#she gonna try and make it seem like she doesn't care now every though she lying lol

[prael]

For You

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Masterlist word count: 1,729 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"Wouldn't you prefer if we actually— uh, you know?"

"Nope." It's just one word, but it's delivered amid a smile so bright, with a voice so gentle, and accompanied with a hand so tender, that you know she means it.

"But why?"

"Does there need to be a reason? Other than that I love you." Hanni's voice is so clear, and her face so earnest, that you almost can't bring yourself to protest. Almost.

"But— it just doesn't seem fair."

"Why not?" There's a coyness to her smile like she's just entertaining your thought for the sake of it. Her hand is a little quicker now too, and her breath is a little sharper and hotter on your skin.

"Because I— you're—"

"You don't think I get anything out of this?" She smiles, holding in a laugh like it's the funniest thing she has heard all night. "It makes me feel good to make you feel good. It makes me feel loved."

"Well yeah but..."

"Don't you love it when I do it to you? Don't you want me like this, on my knees?"

"Of course I do, but—"

"Then what's the problem?" Hanni's hand is moving faster now, and it's becoming hard to think straight.

"I— I just feel like I should be doing something."

"But you are." Hanni's voice is growing softer as your breathing gets harder. "You're here with me. You're giving yourself to me, and letting me take care of you." She pauses, smiling gently as she watches your face. "Do you know how happy that makes me? To know that I can have you like this?"

The tension inside of you is building faster now, and Hanni seems to be able to tell. Her hand is a blur, and you can barely keep it together. You struggle to warn her, "But Hanni, your face. Your hair, I'm gonna—"

"I want you to."

"But I don't want to mess up your—"

"I said I want you to," Hanni insists, though her tone still gentle. "Please?"

It's those big baby browns of hers again, with her hand moving even faster now, and her fingers curling, and that last little bit of resistance in you crumbles away. You close your eyes, your body tensing as your hips buck into her hand, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. You open your eyes again as the orgasm finally hits you, and your vision fills with Hanni's smiling face.

She lets out a little gasp of pleasure as your cum spills out over her face. A little bit gets on her hair, but she doesn't seem to care. Her fingers keep moving, drawing every last bit of pleasure out of you until there's nothing left.

"That's it," Hanni says, her voice soft and gentle like she's calming a storm. "Just let it all go."

You try to say something, to tell her how wonderful she is, but the words just won't come out. All you can do is stand there, basking in the warmth of the afterglow, as Hanni presses her face against your cock and kisses you.

"Good boy," Hanni says. She smiles up at you, her face painted in your cum.

Your cock throbs against her cheek, and you let out a little shudder—a small aftershock of sensitivity. The feeling of her rubbing herself against you is almost too much to bear, but also too good to pull away from.

"Did you like that?" Hanni asks, kissing you again, right on the tip. "Did you like cumming all over my face?"

You nod, and she laughs.

"I thought you might." She kisses you once more, and then slowly pulls herself back to her feet. She's still wearing that smile of hers, so bright and warm it feels like you could melt in it. "I loved it too," she says. How the hell does she still look so cute, so wholesome, while defiled in such a sinful way?

You look down at your cock, still hard and pressed up against her thigh. "But, don't you want...?"

"Don't worry about me." Hanni fingers at some of the mess on her face, drawing it between her plump pink lips. "That was just for you."

"I could—"

"Later." Hanni laughs, leaning her slender body against you. "We have all night for you to do whatever you want to me. On me. In me." 

She reaches behind you, taking a few tissues from the box on the countertop and begins to wipe the cum off her face. 

"But for now, we better get back downstairs, everyone will be wondering where we've got to."

You let out a deep sigh, your cock still throbbing, your heart still pounding in your chest. You take one of the tissues and help clean Hanni's face. She smiles at you, her eyes sparkling.

"Such a gentleman," Hanni says, clawing out the bits of you that got into her hair. "Even when you just used me as a cum rag."

You both share a laugh as she cleans up the last of your mess. You help her put her dress back on, and then pull up your trousers. As you head back towards the door, you're suddenly overcome with a warm sense of calmness. A happiness, set in your heart, that you can't really explain.

"Oh," Hanni says, stopping before she turns the doorknob. "One more thing." She wraps her arms around you, pulling you in tight. You feel her body against yours, her warmth, her scent, and she presses her lips to your ear. "Happy birthday," she whispers.

-

That night, it's the grandiose sequel to the sordid original.

"It's all about you," she whispers as she pushes you onto your back. Into the satin, you plunge, into the darkness. She rides you in the quiet of your room, her body bathed in moonlight, her hair tumbling over her naked shoulders. It's slow, and it's sweet, and it's sensual, and it's everything you could have ever wanted.

Hanni leans over you, and every little bit further she pushes, the more she arches her back and moans. Your cock hits her so deep like this, and she loves every moment of it. She blends from a slow grind to this bouncing of her hips. Her thighs slap against you as they shake wildly. Her ass jiggles from the impact of her against your hips, and you can't get enough of it. She's so wet for you, her pussy clenching around your cock, pulling you deeper into her with every thrust. You let your hands wander, grabbing her hips, cupping her breasts, and squeezing her thighs. You're mesmerized by the way her body moves, and you don't think you've ever seen anything so beautiful.

