the chance, everything restored. All I could possibly ask for.

“You probably found the best timing in the world to ask me such question. At my most vulnerable.”

“Want me to ask you after I am finished eating you up darling?”

“I mean, no, my answer would be the very same.”

“Which is? Care to share with an impatient man?”

“A million times yes. Do you think I have spent all this money in visiting you for you to ask me that question and then say no? I would have been insane.”

“You kind of are insane.”

“Excuse me?”

“You go insane every time we kiss and then you drive me insane so we are even.”

“Insane boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Surely the perfect match.”

[thesillymask]

D-Do I see Abel?

....

Can I request an Abel x Female Reader where the reader comforts Ab after a stressful day at work?

Yes! You see our beloved boy Abel! By the way, sorry for the delay! The last few months have been a bit busy for me.

Soft as wool, sweet as honey

Abel x Fem!Winner!Reader (Relationship established)

Genre: fluffy

⚠️warnings:Psychological pressure, possible triggers

Abel never wanted this to be honest, he never wanted to be the new leader of the exorcists. he just agreed to it to continue his father's legacy, even though his father doesn't give a damn about him.

To say he was nervous was an understatement, he was very anxious about the whole thing. Being the leader of the exorcists is a very high position and he was not at all prepared for it. He had to have an extremely long conversation with Sera about the rules and his duties as the new leader, in addition to having to train for hours to have some combat skills. And let's not even mention the paperwork, dammit! What's the need for so many documents!? Couldn't he just write down his name and make it official?

And if that wasn't enough the next day he had more work, and very early! He spent almost the entire day hiring new exorcists and running after new angelic weapons. That job really wasn't for him... But he couldn't give up now! Not when all the seraphim were counting on him and the exorcists needed new members and a new leader after the disaster of the last extermination. He had to do it, it was his duty... He needed to...

Once his work was finally done, he stretched and gave an exhausted sigh. He then gets up from the chair he was in and leaves his office. He locks his door, a tired look on his face as he takes off the mask, fixing his hair.

— "god... What a tiring day..."

He mutters to himself and then spreads his wings, flapping them lightly and then starting to fly. He must have to fly a lot until he finally gets to his house, after all his father's office (which was now his) was very far from where he lived. He gently opens the door, closing it behind him as he lets out a soft groan of frustration. he is then greeted by (name), his girlfriend, his gaze softening as he saw her

— "Honeybun... Hi..."

He gives a slight smile when he sees her, placing his mask on a nearby piece of furniture and hugs her, wrapping her in his arms while muttering softly. (name) notices his tired behavior and gently strokes his back.

— "hey Abel... How was work today?"

She asks, a hint of concern in her voice. She barely saw him all day and was thinking about him all day. Abel just nods and lets out a sigh, before breaking the hug.

— "It was... It was good... I think..."

He said softly, his shoulders slumping as he looked away. It was clear he didn't want to worry her, but it was obvious how stressed he was at that moment. (name)'s gaze softens and she puts her hands on his shoulders Abel, making him look at her

— "You don't look well... Do you want to sit down and talk a little?"

She says with a warm expression, wanting Abel to know that she was there for him. Abel looks at him for a few seconds before nodding slowly. She takes Abel into the living room, sitting next to him on the sofa. Abel was looking down, avoiding looking at her. She notices his tension and reaches out to touch his arm.

— "hey... Look at me..."

(name) says in a soft, sweet tone. Abel hesitates for a moment before looking at her, his eyes looking at her, you could see he looked agitated.

— "Tell me... Was work very stressful for you?"

(name) asks, her eyes never leaving his face. Abel lets out a sigh and nods, looking down at the ground again.

— "yeah... I had to endure over and over job interviews with so many candidates... There were so many and I was so agitated... They looked so serious and had a blank look in their eyes... Also I had to look for new angelic weapons for the new exorcists... I had to order several of them..."

He says in a frustrated tone, his hands clasped together as his fingers press together a little tighter, a sign of how nervous and overwhelmed he is. (name) looks at him with a soft and understanding look, I understand how stressful the day must have been. her hand moves down his arm to his hand, holding it

— "It must have been too much for you..."

(name) stops talking for a moment, before speaking again.

— "You know you don't have to do this, right?..."

— "Of course I do... Everyone is counting on me... I can't let them down now... I can't give up now..."

Abel says, turning to look at her, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked away. (name) reaches her other hand to Abel's face, cupping his cheek and turning his head to look at her.

— "I understand that you don't want to disappoint others... But if you don't want that... You can't force yourself to do it..."

Abel just lets out another sigh, burying his face in his hands.

— "I know I know... I just... I'm just tired... I'll be fine, I promise..."

He then takes his hands off his face and looks at her

— "I just need to recover..."

He says, trying to reassure her and convince her that everything was okay. (name) looks at him, seeing that Abel needed comfort more than anything. she suddenly pulls him into a hug, holding him close and stroking his back

— "ok... If that's what it takes..."

She says in a low, soft tone, making Abel feel a warmth in his chest. He hugs her back and buries his face in her shoulder, closing his eyes as he enjoys the feeling.

— "thank you... thank you very much... I needed this..."

he says, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck as he holds her close. They stay hugging like that until (name) has an idea and lies down on the couch, pulling him along. Abel lets out a soft cry of surprise, before relaxing and burying his face in her chest, letting out a soft sigh of relief. (name) begins to gently stroke his hair, humming sweetly.

— "Comfortable?"

she asked, earning a nod and a soft, muffled 'mhm' from Abel. an affectionate smile and continues to caress his hair, her fingers snaking through the strands, feeling the softness and smoothness. they sit in peaceful silence until Abel suddenly speaks

— "hey cinnamonpie"

he says quietly, earning a curious look from (name)

— "yeah?"

— "I love you..."

— "I love You too..."

Here it is! I'm sorry if it wasn't what you wanted. I really tried my best

I'm so happy to be the first to do an Abel x reader, I love him so much! I want to hug him and never let him go 💖

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Halloween Decor Pikmin

Debut: Pikmin Bloom

Halloween may be over, not to come for another year... but you know what rhymes with year? FEAR! Heh heh... mischief lingers on the air!

Pikmin Bloom focuses on walking and collecting Pikmin wearing all sorts of fun and silly and cute costumes (except for the freeloaders with stickers on their heads), so of course this includes Halloween costumes! What better way to pressure you into spending money than with limited-time events? Don't worry, though, you can tell I'm not a shill because I'm posting this the day all of these STOP being available. If you want to collect them, then wait 11 months, I guess? Sorry! But these Halloween costumes include some of my favorites, so I would like to share them all with you here!

JACK-O'-LANTERN PIKMIN

The very first Halloween Pikmin to be added to the game, and suitably iconic! There is a delightful amount of variety here! No two have the same carved face or QUITE the same color of pumpkin. The most conventional face- the one worn by Rock Pikmin- isn't even the expected orange, but a green pumpkin!

My personal favorite, though, is Purple, whose eyes fit so well into the carved holes, and who has a spooky stitch- or skull-like mouth! Immediately, this one in particular stands out, thanks not only to that, but also to the stark white of its pumpkin!

Are you thinking pumpkins are much too large to be worn by Pikmin? Because if you are, you're correct. Don't Worry About It

HALLOWEEN TREAT PIKMIN

Now THIS one may be my favorite decor set in the entire game! The pumpkins were very nice, but wowza! Treats are the reason for the season, and here treats are! All decorated with that delightful Halloween aesthetic of orange and purple with, of course, plenty of cute monster iconography! Bats, pumpkins, spiderwebs, but most of all, oh ho ho. That happy little ghost with the purple hat? Is it possible for something to be TOO delightful? It isn't, but if it was, that ghost would come close!

Once again, Purple is my favorite costume of the bunch, thanks to its showcasing of the ghost, but I also love the purple icing rim, and the spiderweb pattern! Rock is actually a more appealing-looking cupcake to me, though, with bright orange icing and multicolored sprinkles, spooky dripping chocolate, and a very nice purple gradient wrapper. They remind me of the cupcakes my orthodontist used to give out around Halloween, and I love expanding Halloween treats beyond just candy! Both cupcakes are delightful. Even if muffins are better! Autumn Tip: eat a pumpkin muffin. It will make you Smile!

Aside from the cupcakes I do love Red here. A little bag of decorated cookies! For Pikmin, it's safe to be concealed in a plastic bag, as long as your leaf is sticking out so you can breathe. HUMANS THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO YOU! If you plan on going in a bag, please make it a Burlap Sack! *hops in a sack down to the next paragraph*

HALLOWEEN LIGHT PIKMIN

Finally, the most recent Halloween Pikmin! I really hope new ones are a yearly tradition, and there's not yet any reason to think they won't be! These ones are all wearing lights, which is #SafetySmart of them. Maybe not Red, who has an actual exposed flame, but that's ok! Red Pikmin are heat-resistant, and the elemental traits are indeed carried over to Bloom in smaller ways. However, Red should be careful around the others who are all liable to being Burnt To A Crisp!

I may be predictable, but that's ok. Yellow is the Big Winner for me this year thanks to its Goofy Cute Ghost light, which, going by its animations, is actually alive somehow! Maybe it's the Yellow Pikmin's electrical ability moving it around... but I don't think that would make a seemingly inanimate object blink its eyes.

My second favorite here is Blue, who looks kind of terrified in there, but is having fun! I love the spider decoration, especially since it has four eyes, but that fake spider had better be careful. There's fake fire nearby!

And so we have reached the end of our one last little Halloween treat! Which Halloween Pikmin is your favorite? What did YOU dress as, if you had a costume? See you later :]

[samsalami66]

Don't Go Kicking My Heart

Another part of the soccer au, it is time for fluff and trauma! Enjoy!!

Read on ao3!

Today was the first day of a new era. A new age of football.

The world of sports would remember this day. 

The day Morpheus Ateleios, winner of the European Golden Shoe, first played for Fiddler’s Green, the highest ranking football club in all of Europe. 

Or, well, the day he first trained with them. His first match was still far off, the next season only started in a few months after all, but today was his first day as a part of the team. He would face the players for the first time not on opposite sides of a field, but as a teammate. 

Morpheus was about to be sick, standing in front of these unfamiliar training facilities in the middle of London, miles away from Wych Cross and Roderick’s now cold and dead body. The distance wasn’t enough. No distance could make up for the ache he still felt in his bones, in his muscles, for the bruises slowly healing on his back and chest. 

But thinking about the ghost of Roderick Burgess still being imprinted on his skin was not what really got to Morpheus’ stomach. 

No, it was the fact that he would face Robert Gadling for the first time as a colleague. A part of the team. 

Gadling was… well, to say Morpheus and him did not get along would probably be an understatement. They had a bit of a turbulent history. 

Said history might have involved red cards for both of them during their latest match, following a disagreement they had decided to solve with fists rather than words. 

It hadn’t been one of his proudest moments. 

There was just something about Gadling, something that set him off in the worst way possible. Morpheus wasn’t a pleasant person to be around, he’d admit, but Gadling would stare at him with such distaste, it felt entirely unwarranted. Jessamy would say it was jealousy, because Morpheus was clearly the better player between the two of them. But who knew, perhaps the Fiddlers’ star player was simply a homophobic asshole, like so many others in this sport. Maybe Roderick had a point when he said that nobody would want to play with him or share a locker room if they knew about him, about his fantasies. 

Perhaps he had been right to announce them to the world.

But god, was he really about to walk into a locker room full of people who would rather have him dead than anywhere near them? Would they refuse to undress before him, just like the Riggers had done? And what would Gadling do to him in the privacy of a training facility, where there was no referee to step between them, no cameras pointed in their direction? 

Fuck, all of this had been a terrible idea. He should leave, should tell Gilbert that he simply couldn’t play for this club, that he would have to find another player, that there was simply too much antagony and hatred and-

“You alright there, mate?” A voice, all too familiar, sounded from behind him. Morpheus couldn’t help the yelp that escaped his lips at the sudden appearance of Robert Gadling right in his personal space. He had been too caught up in his thoughts and didn’t even notice that the other man had approached him. It took every ounce of self-control Morpheus possessed to school his face back into something less terrified as he turned towards his old rival. 

“Why do you care?” He replied, venom dripping from his words. All it earned him was a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, you look like you’re walking to your death sentence. Mind, I don’t actually know what you’re doing here, of all places, but I’m pretty sure the death penalty was abolished in 1969 over here in the UK.” Robert Gadling looked thoughtful for a moment, one hand coming up to scratch at his beard, and Morpheus was left to stare at him. None of this answered his question. “Unless you committed treason of course, the death penalty for that was abolished in 1998 I think. Not that it matters much, both are in the past now, but the more you know!”

There was a moment of silence after Gadling stopped talking, one in which Morpheus contemplated if he should pinch himself for the unlikely reason that this was all a dream. Though surely not even his brain could come up with such impossible scenarios all on its own. After all, he knew nothing about English history. 

Perhaps if he didn’t answer, the other man would leave. 

But no such luck. Robert Gadling was not fazed by his silence. 

“Not a fan of history, eh? Fair enough, I guess it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea.” Gadling winked at him then, and Morpheus decided that perhaps pinching himself wasn’t the worst idea after all. A stab of pain shot up his arm, but, again, no luck. This really was no elaborate nightmare. Gadling was talking to him. “How about a joke, then? Something to wipe that mopey look off your face?”

He did not wait for Morpheus’ answer. He would not have gotten one anyway, but it was still rude. 

“Why’s Cinderella bad at football?” Morpheus was dreading the answer to this question more than he had dreaded entering the facilities in the first place. Robert Gadling waited for a moment, if for dramatics or simply to torture him, Morpheus didn’t know.

“Because she lost her shoe and ran away from the ball!” 

It was an awful joke. Really, it might be in the top ten of the worst jokes Morpheus had ever heard. And yet, he felt the familiar feeling of laughter bubbling up from deep within him, a sort of hysteria he simply couldn’t control, couldn’t stop as it was about to simply burst from his chest. 

Perhaps it was the whole situation that made him hysterical, the stress of the past few days that came crashing down on him that had sent him into delirium. Or, maybe, he simply wasn’t very sane to begin with.

Morpheus tried desperately to clasp a hand over his mouth in order to stop the horrible noise from escaping his lips, but it was a futile attempt. Waves of laughter shook his body and the sound, only slightly muffled by his hand, spilled into the air between him and Robert Gadling. 

Morpheus knew that his laugh was horrible. Back at school people had held their ears whenever he laughed, much later people had simply asked him to stop whenever he couldn’t catch himself in time. Roderick had had the cane. But Gadling did not do any of those things. 

Gadling was simply… looking. He looked… amused? Fond, perhaps? Morpheus couldn’t really see through the tears that were building in his eyes as he tried to calm down. But he had to be imagining things, nobody had ever looked fond when confronted with his joy. And Gadling… Gadling hated him.

Didn’t he? 

“Looked like you needed that.” he said, tone warm, and Morpheus wasn’t too sure about it anymore. “Come on, I’ll bring you wherever you need to go. And call me Hob, yeah? My friends usually do.”

Robert Gadling clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Morpheus had never felt so unsteady on his feet or in his world-view. 

It was minutes later that the two of them entered the training facilities of Fiddler’s Green, Gadling chattering away at Morpheus’ side as if they were old friends. He talked about anything and everything, topics seemingly unrelated to one another, though somehow Morpheus managed to keep up with the jumps in his stories. How he went from a camping trip the team went on last month to when he went fishing with his father when he was younger, to the anatomy of grasshoppers they had presumably used for fishing, and the physical differences between grasshoppers and crickets. 

It was weirdly familiar, so similar to how his own brain worked. Though he could never verbalise his thoughts like this, without overthinking every single word. Gadling didn’t particularly seem to care if he could keep up, just kept talking and gesturing as they walked. 

It was… calming. Morpheus found himself hoping that he didn’t stop any time soon. 

But, of course, they had a destination. And once they reached it, Gadling slowly came to a stop in his rambling. Before them were the doors to the locker rooms, through which Morpheus heard voices, broken up by laughter, louder than he had ever experienced a locker room to be at Fawney Rig. 

The Riggers hadn’t talked much to one another. Certainly hadn’t laughed together.

“Right, Gilbert should be with the other guys. Do you want me to get him or come inside?”

Considerate. Morpheus wished he didn’t have to go into this room. But there was no point, if he was supposed to work and play with these men in the future. 

“I would come in, if you don’t mind.” 

God, Morpheus hated how small his voice sounded. Gadling must be aware of what he was actually asking. The question Would you allow someone like me into your changing rooms? hidden somewhere between the lines. But the other man simply raised an eyebrow at him, smiled fondly and held the door open for him. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.”

Morpheus remembered very clearly how the Riggers had once asked him to come inside the locker rooms after Roderick had outed him, just to close and lock the door in his face. 

It had been three years since he last stepped foot into a shared locker room. And Robert Gadling invited him, his rival, inside with a smile. 

Morpheus hoped the tears stinging in his eyes weren’t too obvious.

As they entered, member after member turned to look at them with an air of surprise and curiosity. One of them, blond, American, and with a devastatingly handsome smile, whistled and waggled his eyebrows in Gadling’s direction. 

“Did you finally have the guts to talk to Mister Dreamy without starting a fight, Robbie?”

When Morpheus turned to look at the other man, he could see that his tanned skin turned red around his cheeks, all the way up to his ears. Huh, Morpheus hadn’t known that Gadling felt embarrassment over their common disagreements on the field. He had always seemed very confident in his anger.

“Shut it, Cori. He’s here to talk to Gilbert.”

Just as Gadling said it, the man in question looked up from some papers he had been studying, with a smile spreading over his face. “Oh, Mister Ateleios!” Gilbert stood quickly to offer him his hand, which Morpheus took without much hesitation. The coach of Fiddler’s Green was a homely man, soft and welcoming in every way Roderick hadn’t been. “It’s wonderful to have you, son, just wonderful! I’m glad to see you’ve found your way just fine.” 

Morpheus couldn’t remember when someone had last called him son. Perhaps when he had last seen his parents… some six-odd years ago. Though, honestly, his father had stopped calling him son long before that. It made a part deep within him ache to hear it again, from a stranger nonetheless. But he couldn’t get emotional in front of all these people, not now, so he forced a smile and a nod, and hoped his voice didn’t break when he answered. 

“Yes, Mister Gadling was kind enough to lead the way. I am honoured to be here.”

The elder man patted his shoulder, fatherly, and Morpheus was a hair’s breadth away from breaking down. 

“Glad Robert could make himself useful at least, when he’s already never on time.” Gadling pouted at that, but didn’t otherwise react. Such a statement from Roderick would have had the entire room cowering in fear. But these men weren’t afraid. It was strange, but at the same time filled Morpheus with hope that this perhaps wasn’t a huge mistake. “And now that you two are here as well, it’s time for the big announcement, wouldn’t you say?”

Gilbert hadn’t warned the team of him? With all their history? Either the man had incredible trust in his men or he didn’t care much about Morpheus’ physical well-being.

Morpheus was about to be sick after all. 

“What’s the announcement, boss?” a raven-haired man asked from their right, curiosity in his voice. Or was it mistrust?

“Well, boys, Mister Ateleios here approached me a few weeks ago, asking to become a part of the team. And I signed him on, of course. He will take Paul’s place, since his spot opened up with the end of last season.” 

Morpheus closed his eyes, preparing himself for protest, for judgement, for insults. All of it would be reasonable, and he wasn’t stupid enough to hope for a better reaction. He had landed Gadling in hospital once, for Christ’s sake. He would be lucky if nobody resorted to violence in the face of what must feel like betrayal from their coach-

“Oh fuck yeah, we will kick ass this season with Morpheus on our team!”

Gadling’s excited voice cut through the silence like a knife through butter, and suddenly the whole room erupted into cheers. Hands found his shoulders and back, patting them with enthusiasm as Morpheus blinked his eyes open in surprise. The men were smiling at him, not a hint of malevolence in any of their faces. Robert Gadling was practically vibrating with excitement, his eyes shining like those of a child at Christmas. Nobody had ever looked at Morpheus like that, like his presence was a thing to look forward to. 

It would change, surely. They were happy to have his skills on their time, were looking forward to a successful season. That was all. 

It would change. 

Morpheus was sure of it. 

- - - 

The next day, Morpheus was the first ready for training. He was early, really. Dreadfully early. When Roderick said training started at eight, he had expected the team to show up at six at the latest. But apparently the Fiddlers were less inclined to begin a day so early. 

No matter, a few extra hours would not do him any harm. 

He could warm up already, set up a few exercises. Perhaps it would reflect on his conviction to be a valuable player for the team, so they would perhaps forgive his lack of character. 

It was as good a plan as ever. 

He started off with stretching his legs and feet, before moving onto his arms and neck. It was calming, to spend some minutes in tranquil silence, simply feeling the muscles in his body stretch and loosen for the day ahead. Just as he was about to start his last set of stretches, a voice came from the side of the field, which almost caused him to strain his neck with how fast he turned around to look at the source. 

Of course, it was Gadling. 

“Did you hear about the team whose back four was only two fullbacks?”

That. Didn’t make any sense. What was that supposed to mean? Had he been supposed to do preparations for today’s training? Research the teams they would be playing? Gods, if he had already missed such a vital task on his second day they would never tolerate him, they would put him on the bench and find a different player, they-

“Apparently they're double stuffed.”

It was another joke. A pun. A horrible, terrible, awful pun. 

Morpheus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, half-delirious, his heart beating so fast in his chest he felt a bit faint. 

He hadn’t misstepped. No reason for punishment. He was okay. 

Except that he was laughing, freely, before Robert Gadling. 

He really had to get a grip on himself. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the laughter in, couldn’t stop, not even when tears were running down his cheeks and his stomach felt like he had done a hundred situps. 

Gadling was smiling when he came closer, as he seemed to do so very often since they had met in front of the facility. He sat down next to him, mirroring his current position, and Morpheus couldn’t help but smile back at him as they began to stretch together, Gadling once again regaling him with stories and anecdotes and seemingly random facts. 

It was nice. 

Morpheus had absolutely no idea how to deal with it. But he decided to simply accept it for what it was. 

- - - 

On Saturdays, the Fiddlers met for drinks. 

It was an unspoken rule, a tradition, and Morpheus had been invited during that first week of training with the team. Therefore, it was important to leave a positive impression. 

He arrived, dressed in a tux and carrying a bottle of wine, at the address Gadling had sent him. It was… not a real restaurant, nor another place he recognised. It didn’t seem to be a place where any of the other players lived either. The sign on the front of the building read The New Inn and from inside Morpheus could hear the same laughter and joy he had come to associate with the locker rooms of Fiddler’s Green. 

They were a loud bunch, almost irritatingly so, if it weren’t for the warmth their company provided. Spending time with them was easier than it had ever been with the Riggers. 

Upon entering Morpheus was greeted with cheers and whistles, and he realised very quickly that he was immensely overdressed. The team sat around a large table towards the side of the room, dressed in jeans, t-shirts and hoodies (except Ken and Cori, those two technically wore shirts, though Morpheus was not entirely sure that they could really qualify as such with how little they were covering.). Gadling sported a fading band-tee about two sizes too large and sweat-pants.

Gods above, Morpheus would stick out like a sore thumb. Why had nobody told him about the dress-code?

“Looking good, Dreamy!” Cori called over the cheers, a grin on his face. “Dress to impress! Robbie will look dreadfully underdressed next to you.”

The man in question kicked Cori underneath the table. 

“Ow! What, it’s not my fault you roll from your couch upstairs right down to drinks night!” 

The tips of Gadling’s ears turned red at the other man’s words, and Morpheus almost felt the need to defend him. After all, it was his being overdressed, not Gadling being undressed, that was the faux-pas here. 

But in the spirit of good impressions Morpheus simply sat down on the free chair next to Gadling and placed the bottle of wine on the table. It was immediately nicked by Mervyn, an appreciative whistle leaving his lips as he read the label. “Good stuff, Dreamy. Cheers!”

That nickname, twice already this evening. Morpheus wasn’t entirely sure if it existed to make fun of him or was simply a thing these people did. It had been there since day one, and apparently the team wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. It… did not bother Morpheus too much. He had never had a nickname. Roderick had only ever called him Morpheus, and he had only ever said it with hatred, disappointment or cold detachment. Never with humour, joy or fondness, had never used it to tease him. 

“Why did the winger miss the match?”

Gadling’s voice, quiet and right next to his ear, quickly pulled Morpheus out of his thoughts. It was a question. Had he missed a part of the conversation? Was he supposed to answer? Or, no, it wasn’t another one, was it…?

“He was busy chasing ball.” 

Oh, fuck, it was another one of Gadling’s horrible, god-awful puns. That was it. Proof that Gadling hated him, had just been nice to him to gain some twisted sort of amusement. Morpheus knew the laughter was coming this time, knew he was helpless against it bubbling up in his throat. He didn’t want to face the whole team as they were subjected to his laugh. Surely they would tell him to stop, to keep quiet, to leave the inn, laugh at him. 

But there was no helping it. With his face hidden behind his hands, Morpheus allowed the sound to spill over and mix with the laughter around them. Seconds passed by, and the noise around him did not stop. Conversations continued, drinks were drunk, and nobody seemed to react at all. 

Ever so slowly, Morpheus dared to raise the hands from his face and to peek into the group of people around him. 

Nobody was batting an eye. 

Stunned, and more than a little confused, Morpheus let his hands drop to his lap. Beside him, Gadling was nursing his beer, almost as if he hadn’t just tried to embarrass him in front of the entire team. Or… perhaps he really hadn’t tried to. Nobody was laughing at him after all. Nobody was shouting at him to keep quiet or to go outside. 

Almost as if it were okay for him to just… be. 

- - - 

About a month later, Morpheus sat in his apartment on his day off. A Sunday. The first of the month. 

It was a quiet day, warm and sunny and the only sounds were the birds chirping outside.

That was, until someone decided it would be a brilliant idea to abuse his doorbell. Probably some reporter, or an obnoxious fan. They would get bored soon. Very soon. 

Ten minutes later, the doorbell was still ringing and Morpheus had had enough. 

“Gamo to kerato sou. People nowadays have zero respect for privacy.”

Morpheus was ready to yell at whoever was standing behind the door, scare them off so they would never show their face here ever again. 

But behind the door was Gadling. And Cori. And Matthew and Mervyn and John and Ken and… even Gilbert was there. Gadling was holding a cake in his hands. Self-made, by the looks of it. 

The frosting read Happy One Month Anniversary!

Morpheus was about to cry. 

He couldn’t help it. He rushed forward, right into the arms of Robert Gadling. Because this must have been his idea, insufferable, incredible man that he was. Considerate. God, he was always so considerate. Cheering him up with stupid puns every single day, forcing him to relax, to trust, to breathe, to be. 

Forcing Morpheus to enjoy his company. Seek it out even. He didn’t do hugs. And yet, here he was. 

“Thank you, Hob.” he whispered, so only Hob could hear. The arms around him tightened, and the other man pressed his cheek against his own. 

“Anytime, Dream.”

[trans-queen-administrator]

Hey, can I hear about your shatterbird thoughts? She's always been my favourite member of the nine :]

[@faultlinescrew]

Oh I'm about to type for entirely too long.

Alright so a chunk of this is kinda headcanon, but any of that is fully based on canon. I had a giant fanfic planned that was literally an expanded telling of Shatterbird's life from trigger to death, and some plot points there may bleed into this unconsciously.

Number one favorite thing about Shatterbird is that initially, she did nothing wrong. She was unwillingly dosed with a Cauldron vial, and her scream and subsequent exploding of Dubai wasn't her fault. She had no intention to hurt anyone, it was done entirely out of her control as she gained powers and she should not be blamed for her first time destroying a city. The thing is, that doesn't matter in universe. She's still going to be hunted down by countless capes because she killed an untold number of people with that scream. No one's going to just let her go because it wasn't her fault, because she's the only person who can be blamed. People want revenge for their loved ones, and I'm willing to bet that she had a sizable bounty. It's similar to the situation we see with Rachel, where she can't have a normal life because she killed someone in her trigger and her identity is public, but on a much much larger scale.

I think the guilt ate at her so fucking bad at first. She killed her dad, her friends, her sister, her mother, countless others, and as much as it wasn't her fault she's still the one that did it. There's no way she doesn't blame herself for what happened, but when does she even have time to mourn? She's fled to a desert, she's gotta be struggling with food and water, and she's being hounded at every turn by people who want her dead. What's she supposed to do, let them kill her so she can atone for what she did or something?

I just love what a tragic backstory this is. She's one of the most horrible people we meet in canon, and I don't think it's unreasonable to say she has one of the highest body counts on Earth Bet, but she started as someone innocent and desperately trying to survive. And as much as I love this backstory and will defend to the death that she did nothing wrong at this point, it doesn't excuse who she becomes.

Shatterbird laughed.  “There’s only two ways to recover from something of that magnitude, to deal with the fact that you inadvertently killed thousands and thousands of people, and hospitalized twice that many.  You break, or you become it.”

(quote is from the missing interlude)

This is the quote that puts her entire character in a nutshell. The biggest question to me is... when did she become it? She implies in that interlude that it was rather quick, and that she went to Britain so she could hit a big target, but the Tattletale clone calls this out as a lie. She was running, the desert that she'd been in for months was unbearably loud with all that sand, and I think she was sick of living on the run. She wanted society, structure, something to make her feel human. I think she's full of shit saying she went there to destroy it, some accident or desperate confrontation occurred (timeline fits well enough for it to be a result of the Simurgh's attack, but that's just one possibility) and she broke London just as bad as she broke Dubai. What do you even do from there? Any slim hope of clearing her name is gone, she just has to keep running and try to ignore the guilt. And she ran to America, where the Slaughterhouse Nine found her.

The recruiting of people by the Slaughterhouse Nine fascinates me, because most are unwilling to join at first. Unfortunately the alternative is to die. No one in Brockton Bay was jumping to be the lucky winner, and the only people we know nominated themselves are Cherish and I think Siberian. Shatterbird (ever notice how she's the only S9 member with no canon first name? drives me nuts) was dragged into the recruitment process with no say in the matter just like most everyone is. Someone in the Nine found her, thought she would be a good fit because of London and Dubai (and how would that feel, to have someone on the S9 see you as just as bad as them?) and even if she explains that was on accident... what does it matter? It never matters that it was an accident. It never will matter. It's just something that she can tell herself to keep her sane.

So she's doing the fun little tests, I'm actually very curious how she altered herself for Mannequin's since he always does the same test, she's a very vain person, but that's off topic. Atrocities, horrors, being hunted by the Siberian, and suddenly she's at the end. Her and someone else.

“That’s not really a test,” Shatterbird spoke, “There hasn’t been a round of testing since I joined the group where we didn’t whittle it down to one candidate.” “We could forego the final test, pitting them against one another.” Shatterbird turned to him, “Ah.  But, again, the last test where we had to go that far was… mine?”

And she kills them. Dubai, London, those were accidents. This was on purpose, maybe even the first time she's done it on purpose. She could either break and decide she couldn't live with herself as a member of the nine, or she could just as horrible as everyone sees her. All her choices were rigged, there was never much of an opportunity to get better since so many paths closed off to her, but she voluntarily chooses to get worse. What's the point in holding on to the fact that it wasn't her fault at the beginning? She's never escaping what she did, so she'll become the monster everyone sees her as. You break, or you become it.

And there's not much of the more sympathetic side of Shatterbird in canon (partly because her backstory chapter was removed). She's fully embraced herself as a mass murderer. She revels in the attention, the fear. She parrots Jack's philosophy as a way to feel better about what she's doing, and eventually she doesn't need to feel better because she enjoys who she is now.

I don't know, I rambled for a while there but it boils down to me being fascinated by the circumstances of her gaining powers, and the shift from innocent but hated/feared to making damn sure that fear is justified.

Ok, so moving on from the backstory analysis, other miscellaneous details. Fuck it, I'm putting every thought I have on Shatterbird in this post.

She's the Nine's primary recruiter! Woo, good for her. Notably, she recruits Burnscar. Mimi is in a similar position to Shatterbird's past self with the whole involuntary mass destruction, although on a lesser scale (it'll always be on a lesser scale, Shatterbird has the worst trigger event out there in terms of consequences and she didn't even trigger). Mimi was on the streets and trying not to use her power, and Shatterbird scooped her up into the Nine.

“I- before I knew it, the Slaughterhouse Nine had found me.  Shatterbird recruited me.  And now I’m stuck.  I’m trapped.  You know there’s a kill order out on me?  If I try to quit, either the Nine or the cops will off me.  So I keep going, I work for them, and it all just gets worse.”

It's a situation Shatterbird can very likely relate to, but she's perpetuating it and making Mimi suffer like she did. No sympathy, no helping someone get through it and avoid the pitfalls she fell into, she's dragging other people down with her like a crab in a pot. Worth noting that I believe she's still bitter about the hand she was dealt even if she's embraced where it led her to, she remembers how horrible it was to be forced into everything and she does not care if she inflicts it on others.

But if someone else willingly joins the Nine, she takes it personally. Cherie says Shatterbird hates her, and that's because Cherie chooses the life Shatterbird was locked into. She's bitter that she never had that choice, and so she makes sure Cherie understands what it's like by chasing her for days for her test, not allowing any rest or sleep. However, this could also simply because Cherie sucks and is an unpleasant person to talk to, and Shatterbird is stuck-up.

Another thing I like is Shatterbird's appearance of knowledge and elegance. She's trying to appear put together, confident, in-control, and to be fair she does a pretty good job, her costume and theming are great. But under that is someone violent and angry, she's keeping up appearances to everyone else but also to herself. The fact that she's always trying to keep up appearances, even when locked in a room and doomed to die with one Witness (haha get it) she's trying to make it look like she was calm and in control when her body is found, is what 100% convinces me exploding Britain was an accident. The Tattletale clone calls her out, and to me it seems like another attempt to seem in control by framing it as deliberate.

Anyway, my attempts to woobify a mass murderer aside, I also like that she was a spoiled rich kid before all this and her prim asshole attitude points to that. She quotes Edgar Allen Poe, she reads because it makes her feel better than others, she's just so pretentious and unpleasant and to be clear I love this as a character trait, it's fun and leads to her speaking in overdramatic ways.

“Then you should know, nearly-Tattletale, that I’ve spent too long in the company of monsters to be scared by words.”

She thinks she was soooo cool saying that.

I also want to look at the last few weeks of her life. She spends so much effort propping herself up as great and in control, only to be locked in a box and puppeted around against her will. Genuinely I cannot think of anything more humiliating and agonizing for her to endure. She has nothing to do but think as she's used as a marionette.

She had a long time to reflect on her life, to look back at how she got here and what she regrets.

But I think she spent it stewing in her rage, itching and planning to get violent revenge and keep hurting others to be respected. She's unwilling and unable to go back, she'll double down on this forever because this is who she is now. And because 99% of characterization for Shatterbird isn't in Worm anyway, I may as well toss in this minor AU summary by Wildbow. If she escaped, she would have started her own version of the Nine with Damsel of Distress and Trickster. There is nothing left to sympathize with or redeem Shatterbird by the time we see her in canon, she's simply past that point. Side note but Shatterbird + Damsel of Distress + Trickster as a team is perhaps the funniest combo ever and I really wish those 3 fuckers got to interact in canon. Weirdo assholes who dress up fancy and have a taste for theatrics as a murder crew, we were robbed.

I could analyze the Hookwolf interlude but I don't want to. I'm very annoyed that Shatterbird (still no first name) is the only member of the Nine to lose the fight against her recruit instead of appearing terrifying and unstoppable. How come Burnscar can solo Faultline's crew but 3 nazis can take out Shatterbird, who has way more experience? It's pretty uncomfortable to have the only member of the Nine who isn't white be the one that loses to nazis, while one calls her a slur in his internal monologue, in the interludes where everyone else on her team is introduced as a force of nature. I think we should just collectively agree to make this interlude not canon and un-retcon the Witness interlude. While I'm on the topic it's also a bit questionable to have Sophia and Shatterbird (no first name. I am annoyed by this) as the only named capes puppeted by Regent?

But that's not the topic I wanna explore. The topic is that Shatterbird is a great character and I wish that she had depth in the story itself rather than scattered through 20 different sources, because she's legitimately my favorite non-undersider in the story. There is a lot of potential to explore her, one could interpret her backstory in a less charitable way than I did just for an example, and I really think she's neat! She takes hurting someone in an accident and then becoming the monster people see her as, something we see a few times throughout worm, to its ultimate conclusion in terms of scale. That alongside her outer layer of intellectualism and pretentiousness, which I'm a massive sucker for as a trait, and she's just perfect. Did nothing wrong (citation needed). I love her and I do hope that at least some of the stuff written her makes someone appreciate her character more.

Ok! That was... 2.2k words about Shatterbird (no first name). Woo! If some stuff seems inconsistent between paragraphs here, it's probably because I wrote this in chunks over the course of a few weeks and my feelings at the time can influence my interpretation of things and my writing to feel different when read all at once and compared. If you think I'm woobifying her too much, cool. I think it makes her more compelling to examine how much we know was her fault and how much she shouldn't be blamed for, and making her have less agency makes her more tragic which I always like. If you actually read this to the end, thank you! Have a nice day!

[tamlinweek]

A little Suriel told us that you all are looking forward to getting the 2025 Tamlin Week prompts and we are here to deliver.

In The Suriel article above, all fourteen prompts (two per day) are hidden within the text. Let’s see if our clever Tamlin community can come together and uncover the hidden themes. We’ll also give you a hint: some prompts have combined wording.

Let us know in the comments what you think it is! We’ll be keeping an eye on your progress and adding to the tally 😉

We’ll reveal the official prompt list in one week.

PROMPTS UNCOVERED: 11/14

Below the cut, you will find a text version of the article for easier readability.

CHANGING SEASONS PROMPTS THE BEGINNING OF SPRING PREPARATIONS

By THE SURIEL

Artisans from far and wide have been seen crossing over into the Spring Court to prepare for the upcoming celebrations. As is tradition, and part of the Court’s Great Mythology, every Spring Equinox, the Great Rite must be performed by High Lord Tamlin. It is also tradition to spend the entire week before showing appreciation for all the Flower Prince has done for his people (and for blessing our eyes, oh yes). Creatures and faeries from every corner of Prythian are invited to worship the Mother and feed the powers of our land.

I remember when I was but a little fate-mite, a whirling ball of magic rolling across the land. Prythian was not as it was today, especially in this flourishing Court. Once upon a time, in Dark Spring, we begged the Mother for forgiveness in hopes not to be annihilated on the spot. Shout out to my brother, the Turiel. You were the worst, and I’ll always remember that.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

Over the course of the coming months, we expect the Spring Court to change and flourish right before our eyes. We expect a mass migration of celebrants, some hoping to secure lodging before all the inns are booked up, and the molehills are overflowing with guests. 

We’d also like to clarify in light of last year’s spy debacle that the human was not a from an alternate universe, but just a quirky new addition to our handsome High Lord’s polycule alongside Feyre, Lucien, Rhysand, Elain, Nesta, Azriel, Cassian, Beron, Eris, Jurian, and many more. For legal reasons, we are magically bound to say that it is possible that these famous faces may only share platonic relationships with High Lord Tamlin.

We’re also looking forward to this year’s performance from Tamlin’s warband. We are still reeling from the addition of fire breathers—what a beautiful way to integrate Spring Court emissary Lucien Vanserra’s heritage. 

If you or anyone you know is planning to spend your free days in Spring, The Suriel is continuously updating our collection of High Lord sightings. There can never be enough portraits of Tamlin’s glossy golden hair, his rippling muscles, and don’t you just want to take a bite out of his luscious chest—Sorry, sorry, our sprouts, we are getting ahead of ourselves, but sharing is caring, after all.

Stay tuned for more updates on Spring Court, and our favourite High Lord, Tamlin!

THE SURIEL is a Prythian Publishing Prize winner for several centuries in a row. They have been reporting the nation’s hottest celebrity news since the beginning of time, long before the lands had names. They currently reside in the Spring Court. If you have tea to spill, and for any advertising requests, sacrifice your freshest chicken in the Western Forest. The Suriel also responds to scenes of egging Beron’s house.

[suzukiblu]

Winner of the "🤔❓️" poll: "🐈‍⬛️🎀😳", which means one last round of "stray cat strut". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

But either way, no one in this crowd is going to be adopting a rescue pet with no pedigree and nowhere near the aesthetic appeal of a Bernese mountain dog or a Great Pyrenees or a Siamese or Persian, much less an exotic pet like a harlequin macaw or the definitely-not-legally-obtained grand cayman blue iguana the Wallens have been carting around to every possible event of the past six months. Especially when most of the rescue’s pets aren’t any “prettier” than a calico or a golden retriever and definitely would not be any kind of status symbol to own. There isn’t a single pet at this event outside of the rescue’s that wasn’t bought from either a breeder or a poacher, Tim’s sure, which is . . . ironic, he’ll just say. 

And also hugely hypocritical and frankly an insult to the entire purpose of the event. 

But that’s what it takes to get donations in Gotham, so he can’t blame the rescue for playing the game. 

Tim just really doesn’t like how a lot of people treat their pets, especially in high society. And, of course, high society can afford all the pets it wants, ethically-sourced or not. 

Ugh. 

Even if he didn’t care about that kind of thing at all, though, Damian’s much more interested in pets than he is, even though he doesn’t actually have any of his own. Tim is pretty sure half of his chaperone responsibilities today are really just going to be making sure Damian doesn’t try to bring home a puppy or five while Bruce is distracted with the “Brucie” act. 

An animal puppy would be one thing, obviously–Damian already has Titus and Alfred the cat, after all, and still insists on regularly visiting Bat-Cow in South Dakota to check up on her and how she’s doing, and also there’s the whole . . . whatever’s going on with Goliath, Tim really doesn’t know what’s going on with Goliath–but a pet puppy . . . 

Yeah, Bruce definitely doesn’t want any pets in the manor. 

Not great for keeping a lid on the secret identities, that. 

After all, pets talk.

[ginxyy]

Midnight with laughter and chaos

The living room was alive with chaos. Snacks were scattered across the coffee table, a pile of board games sat precariously in the corner, and the sounds of competitive yelling filled the air. Seungkwan was in the middle of the room, standing dramatically as he pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“There is absolutely no way that’s allowed!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in mock outrage.

You crossed your arms, smirking. “The rules clearly say I can use that card. You’re just mad because I’m winning.”

“Winning?” Seungkwan scoffed, turning to the others for backup. “They’re cheating! Someone back me up here!”

Hoshi, sprawled on the floor with a half-empty bag of chips, shook his head. “Don’t drag me into this. You’re on your own.”

Seungkwan gasped, clutching his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “Fine. If no one’s on my side, I’ll just have to beat you fair and square.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, sliding your next card into place on the board.

The group erupted into laughter as Seungkwan scrambled to figure out his next move, muttering under his breath about “suspicious rules” and “biased opponents.”

Eventually, the game ended—unsurprisingly with you as the winner—and Seungkwan spent a good five minutes dramatically bemoaning his loss before finally accepting defeat.

“You’re lucky I’m a forgiving person,” he said, pouting as he grabbed another handful of popcorn.

“Forgiving? You’ve been holding a grudge against Mingyu for stealing your snacks three months ago,” you pointed out, earning more laughter from the group.

“Okay, first of all, that was justified,” Seungkwan retorted. “Second of all, don’t distract me. I’m talking about how magnanimous I’m being right now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. Seungkwan had a way of making even the smallest moments entertaining, his energy lighting up the entire room.

As the night wore on, the board games were replaced with music and lighthearted conversation, the countdown to midnight drawing closer. Seungkwan eventually found his way to your side, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Exhausted from losing?” you teased, handing him a soda.

“Exhausted from carrying this party on my back,” he replied, taking a sip.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he said, his tone turning playful but his gaze softening.

Before you could respond, someone in the room started the countdown, and the energy shifted.

“Ten… Nine…”

Seungkwan leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You know, this is actually my favorite part of New Year’s Eve.”

“Eight… Seven…”

“What is?” you asked, your heart starting to race.

“Six… Five…”

“The moment right before midnight,” he said, his smile fading into something more genuine. “When everything feels full of possibility.”

“Four… Three…”

You couldn’t look away from him, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a quiet intensity that left you breathless.

“Two… One…”

Before the cheers erupted, Seungkwan leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was surprisingly soft and sweet. The noise around you faded into the background, the moment stretching on as if time itself had paused.

When he pulled back, his cheeks were tinged pink, but his smile was brighter than ever. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Seungkwan,” you replied, your voice barely audible over the celebrations around you.

He reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as the rest of the group burst into another round of laughter and chatter.

“So,” he said, his grin turning mischievous again. “Ready to lose in the next game?”

“You wish,” you shot back, laughing as he tugged you toward the table to start another round.

And as the night continued, filled with laughter, games, and Seungkwan’s constant teasing, you couldn’t imagine a better way to start the new year.

[lordoflucky]

That Albert Harebrayne Analysis I said I was gonna do months ago

So I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on my very unexpected favorite Great Ace Attorney character, Albert Harebrayne. To which I think I’ve found why this character in particular has managed to worm his way into my Top 3 Ace Attorney Characters alongside fan favorites Sebastian Debeste Eustace Winner and Miles Edgeworth. That being, he’s an absolute masterclass in making a supporting character. (This is about 30% analysis of Albert and Barok’s dynamic, 45% analysis of Albert himself, and 25% a secret third thing if you want some expectations.)

Warning: This gets long, I’m talking nearly 5k words long (4.8k. I’m pedantic). For the sake of your dash I recommend opening this in separate tab.

Albert’s Narrative Purpose

If I had to guess at Albert’s primary purpose in the narrative it would be that he exists to support Barok’s arc. Through his presence we see a kinder side to Barok, making him both more sympathetic to the audience, and adding believability to his eventual redemption arc.

However, the exact way Albert does this, while also having his own arc entirely separate from his connection to Barok, is what really makes his character. Albert exists to contrast Barok down to the simplest detail- from character design, to mannerisms, to their core traits and ideals.

Starting at the most superficial, in his key art Albert is drawn with flatter shading and cartoonier proportions compared to Barok’s dramatic shading and more realistic proportions. Albert is made up almost entirely of warm tones and light colors: blond hair, bright white lab coat, pink vest, tan slacks. Barok is in turn drawn primarily with dark colors and cool tones, made up of blacks, greys, and navy. There is also bonus of his purple-ish, blue-ish, grey-ish hair being complimentary, or in other words opposite, to Albert’s yellow blond. From the onset, without knowing anything about Albert’s character or that he has any connection to Barok, it’s clear that the two are inversions of one another.

Moving onto the character himself, Albert has a very distinctive way of speaking. He stutters, repeats himself, and goes off on rambling tangents near constantly. Comparatively, Barok speaks much more precisely. His frequent use of ellipses imply that he’s pausing to choose his words carefully. When he does falter it’s used sparingly- primarily for drama, and occasionally for comedic effect.

This characterization, Albert as flighty and Barok as controlled, continues in their animations. Albert can hardly stay still, and nearly every one of his animations includes constant movement. Either more subtly such as in his angry animation where he occasionally vibrates with fury, or overtly such as in his desperate pleading and excited mad scientist animations. Even in his neutral animation there’s the visual gag of him constantly pushing up his glasses as they fall down after every sentence. All this movement is punctuated by a shuffling sound effect that plays every time he changes poses, presumably trying to draw as much attention to it as possible. While Barok is no stranger to dramatic animations, what crushing glass chalices in his hands and drop kicking the prosecutor’s bench, the majority of Barok’s animations are more subtle. Outside of the courtroom he primarily closes his eyes, crosses his arms, turns his head, opens his eyes, lifts his chin, uncrosses his arms- you get the picture. His animations are extremely contained. Even taking into account his more dramatic courtroom animations, they’re all done with the same nonchalance, slow and flowing. The text box disappears, the story itself is brought to a halt, while it waits for Barok to finish his animations. A harsh contrast to Albert often switching animations multiple times during a single sentence.

These animations are used accentuate their respective main avenues for comedy. Albert as comically expressive, and Barok as comically serious. Most of Albert’s comedy is derived from how he approaches nearly ever situation at the same maximum emotional state. He recounts accidentally forgetting to return spare change to a waiter with the same level of regretful anguish, as he responds to being accused of murder. He even goes as far to say that he deserves to be hanged for that same murder as retribution for... forgetting to return the spare change. He gets so caught up in his own delight at the mere notion that his hypothesis was correct that he gladly incriminates himself on the witness stand. Barok, conversely, typically keeps at the same cynical indifference throughout any given trial. He slowly and deliberately tosses a wine bottle into the gallery behind himself only to claim that his hand slipped, enters the courtroom with his cloak drawn up like Dracula, harbors bats in his own office, and he does all of this without a hint of irony. Both use the same joke of having their emotional reactions be disproportionate to the situation, but reach that result from opposite directions.

This tone often transfers outside of their comedic moments, with Albert’s most common state being high-strung and emotional, while Barok’s is disinterest and apathy, with anger as really the only emotion he openly expresses for the majority of the games. Of course, both break from these states occasionally in order to signal relevant tonal shifts. Moments before Albert confesses to murder he’s resolutely calm and expressionless, warning the audience of what’s to come. The rare moments of Barok showing genuine sincerity, such as his overt gratitude towards Ryunosuke upon Albert’s acquittal, are used to represent major turning points for his character. For both, these “Out of Character” moments further ground them as three-dimensional, while still adhering to Ace Attorney’s exaggerated style of characterization.

Finally, their core traits and ideals. I find the most vital part of understanding Albert is his overwhelming kindness and optimism. Albert fully believes that Asman shares his dream in developing Instantaneous Kinesis, and protects the project not just for his own ego, but because he believes it’s what Asman would have wanted. He clearly states the respect he holds for Drebber as a scientist even after everyone’s assertion that he’s little more than a con-artist; even after it’s established that Drebber planned to frame him from the start. When Ryunosuke implores Albert to trust him and accept his defense, Albert responds by not only empathizing with him as someone who also spent time studying abroad, but by stating he believes a person’s origin has no effect on their ability- a sentiment Ryunosuke has scarcely heard for all his time in London. And of course, there is his fervent belief that Barok is working towards his best interests, despite the doubt voiced by Ryunosuke and Susato, and Barok’s seemingly contradictory behavior.

Personally, I find there is one scene in particular, and it’s follow-up, that best showcases Albert’s kindness. It starts during an intermission in the Defendant’s Lobby, before Albert’s invention has been officially declared a fraud but after Ryunosuke’s arguments have started leaning in that direction. Albert starts by accusing Ryunosuke of undermining him and attempting to discredit his hypothesis. Ryunosuke argues he promised to fight for Albert’s innocence above all else. He reminds Albert that, regardless of the validity of his hypothesis, a man died as consequence- that is what matters. Albert pauses for a moment, taking time to register Ryunosuke’s words, before urgently apologizing for blaming his failures on Ryunosuke. I find this scene best exemplifies Albert’s kindness as it’s not that he is a perfect sweetheart of a person all the time, but rather in the moments when he does mess up- in this case taking out his stress and frustration on an innocent party- he owns up to it the moment he realizes what he’s doing. Not only that, but he follows through on his apology. During the second investigation segment, which takes place the same day, Ryunosuke attempts to apologize for not protecting his invention. Albert refuses the apology instantly, reiterating that it’s his own fault, and that Ryunosuke shoulders no blame.

All of this stands in direct opposition to Barok. There is of course his prejudice, often manifested as his racism towards Ryunosuke, Susato, and Natsume, which also crosses into classism taking into account his treatment of Gina during 1-5. Even outside of that, Barok is wholly defined by his pessimism and distrust of others- his primary character flaw.

Going through this point by point is meant to illustrate that for every trait that Albert embodies, from the most superficial to the most intrinsic parts of his character, the inverse can be found in Barok. Albert exists to humanize Barok, but it’s not as simple as “Barok is kind towards someone, which was a previously unseen side of him,” it is specifically who he is kind to. The fact that Barok sees this person in direct opposition to himself, most importantly in the ways that they approach the world, and declares that person to be laudable, gives hope that Barok has the ability to change for the better. Albert could not have accomplished his role nearly as well had he simply been “Barok’s friend.” By existing in opposition to Barok from a characterization stand point this strengthens his support of Barok’s arc, further establishes the themes of trust integral to Great Ace Attorney’s greater narrative, and allows Albert to be a fully developed character in his own right.

Albert’s Character Arc

After discussing how Albert supports Barok’s arc, now I find it the best time to dissect his own. In between the chaos of 2-3, which is already packed to the brim with plot set-ups, ramifications, and character moments, Albert manages to have his own arc entirely separate from his connection to Barok.

Albert’s arc is centered around the revelation that the dream he was clinging to was ultimately a lie. The people who he trusted were planning to betray him from the start. The moment that was meant to be his dream coming to fruition literally blows up in his face, and what scarce success he finds to hold onto is revealed to be little more than stage magic.

There are two primary factors that lead to Albert’s actions and reactions throughout the case.

Albert genuinely trusted Asman and respected Drebber. He continues to respect Drebber even after the truth is revealed.

Albert cannot personally accept that the dream he spent so much time working towards might’ve been a failure.

The first point I alluded to while discussing Albert’s ideals. Repeatedly throughout the first half of the case he shows great admiration for Asman- he equates Asman visiting his lab to read his a paper to a visit from an angel. He states repeatedly that he must protect the invention that they made together for Asman’s sake. As far as Albert is concerned, Asman genuinely believed in him, and wanted to work alongside him to make Instantaneous Kinesis a reality. He devotes himself entirely to repaying Asman for his generosity; Asman’s ulterior motives, unbeknownst to him.

As for Drebber, the first showcase of Albert’s respect for him comes from the second investigation segment. The previous courtroom segment ended with Ryunosuke declaring that it’s very likely that Asman and/or Drebber were attempting to frame Albert, and two separate members of the jury discoursing on Drebber’s status as a swindler. What follows is Ryunosuke asking Albert if he really had no idea that Drebber was “Just an illusionist”. Albert refutes this by stating that Drebber isn’t just an illusionist. He clearly has a brilliant scientific mind, Albert is certain of that after only one conversation. Ryunosuke makes a comment on Drebber's abilities, which could be called disparaging in only the most harsh interpretation, and Albert still feels the need to correct it. Giving due respect to a man he currently believes is attempting to frame him for murder, as Susato reminds him. And Albert is correct in his assessment of Drebber. In fact, Drebber’s intelligence is a key factor in the case, but Albert would be more than justified in being a bit unkind to Drebber, considering the situation. Yet, he refuses to.

This point, his trust for Asman and Drebber, influences Albert’s action’s somewhat, but the second is the ultimate driving factor. At the end of the first pair of trial segments, following the reveal of Drebber’s true nature, Albert reflects on the recent events. He freely admits it was his own ego and fear that drove him to try to protect the invention. During the turning point when Albert confesses to murder, he considers that punishment preferable to the alternative. Because the alternative, is that he failed.

One line in particular I want to draw attention to he says towards the end of his monologue:

“I never questioned anything. I, I didn't want to question it.”

I feel this line re-contextualizes many of his actions during the trial. He insists, against his own innocence, that the experiment was a success. It was not simply foolish ignorance that led him to defend his hypothesis beyond logic itself; it was instinctive denial- conscious or otherwise.

Now in most Ace Attorney games, Great Ace Attorney included, The Truth is near sacred. many character arcs are centered around the pursuit and acceptance of the truth, never hiding from its uglier sides. It’s better to know the truth than live a lie. Albert is no different. He spends the first half of the case in denial because the truth is too harrowing for him to accept, until he reaches a point where he is forced to confront and accept it for the sake of his own life. By all means, with this revelation, his arc is over. The next step is for him to move forward, always push on despite the hardships, and pursue the glorious truth above all else.

But this is not the end of Albert’s arc. You see, that scene never addresses the root of his insecurity. Why was Albert so opposed to accepting the truth? Why did he go as far as falsely admitting to murder, which at this point is thoroughly established to be punished by death, over accepting the much simpler fact that his hypothesis was flawed and his experiment was sabotaged? He says it himself during his monologue: “I knew that if it was found to be nothing more than a trick […] my whole life would be over!”

The root is that Albert entirely conflates his own person-hood and worth with his success as a scientist. If his hypothesis is a success, then that means he, as a person, is a success. If his hypothesis is a failure, that means he, as a person, is a failure.

This is built up throughout the entirety of the case. When Ryunosuke first introduces himself as a lawyer, Albert launches to ask if he’s here to defend his hypothesis. On the surface, it’s just a simple introductory gag. This is the audience’s first encounter with Albert aside from his appearance in the opening cutscene, and the first interaction with him as an actual character. His whimsically goofy theme kicks in, his glasses fall down to reveal his unintimidating face. How silly, the absent-minded scientist assumes the defense attorney is here to defend his hypothesis and not himself. It’s the obvious joke to make, and it quickly establishes exactly what archetype Albert is meant to embody. But then it keeps happening.

When he pleads with Ryunosuke to trust him, that he would never murder someone, he says: “Do you believe me? Do you believe in my hypothesis?” While berating himself for unfairly taking his frustrations out on Ryunosuke, he says “I'm a disaster! Not just as a scientist, but as a human being!” When he gives his insight on Barok’s behavior, he says: “He believed in me this morning, you know. Barok did. He believed in my hypothesis.”

Nearly every time Albert references himself a mention of his hypothesis and career is not far behind, and vice-versa. As far as he is concerned, believing in him is believing in his hypothesis. Believing in his hypothesis is believing in him. They are inseparable. The line about Barok comes in the investigation segment after Albert accepts his experiment was a failure proving that, despite accepting the truth, he hasn’t worked through the insecurity that made him so terrified in the first place. He has accepted that his experiment was a failure, but he still believes his person-hood is connected to the success of his hypothesis.

All this comes to a head at the end of the case. Drebber admits to his crimes, and takes his opportunity to rebuke the “Addle-brained mock scientists” who “Don’t recognise the fact that they don’t have talent” and “end up chasing impossible dreams.”

Albert then takes the stand to accept his acquittal. He goes on to echo Drebber’s words, calling himself a selfish and self-centered fool for “believing that [he] could do whatever [he] set [his] mind to, despite [his] lack of talent.”

Despite it being proven many times over that Drebber only wanted to use him, despite Drebber’s disdain being entirely fueled by bitter spite, and despite Ryunosuke proclaiming that Albert’s only “crime” was his passion for his hypothesis and that he was entirely undeserving of Drebber’s ire, Albert still takes Drebber’s words to heart. Even after his betrayal, Albert still holds Drebber’s opinion as a scientist in high regard. Albert’s opinion of himself was already left in tatters due to his association of his worth with his success, but hearing scathing critique from a fellow scientist that he holds personal respect for was the last push he needed.

Following this, Barok refutes both Albert’s and Drebber’s words. He reassures Albert that he is not at all to blame for the events that unfolded, and applauds Albert’s passion and dedication to always pursuing his dreams.

Ultimately, Albert’s arc is centered around his own internal conflict of accepting his failures, and divorcing those failures from his worth. Alongside that, he continues to act as a support character to Barok’s arc. By allowing Barok to be the one to step in, and pick Albert back up when he’s at his lowest the audience sees a near unprecedented level of kindness from Barok. Which, of course, supports his redemption.

A few more points I’d like to make: Aside from Barok’s involvement in the final step of Albert’s arc, the rest of it is entirely devoid of his presence. While their friendship and dynamic is an extremely important aspect of Albert's character, having his arc focus on his own personal struggles allows him to exist as a character outside of his relationship to Barok. This strengthens his personality as an individual person, which ironically strengthens his relationship with Barok.

Furthermore, while his arc is entirely separate from their dynamic, it still manages to continue the theme of Albert existing in contrast to Barok.

When Albert finds himself betrayed by those he believed he could trust, his instinct is to blame himself. He was too foolish to see the signs that his dream was a failure from the start, and he was the one to naively hold onto the hope that anyone could ever honestly believe in him. If he had just given up from the start none of this would have happened. In Barok’s own backstory he was similarly betrayed by someone that he trusted. Barok’s response was to lash out, to claw for revenge and someone to blame. He continued by isolating himself in his grief, growing more distrustful each day, and going as far as to treat anyone who barely resembled the man that betrayed him with equal resentment.

Albert’s response to betrayal was too lose trust in himself; Barok’s response to betrayal was to lose trust in those around him. With this taken into account, it becomes clear why Barok must be the one to reassure Albert of his innocence. However, he does not suggest that Albert should be bitter and vengeful in response to betrayal, but rather only that he should not lose trust in himself- finding a middle ground between their two extremes. This serves to highlight the character growth Barok has gone through up to this point.

This, all of this, is what I meant by Albert being a masterclass of a supporting character. Every individual facet of him ties back into that all-encompassing narrative goal of acting as support for Barok’s arc, while also existing as an individual character in his own right. Despite existing to support another character, his own identity is not lost in that goal.

Arguably, Albert would have been fine without his arc. He would have been fine if his entire character centered around his dynamic with Barok. Again, if his role is to be a supporting character he could have been decently serviceable as simply Barok’s old friend who got himself in a bad situation, and who acts as an optimistic voice insisting that Barok really does care about him deep down. This would be proven by Barok’s actions before, during, and after the trial, Barok would seem just as sympathetic since he would still be going out of his way to help another person, and the end result would be nearly the same, if not slightly less interesting. And that’s the crux of it, Albert is a more interesting character than he would have been if he was only “Barok’s friend”. He doesn’t need to be, but he is, and by putting that extra care and time into his character the relatively simple story beat of “Antagonistic character shows kindness towards another person helping to spur their redemption arc,” becomes something that gives much greater insight to both characters involved.

Before breaking down Albert’s character like this I had less appreciation for Barok. I still enjoyed him greatly, he was a low-A on a bad day, but I did not enjoy him as much as the other main cast. After ruminating on this as extensively as I have, my opinion of Barok has soared. Breaking down Albert’s character and role on a narrative level directly led to me liking Barok more, and if that’s not fulfilling his role as a supporting character I don’t know what is.

My Thoughts and a Conclusion

You can consider this work finished. I’ve said many words and made my overall point: Albert is a well constructed character on a technical level. He is tightly written, with exactly the amount of screen time he needs to accomplish everything his character is used to do, and he accomplishes it exceedingly well, in my opinion.

However, there’s one last point I haven’t covered. I opened this piece declaring that Albert is my overall second favorite Ace Attorney character. In a franchise spanning over two decades with mountains of characters that’s high praise, so why him? There are countless other characters in Great Ace Attorney 2 alone that are written just as well if not better, and have an even stronger connection to the overall plot and themes. There are many characters that I respect from a writing stand point, and yet they still don’t reach my top ten, twenty, thirty, beyond. I could go on for hours combing through line by line, word by word pointing why I like this bit, or how I interpret this interaction, and it will never reach the real reason as to why I enjoy Albert, or any character for that matter, as much as I do.

It’s not something I can write into an analytical essay with textual sources to support my point, because it’s not analytical. I like Albert as a character not for any of the reasons I covered in the 3.5k words above, but because his character emotionally resonated with me. I did not do this analysis and suddenly realize I liked his character. I adored his character, and how I show appreciation for the media I love is breaking it down bit by bit to uncover all the moving parts.

The message of Albert’s arc amounts to “Failure does not define your worth as a person.” and that “Even if you try your hardest and fail that was not effort or time wasted, because trying at all is respectable in of itself,” and this is a message that deeply resonates with me. The next section will require me to get vaguely personal, so to put it simply I am a perfectionist. This manifests itself in nearly every facet of my life, but to give a lighter and more relevant example: This essay itself. I mentioned nearly seven months ago that I was working on an Albert Harebrayne Character Analysis. I have not been working on this essay for seven months. Instead, those seven months I’ve spent procrastinating; coming up with any excuse I could to not write this. My grasp on the character is not good enough. My analysis will be surface-level and shallow. I’ll just be rambling on about something that only matters to me, and is an annoyance to everyone else. I finally worked up the nerve to open a word document and just start typing only after it became undeniably clear that my mind wouldn’t rest until this was made. It all stems from the fear that whatever I make will be less than perfect. That whatever I do won’t be done to the quality it deserves. There’s more I could say, but with that alone I’m sure you can piece together why the message that your failures do not impact your worth as a person is one that I connect to.

However, it goes even further than that. Albert is not the only character or story with a message of that vein in Ace Attorney. There is a second aspect at play, which are the assumptions I made in regards to Albert’s character throughout the case- Assumptions born from my own insecurities. From the start, I assumed he was going to be wholly a joke character, pure comedic relief. That’s not to say I disregarded him, not at all. Absent-minded professors and mad scientists are some of my favorite archetypes, so at the very least I assumed I would enjoy his presence. I did not expect him to become my second favorite Ace Attorney character that is for certain.

My prediction for the direction the narrative would take Albert all came from that central idea: He was ultimately a joke. Obviously teleportation is impossible, and it seems like we’ll have to prove that in order to prove his innocence. Albert, meanwhile, is extremely invested in his experiment being declared a success. Alright, so that means we will inevitably prove the failures of his hypothesis, he’ll have a tragically comedic (emphasis on comedic) breakdown as is tradition, and that will be the end of his relevance. Point and laugh, and move on. Judging by the many words I’ve written previously we both know things did not go as I predicted.

I do think Albert’s arc is meant to subvert the audience’s expectations to some degree. He starts as a primarily comedic character. His introduction to the audience is a cutscene in which he’s voiced and animated like a Looney Tunes character. Most of the self-deprecation he voices is treated like just another quirk. With that said, I do not think my personal level of surprise was necessarily intended. It was arguably obliviousness on my part how long it took me to realize that Albert was being treated seriously, or at the very least, as a sympathetic character.

It was not the moment when Albert describes how the presentation at the exhibition was the finest moment of his career, and the resulting terror he felt at the prospect of it being ripped away- which is treated as purely tragic. It was not the moment when the culprit, the villain, claims that Albert is a fool and a fraud too talent-less to ever achieve anything. I’m honestly a bit ashamed to admit, but it was the last possible moment I could have realized: The exact second that Barok says that he is Laudable not Laughable. More bluntly, the exact second a character and the story itself looked me in the eye and said that he was not a joke. In retrospect, it became clear that the story was building towards that from the start.

Everyone, the storyteller themselves and each individual audience member, comes to a work of fiction with their own biases, with those biases effecting how they experience the story and their own individual interpretations. Due to my own insecurities I unconsciously projected my own fears onto the story, and expected those fears to be validated. And then they weren’t. Those fears were not only not validated, but outright rebuked by the story itself. Not only was I wrong in my belief- belief based on subconscious insecurity- that failure deserved derision, but the story states it deserves the opposite. Kindness. Sympathy.

That is what connected me to Albert’s character to the level of some major characters. An extremely personal set of circumstances leading the story to resonate with me in a way entirely unique. This is not a statement on the quality of Albert’s character, but rather a statement of quality on Ace Attorney as a franchise for putting so much effort and care into every character, no matter how minor.

I am certain that not every person holds Albert in as high regard as I do; As I am certain that they have their own personal favorites that they connect with to a similar degree; As I am certain that to me those favorites may be totally unremarkable. There is a beauty in that, I think.

To anyone who read this in its entirety, I hope you enjoyed it. Anyway, closing statement: Albert Harebrayne sure is one of the characters of all time, and instead of writing five thousand words about a random side character I managed to get too emotionally attached to, I could have simply summarized all my feelings with this image:

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 002

we are so back its not even funny.…chat put W’s and 1’s in the chat. also if u catch this on ao3 im trying to fix the spacing it just ruined everything omg. (I FIXED IT)

WITH NEW RESURGENCE of WCW wrestlers, the WWF has a brand new problem on their hands. Under pressure, Vince decides to create the Invasion pay-per-view, an entire show dedicated to WWF vs WCW. In turn, Shane initiates your undercover plan. Oh, and Trish Stratus also gives you a proper thank you for helping her out. Lita isn't too welcoming, though. Matt isn’t either..

All of you had heard the announcement of Invasion just this morning. Supposedly, you and your team would fight the WWF next month, culminating in a winner-takes-all match.

You figure Shane was making his calls to let everyone know. You wouldn't be surprised if you were the first to know it, but it's unbelievable. Is the WWF challenging you guys? The answer is yes, but you know they will lose that battle.

This may have been the beginning of the end for that company, and nothing brings you more joy than seeing it crumble beneath your feet. Vince must've felt incredibly pressured by WCW. Dare you say, he felt threatened if he was going as far as making an entire show dedicated to this.

Supposedly, no one knew the entire card yet. The only thing Shane knew was that one of those matches would be Team WWF vs. Team WCW and that he needed extra time to prep everyone for it.

There's an inevitable group meeting to be called; you're sure of it. You don't mind being there one bit. You have to ensure your fellow wrestlers are pumped up with a pep talk before going out there.

Hell, you might even have your own match! So exciting. The only person you could think of them pitting you against is Lita, which you didn't mind at all.

"[Name], your hands are shaking."

Torrie's speaking pulls you out of your thoughts, and you bring up your hands to look at them.

You are shaking, and you find it incredibly hard to stop, as much as you try to will your body to.

"Ooh, you are!" She exclaims, looking over you again. "Like, really bad."

The black leathery couch creaks as you shift in your spot. You two were hanging out backstage at the next show, just as Shane requested.

There's gotta be something else you could do instead of sitting around like this. You wish you could run some interference, but as of tonight, you're trying to get into Team WWF's good graces.

You grimace at the thought. That is NOT your company, nor will it ever be. It even feels wrong to think that you belong to them.

You try to twist and turn one of your hands, but you're still jittering. "Sorry." You quickly apologize. "No idea why I can't stop."

When Torrie says absolutely nothing, you turn over to her. It's like she's examining you, but the awed look on her face is starting to agitate you.

She exhaled sharply and pointed a finger at you with a smile. "I get it now! You're nervous!" She exclaims.

"No," You're quickly denying it. "I'm cold, that's all. There's a draft in this room. I don't know how you're not cold with what you're wearing." You motion to her red jumpsuit cut in possibly the most revealing way ever.

"What's wrong with this?" She asks, looking down at herself. "If we want to get contracts, we'll have to make some sacrifices."

The first thing you say is: "…Ew." And although you mutter out an apology, you still find the implication gross.

 "Anyway," Torrie moves on. "You know there's nothing to worry about. Shane has everything under control!"

"Under control?" You jump out of your seat. "Invasion is next month! We have no idea what they're gonna put on the card. I don't think any of us has control over it, WWF does!"

Whenever you get wound up like that, Torrie would always back off to let you cool off. You'd generally sort it by your lonesome. But with how you're acting this go-around, it seemed like you need her intervention today.

"It's okay! That's why we're here." She reminded. She stands up to look you right in the eye. "To figure out what they're up to."

At first, you don't say anything. All you do is look back at Torrie. She gives you an expectant look, and you suck your teeth in response.

"I know." You say. "It's—"

You two are startled by the door slamming open, nearly falling off its hinges. You can hear Vince McMahon's voice from the outside, which makes you stand on guard.

Two men enter the room instead. They look around, turn the room upside down, move chairs, and look behind some plants.

Could Vince not come in himself? Too cowardly to come in? What a pansy.

A camera follows in right behind them, and you get the notion that you're on live TV. You can't hear it, but the crowd cheers at you and Torrie's appearance.

Torrie instinctively hides behind you. In turn, you do your best to stand strong. You try not to show your nervousness, crossing your arms so that you can hide your hands.

The two men in here were still turning the entire room upside down in search of something. You're not happy that these guys are ruining your "unassigned-assigned" room.

"Excuse me! Are you looking for something?" You finally say.

They freeze in tandem, and one looks at you in realization. They didn't care about your presence at all, huh? "Get in here!" One of the men yells out. "That's the girl with Booker T!"

With those words, Vince McMahon himself storms right into the room. You push Torrie even further behind you when he enters.

"Where the hell is Booker T?!" He gives the room a once over and then turns toward you. "You! You would know! Where is he?!"

"…. He's not here." You answer. The sound of shuffling makes you turn your head to the right. One of the men decided to toss your bag across the floor. "Hey! Watch it, that's mine! What the hell is wrong with you?" 

He slowly turns around. "What?"

"You heard me! "Whoever this guy was, your patience was already running thin. "Don't you have any manners? Pick it up!"

"I'm not picking that damn thing up." He says. Now that you get a better look at him, he looks exactly like the figure you saw at WWF New York.

If your memory serves you correctly, this is Stone Cold Steve Austin. Who just threw your very expensive bag on the floor?

The other guy with medals around his neck leans down and picks it up instead. "Here you go." He reaches it out toward you.

"Kurt, what the hell are you doing?!" He yelled. "She's a WCW girl! You [Name]?"

"Oh." Kurt falters, then drops your bag right onto the floor. Again.

"That's me, yeah." Though you confirm your identity, you feel exasperated. The crowd can't help but laugh. "…Please." You beg. "STOP DROPPING MY BAG." You kneel to pick it up and gently place it on the couch behind you. This time, they won't throw it around as if it had no value.

After that whole debacle, the question remains. "Well, where is he?" Vince asks. You narrow your eyes at him.

It takes everything, and you mean everything, not to insult him. It's all too easy to beat everyone up with a makeshift weapon and leave with Torrie for the rest of the night.

"You didn't hear me before? I said, I don't know." You repeat. "Maybe you should open up your ears, ol—"

"W-We don't know, Mr. McMahon!" Torrie cuts you off quickly. It's for the best. "You see, we're so glad you came here. Our contracts are expiring, and we were looking for something new."

You're sure that they were suspicious. After you attacked Lita, you weren't sure they'd go through with her idea. Torrie, sure. You already know she'll get in because she wasn't guilty, and newsflash: she's also attractive.

You, you're not sure. Obviously, you're attractive, but you may have ruined your chance by jumping on Lita like that. You decide to decorate your white lie with another.

"I just don't want to be a leader. I was told to do that to Lita, and I feel horrible. I don't want to be involved with WCW." You kick up your act to 100 by forcing tears to spring to your eyes, which sells it more. "Shane may even fire me for talking to you…"

"That's what you get when you deal with those classless WCW folk," Kurt snidely remarked, shaking his head. "Am I right, fellas?"

Vince and Austin look at each other for a moment, then nod their heads. Then, Kurt turns to you with his hand out.

"Hi, [Name]. Nice to meet you. I'm Kurt Angle, Olympic gold medalist." He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and you use your non-wet hand to shake it. Sorry about your bag." 

Guess an apology is a good way to start.

"Hello. It's fine." You shake his hand quickly and then return to your sob story. "I guess you're right. That company is classless." 

Torrie rubs your shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay, [Name]." She then turns to Vince. "Will you consider it?"

He's still not convinced. "And you are…..?"

She fills in the blank for him. "Torrie Wilson. From WCW. We would be so honored to work with you."

'We?' You think. Torrie must've been taking French classes. 

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Seeing as no one's jumping out at them, all three men relax at her words.

"I might be able to tell you where I think he is." When you say that, all three men perk up toward you.

Torrie looks alarmed but quickly calms down in fear of getting caught. You try to reassure her by patting the hand she kept on your shoulder.

"My only request is that you consider hiring us when our contracts go down the drain."

Honestly, you don't know where Booker T is, but you still try to compromise to get in good with them.

"Alright then. I'll do it. But Torrie, it's good to meet you. Very, very good." Vince was clearly trying to make moves on your blonde friend. "Maybe this weekend, dinner?"

Before Torrie can respond, you're quick to answer him. " We," You emphasize, "—can meet you at the show. No dinner, sorry. I don't think we'll be hungry."

Austin is pleased to hear it. "That sounds good. We don't need her. Then we'll go to dinner, Vince. I'll clear my schedule."

Kurt immediately jumps on the bandwagon. "Me too. I'll be there."

Austin shakes his head. "…We don't need you."

You clear your throat, making everyone look at you. "If you wanna know, I'm 99% sure Booker T is somewhere in the locker rooms. He could be looking for you guys like you're looking for him."

You can see them get all hyped up at your reveal, so you hope that was the push so they can get the fuck out of here.

Kurt is the only one who thanks you; he mutters it while vigorously shaking your hand one last time.

And thankfully, it was the push. They weren't sticking around for too long. At the very least, the three bid you and Torrie a quick goodnight and bolted out the door.

It must be important to find him. It's too bad you pointed them in the wrong direction. You knew that he wasn't anywhere near the stadium yet.

The more they looked, the more they wouldn't expect his appearance. They'll think he's not there at all, and the next time they're defenseless…WHAM! They won't see it coming!

God, you need to find a way to top that. Booker T is beating you in that department! You pray that Shane wouldn't actually get rid of you because you weren't performing up to standard.

You've got this. All you have to do is start plotting in your hotel room. You won't ask Shane what he thinks should be done. You'll spring the idea on him instead.

You wipe the crocodile tears, swiping a few fingers under your eye to not smudge the makeup you had on. Torrie walks over to the door and peeks out to ensure they're gone. She gently closes the door behind her afterward.

"When they came in, you looked like you were about to scream." She says.

You snicker. "I wish I could tell you how uncomfortable that entire exchange made me. Starting from pretending I'm something I'm not to that McMahon being around making me gag."

"I could've handled it myself." She starts. "But I still appreciate you saying something. We definitely wouldn't have gotten those contracts if you said anything more than that."

Yes, sometimes you could say some crazy things, but it's not always your intention to! Things tend to slip out of your mouth. You're just speaking your truth…

People have told you before that you like to speak about what's on your mind. Whether that was bad or good was always left to your interpretation.

"Pretty much. Anyway, we should split up." You suggest. "I'm going to try to apologize to Lita. Maybe I can find other people in the meantime."

"Oooh, you're finally deciding to make friends! Now you don't need to bother me and Stacy anymore." Torrie teased.

"I'm not gonna be friends with anyone in here!" You clarify. Seriously, you wouldn't be caught dead hanging with someone from here. "Besides, you guys love me and would get jealous of seeing me with anyone else."

She smiles at you. "Hmm, we get jealous? I'll have to get back to you on that."

You try to stay in your itty bitty circle for the most part, but you have no qualms about hanging out with coworkers.

Now, people from the WWF? No way. You don't think they could replicate the charm that the others had. Sure, people like Sting would stare creepily at you as you played chess. That was neat, but you can't beat him to this day!

You learn things, too. People like Randy Savage would yell at you and tell you to raise your voice to present yourself better. Fun!

And then you had people like Mona, who was friendly and calm. She's given you advice many times. It was a change of pace from the energetic characters you surrounded yourself with. 

You think there's no competition.

You move past Torrie and open the door, peaking your head down the hallway. There is someone not too far away. It's not Kurt, Vince, or Austin. It's someone else.

He's blonde, and he's holding something almost obnoxiously large. From this distance, it's safe to assume it's a trophy.

You retreat into the room. "And just like that, I already see my first target. How about I meet you back here when the show's over?"

"Fine with me." She agreed. "You know, I saw a Friday's on Time Square. Do you want to go after the show? Oh, oh, and who was it at the door?"

"I don't see why not." You don't mind hanging out. Not one bit. "And I think you're asking the wrong person. I can tell he's not a part of our team. He was blonde, and I think he was holding a trophy. No clue who that is. I need Shane to run me down on these people. I only know Trish, Lita, Matt, and the Big Show from him. I think I know the commentators, too?"

Shane was only telling you important information, so you figured these other randoms were less important to be known by you.

"Oooh, he's blonde?" Torrie's got that knowing sound in her voice, and you groan. "That's totally your type, [Name]. Everyone backstage used to say that you loved the blondes."

You look at her incredulously. "You're joking." Because she had to be. Who would even say that? It's not your fault that 80% of your friends had that hair color.

"Hehe. Yeah, I am. Wait, come here! If you want his attention, you've gotta oil up the good bits! Also, I think you need to wear something else!" Torrie exclaimed, dashing over to her bag.

Nuh-uh. No way. Not this time. She will NOT make you her Barbie doll again. You let the woman recommend clothes to you once and now she thinks she's your stylist!

"Torrie, what the hell do you mean oil up?! Leave me alone!" You exclaim. "I've gotta get this guy before he leaves!"

She's got the bottle in her hands, shooting you a pout. "Fine. But can't you lift your shirt just a little so that—"

"If you say anything else, I swear to god I will get you." You threaten, pointing a finger at her.

She backs off, holding her hands up to you. "Touchy!"

Saying nothing else to her, you open the door and walk down the hallway to approach this stranger.

You remember to keep a puzzled look on your face, then look around the room, all confused. The more ditzy you act, the more men will feel inclined to help you.

You let out an aggravated sigh, which is the one thing that caught his attention. He shifts the trophy in his hand to take a better look at you and then takes a few steps back in alarm.

"Woah, rogue WCW woman spotted. Don't attack me." He says. "I'm armed." He holds out the trophy to you warily, then pokes your stomach with one of the tiny metal prongs of the trophy.

"Ow—not a threat!" As plastic as those prongs were, they hurt like hell.  You feign panic, throwing your hands up. "I'm not a threat. I was just looking for someone! I want to tell Lita I'm sorry. Have you seen her?"

He's not sold at all, considering you cracked her head open the other day. "You want to say you're sorry? Listen, I don't care how tempting you are, I won't fall for whatever you've got going on. You're gonna try and take her out!"

This guy may have got the wrong idea. You're not into seducing him. Not yet, anyway.

"Thank you," You accept the compliment. "I, and probably you, have no idea what you're going on about." He may be in his head about you. "I'm only here to make amends because my contract may expire. I'll be out of work and out of a leader spot in no time."

They'd have to pry you from Shane's cold, dead hands. You don't have a choice but to hold onto the lie that your contract is ending soon.

"That sucks." He outright says, using a hand to comb through the top of his hair. "Uh, I mean, I'm sorry to hear that." He genuinely did seem apologetic, so he may be falling for it.

You’re still trying to be nice. "I'm [Name], but with you knowing what I did to Lita, you might already know."

"Yeah," He nods. "People've been talking about you beating up Lita. They're wondering what they're gonna do now. You're kinda gutsy for even showing up tonight. I'm Edge." He feels it's only fitting for him to introduce himself back, but it's easy to see that he's hesitant.

You smile anyway. Your following words are honeyed when you speak them. "Hi, Edge. Good to meet you. I'm gonna remind you that I mean no harm, seriously. After I talk to Lita, I'll even leave the arena. Are you sure you don't know where she is?"

"Lita.." Edge repeats, looking away from you for a second. "She might be with the Hardy Boys. I'm pretty sure."

It's part of a confession, making you think he had been holding back due to his suspicion.

"Hardy Boys, huh? Ah, do you know where catering is?" You ask. "I got so lost, completely forgot how big the Garden is." It's an exaggeration, but you should get some directions while you're at it.

…This is partly because you're hungry too.

Will the WWF's food hold its own against WCW catering? You need to put it to the test. You won't lie; your company had some of the best food by far.

It's not like you could put anything else to the test anyway. You hadn't even gotten a chance to get started on those local circuits because you took the chance and signed up for the Powerplant instead. It may have been too early, but it's gotten you far enough to be handed that beautiful contract.

It's not like you minded, you practically grew up watching it with relatives. Calling home with the exciting news was returned with happiness and playful jealousy.

Edge turns and points down the hallway. "Should it be that way to your left? Could be wrong, so don't come back trying to attack me."

You wave him off. "I won't. I think I'll give you a suplex. How does that sound to you?"

"I think I'd be the one doing that to you, [Name]." He countered. "You look pretty easy to carry."

"Edge! Been lookin' for you, man. Where'd you go?" Another voice makes you turn around to see yet another blonde man with goggles approaching you, and you fight the urge to throw your arms up in exasperation.

Maybe Torrie was right. You're not beating the blonde-lover allegations. You're losing… she's winning!! You hate it!

He looks over toward you, eyeing you up and down. Then he comes closer to Edge, muttering something else. "Who's that?"

"[Name], this is Christian, my brother." Edge introduces. "Christian, this is [Name]."

Brother, huh?

Christian looks between the two of you incredulously, then settles his eyes on Edge. "Wait, this is the chick that—"

The both of you say the end at the very same time. "…smashed Lita's head into the ground." You already knew it was coming. "Yes. That's me."

"Guess it's obvious then." He snickered.

"I may have done it, but it wasn't my intention." For a second, you pause because it was. There's no way it was just a freak accident. "It wasn't my intention to make her my enemy." You correct. "All I wanted to do was say sorry about it. It was all a misunderstanding on my end. Maybe we can work together against WCW."

You're trying your best to present yourself as a charity case towards them, and they, along with the others, are taking the easy bait.

He's not as apologetic as Edge was, but Christian still shakes his finger at you. "Work together, eh? You know what? She could help us, Edge. Those Hardy's, you know we've been feuding since 1999."

He then turns to you. "[Name], it's a big thing."

"What was the last time we won, last month?" Edge asks.

Christian takes a second to think about it and then replies. "Yeah, man. It was us and Rhyno. Eddie tagged along with them. Then we lost to him and Jeff. Remember?"

"Yep. Something happened every time." Edge reminisces about those matches. "We won that first one, sure, but Lita kept getting in the way."

"Exactly." Christian's leading up to something with this. "I hate to say it, but they've got us beat, man. We never got someone to deal with Lita, and she's done that hurricanrana crap to both of us! That's what usually messes us up." Christian continued to explain.

"If we have her…" Edge vigorously nods his head, waving his finger back at him. "I see where you're going with this man."

This was perfect! You swear you'd kiss Christian if you could. He's got you right where you need to be for the most part. A smile grows on Edge's face. "She can get rid of Lita! Dude, you're like, genius level of genius."

Genius level of genius? That’s original.

Christian takes that trophy out of Edge's hands for some reason. He snugly adjusts it in his arms, holding it as if he wouldn't let go.

Neither you nor Edge question it; they are more interested in getting rid of those Hardy Boys once and for all.

Well, you're only partly in on their fantasy. You had no idea how their feud went! The only question you have to ask is, "Are you guys going to be able to get us on the card for that?"

"You don't have to worry about that, [Name]. As the King of the Ring winner, I'll make sure it gets done!" Edge exclaims.

Aha! No wonder he had that trophy. It makes sense, but you're not sure how big of an achievement it was. As long as it got you on the card, you're good.

"Commissioner Regal is a real pain. Are you sure you're gonna be able to do it, dude?" Christian asks. "You know, it's always the Brits. He acts like he's got a stick up his ass."

"Don't worry about it. Me and you will go into his office." Edge pats his shoulder. "We'll get that match in no time."

You're down. "Okay then. You guys tell me when we go. I'll be ready. Edge, you said catering was down that way, right?"

He gives you a thumbs up, and you say goodbye. Maybe you'll see them more in the future, especially since you're teaming up now.

You turn your head behind you and see they're still watching you go. You decide to give them one final wave for real. Before you get to catering, you wait until you're a reasonable distance to pull out your phone and dial Shane up.

It's a quick detour, hitting a sharp left in the hallway. You're met with another room nearby, a gift from whatever god was out there, the janitor's closet.

It would be better to finish the call there, wouldn't it? No curious eyes, no listeners. It'll just be you. 

Your paranoia starts to spike because you're already peeking around the corner to see if anyone's there. The coast may be clear, but you won't take your chances. Closet it is.

You've already got your phone in your hand as you open the door. The only thing that would keep you company now were the cleaning supplies lined up on the shelves. 

You're already dialing Shane up once you close the door behind you. Most of your paranoia has subsided after closing it, and you keep your hand on the doorknob to ensure that no one else opens it to interrupt you.

Your back is turned, but what more should you be afraid of? Those mops and brooms? If anyone saw you going in, you'd say you needed some fresh air alone. Something like that.

"I wasn't expecting any company."

"My god!" You instinctively yell, jumping out of your skin. Goddamn it! Why would anyone be in the dark, in the janitor's closet of all places?! Your hand reaches for the light switch, flipping it on as soon as your fingers land on it. 

Just your luck. You walk into a squatter's home. You turn behind you to see a man sitting before you, slumped over with his curly hair falling in front of his eyes. "[Name], isn't it?"

Your hand is still on the doorknob. Would it be wrong to say you don't think you can leave yet? He knows your name. You're still alert. "Um, maybe. Why in the hell are you in here alone?" Other than being a total creep.

"Doing drugs. You want?"

He offers it to you so casually! You're taken aback, and it takes you a minute to reply. "No!"

"Relax, I'm joking. You're not a cop, are you? All I am here for is the silence. It's the only thing I can ever find peace of mind in." He says. 

You look at him and nod. "Right. Yeah. Okay. Well, this was all an accident. I have a really important call, so I'm gonna have to leave. Although a word of advice, maybe some pink would be good for your decor."

You're turning away from him, but he's saying something else the next thing you know.

"WCW shouldn't be alone in this fight. We need to take this company down. The WWF is fated to fall."

He makes you turn back around curiously. This may not be a squatter after all; he knows about WCW.

"Who exactly are you?"

As soon as you ask that question, the phone picks up. Shane's voice is loudly on the speaker, "Hello, [Name]? Are you alright?"

You immediately hold the phone to your ear. "What? Yeah. I'm fine. Can I call you back?"

"It's good to know it’s actually your name," the man says, setting his hands on his ankles to stand up from his spot. "Don't hang up now. The show's just starting." He comes closer to you, and you're already trying to hit buttons on your phone for some privacy.

"Don't suppose that's Shane McMahon on the phone? Let me talk to him. We're close. Real close." There's supposed to be excitement in his voice, yet it's delivered to you in the most monotone way possible.

"No, you can't talk to him! I mean, it's not Shane!" You try to cover your tracks, holding out your hand to him. "I have to go, so go do your drugs or whatever you were up to."

He doesn't leave you alone, instead reaching over and snatching the phone out of your hands. He lifts the phone in the air so you can't reach it, then turns away.

"Shane, can you hear me?" He asks, pulling the phone closer to his mouth. "Remember me?"

There's silence at first, and then Shane's voice comes from the phone. "Oh! Hey, Scotty! How're you doing?" You're in complete disbelief.

"You know this guy?!" You exclaim. "Shane, are you pranking me right now?!"

"I don't go by that anymore. It's Raven now. I'll be the first to tell you that ECW wants in. We've seen what's been going on."

"ECW as in Extreme Championship Wrestling?" Do they really want in? Any help is good, and it'd be two against one. You're not entirely against the idea. "Wait, give me my phone back! This isn't for you!"

"You're with [Name] right now?"

"Yeah. She's pretty aggressive. It goes to show what kind of women you surround yourself with, Shane." He comments.

"Who in the world told you that?" You ask, ignoring his snide remark. "Are you ECW's leader or something? I bet you don't have as much authority as I do."

"Okay, okay. There's no need to fight, guys." Shane is trying to be a peacemaker, doing his best to ease any tension. "Raven, if you can clue Paul Heyman in, we can discuss this in more detail in person. My invitation is extended to you, but I need to speak with [Name] for now. We can't proceed unless I talk with her first."

Thank god Shane was on your side. You can't fight the cheeky smile as you expectantly hold your hand out.

"Fine. I'll be the person to spread the message to him. The sooner, the better. Besides, no one wants to keep this outdated Nokia anyway." The sarcasm in his voice is the first emotion you've heard from him.

And you groan in response. For the love of god! Everyone needs to leave the Nokia alone! Raven begrudgingly hands it over and turns over to the door.

You'd think he'd say something else to you, but he only gives you one last glance before leaving.

"And stay out!" You yell behind him, slamming your palm onto the door.

"It's a pleasure to hear your voice, [Name]," Shane says. "I'm assuming you didn't just call me for some casual conversation before you were interrupted. What's going on?"

"Right, right. Before, I was so rudely interrupted." You say. "I ran into this guy Edge and his brother, Christian. They wanted me to team up with them to get rid of Lita. I figured it was a good opportunity to get myself out there. I'm also on my way to apologize to her after I finish talking to you. Is that alright?"

"Is what alright? You apologizing? I was the one that recommended you should—"

"No, no, that I'm even here. You called me a part of your dream team. Torrie told them our contracts were expiring soon. I played off that, but any smart person wouldn't get rid of their leader that fast. I don't want them to doubt me." At the end, you let out a sharp sigh.

Thanks to your explanations, no one's questioning you, but it's pretty easy to get caught up in a lie you tell.

"You worry a lot!" He laughs again, and you furrow your brows. "It'll be fine. A lot of those wrestlers aren't smarter than a bag of rocks. Trust me, I know this for a fact. My father's not any smarter. He has no idea what's coming to him, especially with ECW possibly helping us."

Talk about throwing people under the bus. It seems Shane's pretty relentless when it comes to his old employees. You're just glad you're not on the receiving end. Shane's been here longer than you, so you have no choice but to believe him.

However, you still feel hesitant. "Are you really sure?"

"How about this, then. I keep Torrie so she and Stacy can feud with Trish and Lita; you continue to play nice with the WWF since you're already there. You let them think that you're working your way to betray us when, in actuality, you're going to betray them."

Keeping Torrie after she told them that your contracts were expiring? That would be risky, along with you slotting into the roster. But you'll try and conform to it. "Okay, okay." You agree. "I think I can do that."

"Have some faith in me." It's like he can sense your hesitation. "More importantly, have some faith in yourself, [Name]. Was that all?"

The only thing you can do is try. "Yeah, I'll talk to you when I hear anything new."

"Alright then, you take care, [Name]."

Ending the call with those final words, you shove your phone back into your pocket. As much as you want to take a second to breathe, Lita's the next person on your list.

Opening the closet door, you head straight towards the double doors of catering. Oh boy, you hope Lita's in here. If not, you'll have to continue your journey elsewhere. You don't have all night, though.

You're met with a few unfamiliar faces when you open the door. They stare at you in confusion, which quickly turns into alarm. Some people even stand up from their seats.

You come in peace, for now! "Everyone can relax. I want to be on your side now. I came to apologize." You don't even beat around the bush.

Most are suspicious but still get back into their seats. What were they going to do anyway? You could defend yourself with one of these chairs if you needed to.

Scanning the room, you find the woman of the hour looking at you with wide eyes. You immediately approach her. A relieved smile appears on your face as your searching is no longer needed, tossing out your arms. "Lita!"

Just as you call her name, two men protectively stand before her. The only one you knew was Matt, although the other guy had a striking resemblance to him. Siblings, perhaps?

Matt was the one that had enough gall to get in your face. "You've got a lot of nerve showin' up here," Matt started, waving his finger at you. The southern twang in his voice almost makes you giggle. It's so out there.

You do your best to cover it by looking sad instead. "Tell me something I don't know. Sorry, but losing was your fault, though." That's one thing you had to make clear. "Tell me, was it nice when Trish kissed you? Did you even try to push her away?"

You pucker your lips toward him and kiss the air as he huffs at you. Matt is frustrated at your taunt and clenches his fist. What you say is true; you and Lita had your own business. Whatever he did in the ring was his responsibility.

Didn't mean you could tease him so freely about it, though.

He's going to say something else to you, but Lita shakes her head, getting up from her seat and stepping in front of him instead. "No, Matt. Just leave it. It's okay." And then she looks at you directly. "You must be really brave to show up here after what you did, or maybe you're just stupid."

It's the second time you've heard that tonight..

"Never stupid." You'd like to get that straight now. "Only apologetic." And for her to even say that makes you sure about your decision. You're glad you beat her up on Raw.

"I thought attacking you would prove my allegiance to Shane. He ordered it. I did it, but I see how wrong it is and how fucked up WCW is. After thinking about what I did to you, I wanted to come to this show and make things right."

It seems like you're taking a breath when, in actuality, you're trying to get your lies together. "I was sad and idling the halls. I want WCW to crash and burn. I have my allegiance and want it to be with all of you." You make sure to say it loudly enough so others can hear you.

"Well, I don't think any of us trust you." Matt cut in. "Something's not right about you."

"Matt, give the woman a break." The other guy says. "She's tryin' to help us. She apologized for what she did. I'm sure we've made some mistakes, so we could try and give her some credit."

Whoever this guy was with brightly dyed purple hair, you're glad he stepped in. You make a mental note to remember his face if he never introduced himself to you.

No, you won't let that happen. The only person you extend your hand to is him, although your proper introduction is meant for all of them. "I think we should get off on the right foot now. I'm [Name]. I want to be on your side now."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lita and Matt share some telepathic looks. All you did was introduce yourself to him!

He reaches out his hand. "Jeff."

Matt's the one who brings Jeff back to Earth, smacking his shoulder. It makes Jeff retract his hand before you can even take it. "The hell are you doin'?! We can't trust her!" It's a whispered shout that you're in clear range of hearing, not that Matt cared.

Jeff shrugs at him, then holds his hands up. "I thought…”

"Hardy meeting," He points toward the door, sounding as stern as they come. "Right now. Lita, you do what you need to do with her."

Jeff slunks over to the door, and Matt is just about to follow, but Lita gives him a parting kiss before he goes. She mutters, "I love you," but Matt's already storming off to deal with Jeff to even reply.

"So, you two are an item after all. It wasn't just jealousy." You comment. The urge to make another Trish jab was strong, but by divine intervention, you didn't say it.

"Yeah. A year, now." She confirms.

That information goes right into the filing cabinet. You give a half-smile to her. "All of you are friends then?"

It's a bit tense between you two, but Lita replies anyway, albeit strained. "Yeah, uh, we're a team. They're brothers. Matt's the oldest."

It makes sense. They looked similar, and Matt used that authoritative tone when telling Jeff to go outside.

Either way, you decide to jump straight to the chase. "I'm gonna take this chance to clear the air while it's just me and you. Lita, I was being honest when I said I wanted to take WCW out. I've gotten so close to Shane McMahon that it would be a shame for all of us to waste this opportunity. Even out of all this, I want a friendly rivalry from you at most."

Friendly, yes, that's what you wanted. It's not like you'll stiff her in the ring or anything.

"Like they always say, it's just business, you know? No hard feelings."

Lita takes a minute to think about it, turning her head away from you and then turning back. "You know what? Fine. No hard feelings. I'll give you another chance, [Name]. But if you screw up again, I can't guarantee that I won't fight you about it."

"That is totally fine. Trust me, I won't mess up again. I'll be there to help you when our goals align." Your professional tone was leaking out...

This is partly thanks to the many creative meetings and other ventures you've had at WCW. Reassurance and composure are two ways to worm your way inside a company. "Is the food any good here, by the way?"

And you can understand if Lita doesn't fully trust you. If you were in her position, you wouldn't trust yourself either.

Lita shrugs. "I mean, yeah. It's alright, I guess. You'd have to try it yourself." You still do think she believes you, despite her dry responses. It's just more progess you need to make.

"Oh my gosh, [Name], right?"

Lita groans and tosses her head up toward the ceiling. Whoever said your name, Lita wasn't happy to see them.

You turn your head over to see Trish. "Could I have a moment?" She clasps her hands together.

It's like Lita gives you the same look she gave Matt, trying to tell you something without using her words. It's difficult for you to understand, so she instead decides to leave you two be.

"Do whatever the hell you want. She's all yours." She'll probably join that Hardy meeting if they're still out there.

The both of you watch her go, and once she's out, Trish gives you her undivided attention. "Lita's always been...catty. I mean, she's been bullying me since my debut! How crueler can you get? I don't understand why she doesn't like me. And here I am, trying to let creative put us together in case we have to go against WCW. Not you now, of course."

"Stacy Keibler. Torrie Wilson." You offer up their names. "Only two they'll probably pit you against. They're all they have now."

On another note, you're trying to understand why Lita disliked Trish that much. Well, it's obvious why she didn't like you, but that's only because you did something to provoke her into it.

As you recall, Trish did end up kissing Matt. It all makes sense now, Lita looking pissed about it as she retaliated. They're an item! It's no wonder Lita wants her out.

You'll let Trish figure out that part by herself some time. "Guess you've gotta get to know her a little better. You're Trish, right?"

"That's me. I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to say thank you. Lita was gonna rough me up some more if you didn't step in when you did." Her fingers move a few strands of hair out of her face. "I feel like I owe you. What do you say to lunch next Wednesday?"

Lunch with Trish? Looks like you're already getting in good with these superstars! "Fine with me."

"I'm sorry about Shane McMahon, by the way." She adds. "We need all the help we can get, and you deserve this spot. Guess all McMahon's are pigs."

All? Like, all of them? Not Shane, at least. Shane's been nothing but pleasant and respectful to you. Unlike your previous boss, Eric Bischoff, who you were sure hated your guts with the way he treated you.

"Oh yeah, probably. I wouldn't be surprised. Even my old boss was a sleazeball." You mention.

You always thought he preferred Stacy to you when booked in certain segments. You and "Miss Hancock" were always set together when possible, but she was always going over most of the time.

At first, you had a time when you resented Stacy, putting a strain on your relationship for months. But you slowly came to terms with the fact that it was never her fault. It was management. You'd bring up your problems to Eric, and he'd dangle your contract over your head. He was quick to tell you that you didn't have to stay. Could head back right to your hotel.

That's something you don't miss.

"Then I guess we've both had some problems with our bosses, huh?" Trish mused. "It's not a very good thing, but it makes me feel better to know I'm not alone."

You're not sure what history she's had with Vince McMahon, but if she was comparing her situation to your own, then she's definitely seen some shit. You'll have to ask her about it over lunch.

Honestly, you're happy she was so sweet. Considering you saved her skin, it was fair, but hospitality goes a long way for you right now.

"Did you want to sit with me? I've got an extra seat right next to me." She uses both of her thumbs to point to her left.

"I don't see why not," You smile. Let me get something to eat first." You're already sauntering off towards the table of different foods as you hear her say, "I'll just be over here then."

You have no idea where to start. To distract yourself for only five seconds, you grab a plate. Then you're already back to square one. What do you want to eat?!

Fruit, muffins, salad, you name it, they've got it. Everything looks appealing, and it's damn near stressing you out.

You make a mental apology to Trish because you're definitely going to be here for quite a while.

as i said on the ao3 ver, i envisioned 90s look raven because that’s probably my favorite iteration of that asshole. and this is actually really fun to write since I can build up relationships 😭 i kinda cringe seeing my old writing but im happy u guys really liked it!! Thanks for reading :D

[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x reader

Chapter twenty six | I love you, I’m sorry

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Warnings - ANGST! Guns, and shooting, Death, mentions of sex, cursing, usual twd warnings

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

(A/N) - it’s finally here! Yay I’ve been working on this chapter since may and I’m so happy I’ve finally finished it. I know progress with my fics have been moving a little slower that they usually do but I’m hoping fingers crossed 🤞that I am able to speed the process up a little in the coming months 🫶🏻 also finally introducing the governor as the readers father in this chapter, I kind of hinted at it last chapter, to play around with the idea of it being canon. And I really like the ideas and situations I’ve came up in my head to put them in.

‘The suicide king’

S3 ep 9

Daryl is unbagged and pushed forward towards the middle of the arena. Merle and Daryl stand frozen, their eyes scanning the crowd in utter disbelief. The deafening sound of boos and heckles echoes throughout the arena, drowning out any other noise. Daryl's chest is heaving, faster and faster with each shout made from the audience of people. A blonde woman is attempting to force her way through a group of people, most likely the Governor's personal bodyguards, to get closer to him.

She manages to get through the first set before a surprise second set grabs her up before she can even get to his side. The governor - or maybe I should just start calling him Philip - because I finally know who the man behind the oh-so-mysterious name 'the governor' is. It's funny, I've been looking for this man for the last, what? 20 years of my life and I'm able to find him not even a year into the apocalypse so easily. How could he avoid his kids for 20 years in the old world, but he couldn't even last a year without me finding him now?

I really want to know how my father, Philip Blake, ended up being some dictator for a survivor's refugee camp. I almost want to laugh at how 'badass' he looks right now. makeshift eyepatch over one eye, as he looked over all his people so proud to be an asshole. My father was never much of a threat, but god he tried to be, though he really tried. I didn't hear much about my dad growing up, my maternal grandpa always muttered about how he was "such an asshole of a man", but the one thing I did hear from my paternal grandmother was that he ended up skipping town got some stupid office job and started a new family. it was all some bullshit about needing to start over, without my 'slut of a mother'.

His arm raises, so it's pointing towards Merle. The people of Woodbury immediately quiet down as their leader begins to speak. "I asked where your loyalties lie. You said here." Daryl was finally let out of whatever shackles that were placed around his arms, letting them fall to his sides freely. "Well, prove it. Prove it to us all." My blood runs cold.

"Brother against brother," he says with a dry chuckle. The crowd copies their leader, letting out a small chuckle that's paired with a quiet "yeah."

"Winner goes free" the crowd cheers at that, probably hoping and praying that Merle is able to win. Even though Merle was now deemed possibly 'unloyal' in the governor's eyes, it was still the better option for them. If Daryl died, Merle would have absolutely no reason to want to help us. Merle would go back to being Philip's loyal righthand man, and we, the 'terrorists' would be dead. Glenn had already told them our location and they would be marching up to our door with pitchforks in no time. Philip walks towards Merle shouting "Fight to the death!" as he does so. The crowd cheers once again. This was a scene taken straight out of one of those shitty medieval times shows.

The blonde woman finally turns, revealing her whole face to me. Andrea, the woman I thought I had accidentally left for dead, was here? Of all places, how did she end up here? Well, she had already shown us she didn't care about being led by an asshole, and if she was as close with Philip as she seems, she should already know how much of an asshole he was. "Philip, please. Don't do this," Andrea pleads, as one of Philips's men holds her back. "Don't do this!" He doesn't even glance at her, choosing instead to keep his eye on his prey. He glares at the two men standing in front of him, a smirk on his face that shows he truly enjoys this. The torture. He doesn't even have to do it himself, he just has to sit back and watch.

Merle raises his hand in the air before shouting "Y'all know me!" the crowd cheers, and I can see the absolute look of betrayal on Daryl's face. "I'm gonna do whatever I got to do to prove..." He hesitates for a moment before swinging his arm back and delivering a forceful punch to Daryl's stomach. With a loud grunt, Daryl collapses to the ground, and the crowd erupts in excitement. I stand frozen, unable to believe what I'm witnessing. how could he do that? Do that to his brother? "Holy shit," Jack gasps as Daryl begins to push himself up off of the ground. "That's my loyalty to this town!" just as Daryl has gotten his head off of the ground, Merle kicks him, sending him right back onto the ground.

Daryl lies motionless on his back, his chest heaving up and down with a faint rhythm. My eyes are fixed on him, hesitant to glance away, as if by doing so I might miss the final moments of his life. Merle continues throwing blow after blow as Philip watches on the sidelines with a sick look on his face. The crowd cheers as they lead out a walker. It's practically on a leash as some man, probably another one of Philips's men, leads him toward Daryl and Merle.

Finally, Daryl throws a punch. It's towards Merle's ankles but it gets him somewhere. It gets Daryl back onto his feet. Daryl launches himself toward Merle, tackling him, or at least trying to, but Merle has a leg up in this competition. merle gets Daryl down to the ground first. Both men have their hands around each other's necks as three of Philips's men lead three walkers towards them.

I don't even know what to do to help Daryl out. I could cause some type of distraction. If something more dangerous happens, it could give Daryl the freedom to escape. My eyes fall to my bag. I open it up and grab my gun right as Daryl and Merle get back to their feet. The two are working together to defeat the walkers.

My ammunition is running dangerously low, but my determination to save Daryl is unwavering. I'm willing to take the risk and use my last bullet to help him escape. My breaths come in quick and shallow as I raise my gun, my hands trembling with apprehension. I take aim at a man standing near Philip. I let out one more shaky breath before pressing the trigger and letting the bullet fly out of the gun and toward the man. Luckily for me, my aim was amazing today. The bullet tears right through his skull. Everyone around him screams as he falls to the ground with a thud.

Suddenly, someone behind Jack and I start shooting rounds into the arena, which makes even more of a ruckus. As I turned around to glance behind me, my eyes fell on Maggie, who was casually leaning against the top of the cold metal dumpster that was situated behind us. She shoots round after round into the arena. I let out a sigh of relief and began running back towards her. rick throws one of his smoke bombs, and Maggie continues to shoot. All I can hear is the sound of the automatic rifle and screams. Everyone's scattering like flies. Rick looks up at me, his mouth is open as if he's about to ask me something before his eyes flick to Jack who's stood behind me. "Who's that?"

"Old friend... he helped me," I reply. Rick continues to stare at Jack, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if he's trying to find a reason not to like him. I already know what he's going to ask. "Is he one of the governor's men?" I quickly respond, "He was just a resident and didn't know anything about what was going on, right Jack?" Jack nods, muttering a quiet "mhm."

Daryl and Merle sprint towards us while Rick urges, "Daryl, let's go!" Without wasting any time, we all take off at full speed, our hearts pounding with fear of being spotted by Philip or his men. The only sound that can be heard is our pounding footsteps on the ground as we race towards safety.

-

We manage to escape the arena and run back into the main town area. We were cautious as we walked around, hoping everyone was in the arena, but there was no actual way to know, so we were as careful as we could.

"they're all at the arena, this way!!" Merle instructs, attempting to lead us toward an exit. Rick was quick to shoot down the idea of Merle going with us. "you're not going anywhere with us!" he growls. "You really want to do this now?!" Merle asks as he runs towards the fence, attempting to pry apart the metal, as Rick and Daryl stand guard. I pray to God Rick won't say anything about Jack going with us. I don't want him to stay here, knowing the possible doomed future of Woodbury.

Finally, Merle manages to pull apart the metal, leaving a nicely sized hole in its wake. We all slipped through without a problem, but we're only met with walkers on the opposite side. "A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!" Merle shouts as he beats a walker to death with his prosthetic arm. Daryl was quick to pitch in, shooting a walker with his bow. I pull my gun out, shooting off my last bullet into a walker's head, "We ain't got time for this!" before beginning to sprint off.

I stand motionless next to Jack, anticipation building as we await instructions from Rick. "let's go!" Daryl shouts once it's been more than a few seconds, Rick, Maggie, and I not moving. I'm glad Daryl hasn't asked about Jack yet. Maybe it's just because he's too busy to realize. But I hope he never mentions it. I'm scared he'll get mad, or jealous. He's just a friend now, hell we were tiptoeing around a breakup when the outbreak started. But I don't know how Daryl is with exes. I know he can get jealous; he has many times before. Normally, I can predict what he'll do in certain situations, but with Jack, I just don't know how Daryl will react. rick folds, deciding to follow after Merle rather than die.

-

The walk back to the car is long. My hands are in my pockets as I trail behind a bit, with everyone else at least a few feet ahead of me. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can't help but overhear Merle and Daryl's conversation. "sooo, wha's up with you'n tha' bitch?" Merle asks, his head tilting back, so it points towards me. My heart stops, wondering what Daryl would say. Would he refer to me as his girlfriend? Even though we already had discussed what our relationship was, and I was confident in my role as Daryl's girlfriend, I was scared that he'd be embarrassed to admit that we were in a relationship with his older brother.

Daryl's quiet for a few seconds, giving his brother enough time to throw in another comment. "You to fuckin' around or something?" Daryl chuckles left hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Um...I guess me'n her are together," he says with a shrug. Merle almost immediately bursts out in a booming fit of laughter, which makes Rick turn around and glare. I don't understand what's so funny. Was it so farfetched that Daryl and I were dating? I can see the back of Daryl's ears turn a bright red as his hands nervously play with the hem of his shirt. "yer datin' her! ain't she fuckin' that Chinese boy?" I almost scoff at Merle's assumption. I can almost hear Daryl's eyes roll as he says, "Nah... they're just friends."

"ya sure? I remem-" Daryl's quick to shut Merle down once again "I'm sure"

-

It's about 20 minutes later when we end up back at the other side of the large acre of woods where we parked the car. As we approach the car, Rick whisper yells out Glenn's name, which makes both Glenn and Michonne get up and run to us. "Oh, thank god," Glenn sighs out as he approaches us. Rick was quick to squash the inkling of relief that Glenn had by revealing our newfound problems. "Now we got a problem here. I need you to back up." the moment Merle's face comes into Glenn's sigh, his face instantly contorted into anger "What the hell is he doing here!" Michonne pulls out her Katana in an effort to protect herself, and Daryl, he's quick to begin yelling in an effort to protect his older brother. There is a gun pointed at almost everyone in the group. "are you guys always like this?" Jack mutters quietly, "Always," I reply with an eye roll.

Everyone is yelling over each other; I can barely understand one word that's coming out of anyone's mouth. "Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you," Rick scoffs, while I cross my arms over my chest, feeling absolute annoyance simmering inside me. "Hey, we both took our licks, man," Merle chuckles as his back presses against the tree behind him. "Jackass" Daryl scoffs with an eye roll. merle pushes himself off the tree. "Hey shut up!" Merle shouts back at his brother, his voice filled with pure annoyance. The brotherly squabble is quickly shut down by Rick with a loud "Enough!" but that just turns into another fight. "Hey! hey! Relax! Put that down!" Rick shouts at Michonne, who's got her Katana pointed at him. "Get that thing out of my face!" Daryl shouts, swatting at Glenn's gun.

Merle laughs. "Man, look like you've gone native, brother." Daryl turns around, his anger now fully directed at his brother. "NO more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there." Merle just has a smirk on his face, mainly just to piss Daryl off even more. "oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I got to tell you that. been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time, baby." Merle said eye's making direct contact with Michonne. my eyebrows furrow with confusion, not because of Andrea fucking my father, that was predictable, Andrea liked a man with power, but I'm confused because Andrea and Michonne had known each other. Glenn's just as confused brows furrowed as he asks "What? Andreas in Woodbury?"

"Right next to the governor," Daryl replies. Michonne takes a few steps forward, pointing her Katana in front of her once again, with the intention of hurting someone. "I told you to drop that!" Rick shouts, lunging forward, making Michonne lower it once again. Michonne has a blank expression on her face as Rick asks, "You know Andrea?" her eyes don't make contact with Rick, instead settling for somewhere right behind him.

Rick doesn't take her silence for an answer, so he gets closer, and his voice drops to a low, sinister whisper, "Hey, do you know Andrea?" he asks once again. She doesn't answer, letting Merle answer for her. "Yep, she does," he says, a smirk displayed on his lips. "Her and blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up in the forest. Mm-mmm-mmm." Rick has a look of betrayal on his face as Merle continues to reveal more and more of Michonne's secrets. "Yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept them in chains."

What. The. fuck? two pet walkers! "kinda ironic now that I think about it." Daryl is done with Merle's mouth. Daryl quickly spins around shouting "Shut up, bro!" Merle laughs, obviously finding Daryl's anger hilarious "Hey, man, we snagged them out of the woods. Andrea was close to dyin'."

"Is that why she's with him?"

Merle nods. "Yeah. Snug as two little bugs. So, what ya gonna do now, sheriff, huh? Surrounded by a bunch of liars, thugs, and cowards." Merle says, just poking and prodding at Rick, trying to get a reaction out of him. And a reaction is what he got; Rick turns his head, commanding Merle to "shut up!" Merle, being Merle, doesn't comply and continues his antics. Merle chuckles. "Oh, man, look at this. Pathetic!" he shakes his head in faux shame. "All these guns and no bullets in them."

Merles once again got on his brother's last nerve. "Merle! shut up!" Daryl growls, leaning forward a bit, trying to intimidate his older brother. Merle doesn't take that and begins to shout, "Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies you roll-" Merle isn't even able to finish his last sentence before Rick quickly strikes him in the back of the head with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground unconscious with a thud. "Asshole."

-

We're all gathered around in the middle of the road, leaving Jack sat on the side of the road, feeling he had no place in the conversation, and Merle still in the woods. Daryl's trying to propose that Merle comes with us, but Rick's not so sure, feeling it will just cause trouble. "It won't work," Rick sighs. Daryl still tries his best to convince Rick, though "it's gotta" I'm not on either side. I know Merle is nothing but trouble. I've known that since the moment I met him. But I also know that Daryl has beaten himself up over losing his brother for the past year. I know having his brother with our group again would make him happy. I want Daryl to be happy, I really do, but Merle has already caused so much trouble for our group. Hell, he kidnapped and almost killed Glenn and Maggie.

"it'll stir things up," Rick argues. I know he's right. Having Glenn and Merle under the same roof probably won't end up well. Glenn was already so pissed off; it wouldn't be right to make Glenn and Maggie feel more unsafe than they already did. "Look, the governor is probably on the way to the prison right now. merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle," Merle did already know a bunch about Phillip, but who says he's even gonna help up, all he did back at the quarry was fuck around and start unnecessary fights with Shane.

"I'm not havin' him at the prison,"

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol, Beth, or hell, Casey?" Glenn asks. thinking about it, I don't want Merle Dixon anywhere near Casey. I know Merle is Daryl's brother and all, but he should really think about this. I was barely comfortable being within 5 feet of Merle myself let alone my 5-year-old. he has to start thinking about the bigger picture, he has to start thinking about how this could affect Casey, Carl, and the baby. Daryl grunts before muttering, "he ain't a rapist." He wasn't a rapist, but he sure did make me more than uncomfortable on multiple occasions. Look at him, the way he talked, the men he hung out with; would he really want that kind of person around the children?

"Well, his buddy is." Daryl was still trying to plead Merle's case. "They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night," I sigh, arms crossing over my chest "C'mon D you know how Merle is, do you really want that around case?" he huffs, trying not to make eye contact as a look of betrayal spreads across his face.

"There's no way Merles gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats," Rick says. I know Rick doesn't want to piss Daryl off, but he also wants everyone in our group to feel safe. "So, yer gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" Rick shakes his head, saying "She's not coming back. " 

"she's not in a state to be on her own" Maggie argues. Maggie and Glenn continue to try and plead Michonne's case. "She did bring you guys to us" Glenn whispers, in a way he's right. Michonne had helped us, but she's already practically gone rogue pointing that damn katana at people. we just don't know what she's capable of yet. "And then ditched us" rick argues, head turning towards Glenn. "at least let my dad stitch her up" Maggie begs, we can't just leave her out for dead, we should at least let Hershel check her out, so she's has the best chance of survival out there, it just the right thing to do. "She's too unpredictable." She's a loose cannon, that's for sure. On one hand, she has proven herself to be beneficial to our group, but on the other hand, she has also shown us that she could be harmful to our group. She's helping us, but also going missing for a long period of time and pointing her damn Katana at us like we're the bad guys.

We're staring at Michonne. She is leaning against the side-view mirror, staring back at us, almost as if she knows we're talking about her. Scratch that, she probably does know because Rick is not trying to whisper at all. He wants her to know she's unwanted, hoping she'll take a hint and scurry off before Rick can boot her out. Daryl nods agreeing with Rick, "That's right, we don't know who she is" he mutters, but he's only agreeing with Rick right now to try to slip in a word about Merle staying with us.

"But merle, merles blood." Daryl says almost acting like we're all some big family. Deep down, I have a feeling he'd run if Merle asked him. We're not blood, I'm not his wife, Casey's not his daughter. I'm his girlfriend, barely even that sometimes, and Casey, she's a little girl who has accidentally grown too attached. The 'D' around my neck means nothing if Merle is asking for something, and I know that. I wouldn't expect him to choose me over his brother, and I know he wouldn't expect me to pick him over mine, even if it would be a difficult decision for me.

Glenn shakes his head in disgust. "No, merles your blood, my blood, my family is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison." We had no ties to Merle, no need to keep him. The only one who did was Daryl. we all know the line we're tittering on, we all know the thoughts and decisions racing through his mind. We all know he's thinking about leaving and going with Merle. that's why my eyes are burning into his with a stare begging him not to. Begging him not to make me go back without him, begging him not to make me explain why he didn't come back. "And you're part of that family, but he's not. He's not"

I can see the anger boiling in his chest, the words he's trying to fight back. "Man, ya'll don't know" We all stare at him waiting for him to say it because we know he is "Fine. we'll fend for ourselves." he finally says it, which almost sends me over the edge. I just want to scream at him. How could he just leave, leave after promising he'd come back? "that's not what I was saying," Glenn says, trying to make Daryl think about his decision. "no, him, no me." It's as simple as that. He didn't think about Casey, Carol, Beth, or hell fucking me. "Daryl, you don't have to do that"

"It was always merle an' I before this" Then he makes eye contact with me, and he sees it, the tears pooling in my eyes that I desperately try to blink back, the begging the pleading, but he doesn't care. "So, you're just gonna leave?" I ask finally breaking my silence. His eyes meet mine. "you'd do the same thing," he mutters. My brother, he wasn't like Merle. He wouldn't be booted out of the group because my brother was a good man. "What do you want me to tell Casey? you promised her you'd come back." he shrugs, almost like he doesn't care. "y/n ya gotta understand this is my brother, my blood. You'd do the same if you found yer's. I know ya would"

"My brother's dead," I say, my voice comes out bitter and harsh. Because how could he bring up my brother, who's dead? Who died trying to help me? How could he compare his racist, misogynistic, absolute scumbag brother to mine? "Then ya should understand. "my arms cross over my chest, and my face twists into a disgusted expression. I can't believe he'd just leave us like that. After everything we've been through. He said he loved me. I thought he thought more of me. I thought this was it. I thought he was going to be my husband.

Daryl starts walking, pushing past Maggie and me, muttering, "Say goodbye to yer pops for me." I spin around on my heels, facing him now rather than Glenn and Rick. I'm practically chasing after him shouting "You're seriously leaving?! After everything we've been through?!" he ignores me and just continues to walk until he gets to the trunk of the car. He opens it and begins to gather his items.

"So, this is it?" I whisper, my hands shoved in my pockets, "guess so" he mutters, my heart drops and tears begin to pool in my eyes once again. "Seriously? What about Casey?" he shrugs, not answering because he knows whatever he's going to say is just going to piss me off. "What about me D? What about us?" a tear falls down my cheek, and my hand reaches up to wipe it away. "you'll get over it," he mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. That hurt me. It felt like a stab to the gut. Did he really think I just get over him like that? He shakes his head, almost as if he was trying to ignore the tears that lined my waterline. he's trying not to care.

I've watched Daryl grow so much as a person in the last year. The man I knew yesterday was a scrap of the man I had met at that quarry. But somehow, with Merle's reappearance, he went back to the Douch bag he was. He no longer cared for Casey, Beth, or Carol. He no longer cared for me. He no longer cared about us. All the late-night conversation meant nothing, the necklace meant nothing, Casey meant nothing. "I-I love you," I whisper, hoping it would change his decision. Hoping the quiet admission of love would snap him back into reality.

"Then stop..." he mutters. His words are so bitter, so calloused they slice right through my heart, breaking it into a million pieces. "ya got whoever that guy is over there, ya got Glenn. know you'll be fuckin' one of them by the end of the week," he mutters. Hot, angry tears begin to fall down my cheeks. How could he say that? Was that really all he thought of me? A slut? Did he think I was only with him for the sex? The sex that was so far in between that I can't recall the last time we had it. Did he not notice how in love I was?

I rip the necklace from my neck and throw it at him. It hits his torso before falling to the ground with a soft thud. The silver metal glimmers in the sun staring up a simple reminder of what we were, and what we could have been. "Fuck you" is the last thing I mutter before wiping my tears and turning to walk back towards the group.

-

The ride back to the prison is a blur. I sit in the back, middle seat, with a shell-shocked look on my face. I don't want to cry, but my body wants me to cry. There's a lump in my throat and I'm desperately trying to hold back tears. The whole ride Glenn muttering quietly to me, "I'm so sorry" "I didn't think he was really going to leave" I don't pay attention to him. I can't listen, I can't pay attention. I just want to be in my head right now. I feel the car stop and feel people leave, but I don't pay it any mind. I don't even pay any mind when I hear the shouting outside. I just want this all to be over.

I'm zoned out until I feel the car park, and everyone gets out. I get out, hands shoved in my pockets. The only thing that knocks me out of my head is the feeling of two little arms wrapping around my leg. "you're back," Casey squeaks as I bend down and pick her up. Her arms wrap around my neck and her head buries itself into my shoulder. I know the inevitable question awaits us, and I still don't know what I'm going to say. When I feel her head leave my shoulder and begin looking around, my heart begins to slam against my chest. "where's Daryl?" she asks eyes still searching, "he...Daryl left"

"Did he die?" she asks, brows furrowing up as I shake my head. I'd rather he had died. It's easier to explain to her that he died rather than he decided to leave us. "No, baby. He found his brother and decided he needed to be with his family." Her brows furrow up even farther, if that's even possible. "I thought we were his family?"

-

When I get back inside, I tell Casey to stay with Carl and go up and find an empty cell. This is when I finally let myself break down. Sitting on the bed with my head in my hand, I just let go. I'm full-on ugly crying, with tears streaming down my face, and snot bubbling out of my nose. I just hate him so much for leaving. Broken sobs escape my lips as I try to keep myself as quiet as possible. I don't want anyone else to know how badly this hurt me.

My chest rises and falls fast with each gasp I take. The only thought that is racing through my mind is why would he do this? How could he do this? Did he really think that I was a slut all this time, or was it Merle's comments about Glenn, and I that suddenly had changed his opinion of Glenn and I's relationship? Did he seriously think I didn't love him?

"You, okay?" a knock on the wall pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Carol. My bottom lip wobbles as I shake my head 'no'. she lets out a sigh as she nods and slowly walks towards me. She takes a seat next to me on the bottom bunk. "You want to talk?" she asks, her arm coming to wrap around my body and pull mine close to hers. I shake my head 'no' once again. I could barely think about him without a blubbering mess, let alone talk about him to someone else.

My head buries into her chest as her left hand rubs small circles into my back. "I know, I know," she mutters as broken sobs erupt from my throat. I just hate him so much for leaving with Merle, but at the same time I want him here, and I want him to hold me. I want to hear him tell me he loves me.

-

I sat in that cell for the rest of the night, not bothering about dinner because I had already felt sick to my stomach. The only human interaction I have is with Casey at bedtime when she cuddles up next to me in the bottom bunk. I can't bring myself to touch the stuff Daryl had left behind, because I know I'll either break it or throw it at a wall.

Casey's eyes were heavy with sleep, and yawns erupted from her every few seconds. She didn't want to sleep on the top bunk. For the past few months, she only knew what it felt like to sleep between Daryl and me. There was always a warm body next to her, no matter what. I can't bring myself to think how last night was for her. Through a yawn, she whispers, "I miss Daryl" I let out a heavy sigh. In a way I miss him, I wish he hadn't made the choice he had made, I wish he would have considered how'd those decisioned would affect us. I wish I didn't have the burden of living the rest of my life wondering if he's alright, so I guess in a way I miss him.

Casey eventually drifted off to sleep, and I quietly slipped out of bed, hoping that everyone else had retired for the night. As I tiptoed down the stairs and into the dimly lit rec room, I noticed Glenn sitting at a table in the far-left corner. He was shrouded in almost complete darkness, with only his hoodie standing out in the dim light. His head faced down; one elbow propped up on the table to hold it up. "How you holdin' up?" I ask, breaking him from his thoughts. I can see him just and let out a tiny gasp. "shit" he mutters under his breath as his head snaps up to see me.

I laugh, a small smile breaking across my face. "sorry" I whisper, walking across the room to meet him at his table. "watcha doin' up so late?" I ask, sliding into the seat beside him. "can't sleep you?" he asks. I shrug, not knowing why I was still up. I felt like I could sleep for a good week if I really tried. "So...did Jack get booted out with the rest...or..." I ask referring to the commotion I had heard earlier that day involving rick. Glenn shakes his head "Nah, didn't wanna upset you anymore than you already were," he says, tiptoeing around the subject of Daryl.

I can't help but feel bad about Glenn and Maggie. Every time I see the black and blue bruises that decorated his face, I can't help but be reminded of who caused it. I hadn't thought about him in years. The only times I was reminded of the faded remembrance of his face were in old family portraits that were in boxes up in my mom's attic.

1992 or 3 maybe, I was three years old in the picture, mom was heavily pregnant, and dad looked so young. I never realized how young both my parents were when they had me until I looked at those photos. Mom looks maybe 19, dad had to be at least 21. He's got me on his hip, we're all pushed in close, one arm around a waist, Dad's face and I's squished together. We looked so happy.

When I saw his face out in the crowd, I was 12 years old again up in the attic, sorting through boxes, finding the dusty portraits. Wondering how he could leave us. I wasn't stupid. I remembered those last few months, the last year. I remembered the drinking, the fighting, the bruises. I remembered the broken potted plants I remembered my brother's broken arm. I just couldn't believe the man who wore such a bright smile could be so evil.

How could he hurt me, hurt my brother, hurt my mom? I feel like I'm sitting in my paternal grandmother's kitchen this time, maybe 15, listening to her blab on and on about his family. His wife, his daughter. His daughter he loved so dearly, the daughter who had replaced me. 'He just loves her so much,' she said 'No one can take away a father's love for their daughter'. I hadn't thought of him since that moment. After that, I gave up on having a dad. I gave up on waiting. I finally realized he just didn't love me, and I couldn't change that.

But yesterday, seeing him again was like a punch to the gut, and finding out that he was the one who hurt my friends that made me furious. I wanted to be the one to hunt him down. I wanted to be the one to kill him. I couldn't wait to see his face when he realized who I was and what I was going to do.

"Glenn, can I tell you something? But you can't get mad" his brows furrow, a sliver of a smile displaying on his lips as his mouth opens to say something. I'm quick to cut him off, finally revealing the hardest secret I've ever had to keep. "the governor is my dad" his eyes widen, and fear sets in quickly, terrified he'll hate me. "What?" he asks, it coming out as a half laugh as he stares at me. His eyes fall up and down my body, examining every single one of my facial features, finding everyone that even slightly resembled Philips. "Are you joking?" he asks, head cocking to the side in disbelief. I shake my head slowly, and he lets out a quiet "oh my god."

"I didn't even know this governor guy was him until I saw him. You're not mad, are you?" he shakes his head, letting my anxieties settle. "No..not mad, just...shocked, yo-you...wow."

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