"Don't," she warns when you try to buck your hips to meet her thrusts. "This is just for you."

You groan in frustration, but she ignores you, continuing to ride you at her own pace. You do your best to keep still, letting her take control. Your hands roam her body freely, and she doesn't stop you.

"That's it," she moans as you cup her breasts. "Touch me. I want you to touch me."

Her words are like music to your ears. You squeeze her breasts, letting your fingers brush against her nipples. She moans again, her eyes fluttering shut. The sight sends a shiver down your spine. You can't believe how lucky you are to be able to see her like this. She's so beautiful, so perfect. And she's all yours.

As her moans grow louder, you know she's close. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and you know what this usually means. Hanni will succumb to the pleasure, struggle to stay upright, and finally, fall to your chest and bury her face in your neck. It's adorable, and it’s the signal for you to roll her over, to take control. 

This time, it's different.

Hanni seems to have other plans. When her orgasm comes, she keeps moving, riding you through it. Her body tenses up, and she lets out a long moan. You can feel her pussy clenching around your cock, but she doesn't stop. You've never seen her like this before, so determined to make you come. It's a new side of her, one you've never experienced, and you have to admit, it's ridiculously hot.

Her face is this twisted, blissful mask of pure ecstasy. Her mouth hangs open as she pants, and her eyes are screwed shut. Her hair is plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her cheeks are flushed red. She's never looked more beautiful.

You grip her hips, trying to hold on as she continues to ride you. You don't think you'll be able to last much longer, not with the way she feels around you. You can feel your orgasm building, and you know it's only a matter of time before you explode inside of her.

"Cum," is all she can whisper. It's strained and breathless like it takes all the effort in the world to utter the word.

She looks at you through half-lidded eyes, her gaze so full of lust that you could almost lose it at just a single look. She's never looked so sexy, so desperate, so needy. It's overwhelming, and it sends you over the edge. You groan, gripping her hips tightly as you cum inside her. She lets out a sigh of relief, her body shuddering as she feels your warmth flooding her insides.

"Oh god," she gasps, her body going limp as she collapses onto you. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close as you both try to catch your breath.

There's something in the air—something different. Hanni has always been good to you, but this is something else. This is special.

"Are you okay?" you ask when you're finally able to speak again.

"More than okay," she replies with a tired smile. "That was amazing. I've never felt anything like it."

"Me neither."

She snuggles up against you, resting her head on your shoulder. You run your fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face. You're still buried deep inside her, and she doesn't seem to mind. She seems perfectly content to stay right where she is, with you.

"Best birthday ever," you say quietly, and she lets out a comforting laugh.

[daenysx]

hellooo i just saw open where the reader is shy and it was so sweet but can you write the same context with a more confident reader like she wakes up sees rem and is like 'oh hey its my husband'

hi, i hope you like this!! in this one they have a more established relationship than the shy!reader one <333

remus lupin x fem!reader, fluff

remus likes how your apartment smells.

it's so you. it's like a physical proof of your existence, and remus is grateful for it. he lets himself in quietly, you gave him a spare key weeks ago. he doesn't prefer using it when you can open the door, it's always a delight to see you welcoming him but this time he has to take care of himself. you're sleeping.

he hopes he won't freak you out, he knows you don't have a problem with him coming unannounced and it's a relief even though he always texts you before. he puts the grocery bags on kitchen counter quietly. trying to control where he steps, he comes to your room without making the floor creaking.

your room is not too messy. you always try to convince remus the things are organized in their way, just because they seem messy it doesn't mean they are baby, and remus believes you. you're sleeping soundly in your bed on your right side. you're hugging your pillow, your head on the soft material and your arm on the side.

remus approaches carefully. he sits on the closest empty spot on bed without disturbing you. he doesn't know how to wake you up now, you look so peaceful and honestly, he wants you to get some rest. he rubs a faint finger on your cheek, your eyelashes flutter. blinking your eyes open so slowly, you see remus.

"remus?" you ask, as if you've been dreaming about him and can't believe he's real.

"good morning, pretty." he smiles. "you can keep sleeping, i just wanted to let you know i'm here."

you give him a big big smile and stretch your muscles with a poor attempt. "it's so nice to see you first thing in the morning." you say, leaning on your elbow to kiss his cheek.

"yeah?" remus asks, fixing your bed hair.

"mm-hmm." you nod. "can you do it every day?"

he laughs. "if that's what you want, i can."

you pull him towards you gently, throwing the pillow in the way, and letting remus keep you on his chest. "maybe i should just keep you here." you mumble against him softly.

remus kisses your forehead fondly. you're being too sweet on him and it's so early. he rubs a gentle hand on your back, you should sleep a bit more, or he won't know how to handle your cuteness.

"what time is it?" you ask.

"almost 9 i think." remus answers. "are you tired?"

you snuggle closer. "a little. do you wanna sleep some more? are you hungry?"

remus can sleep with you anytime you want actually. that's like the canon truth of his reality now, you're so warm under the covers and so soft against him. you like waking up before him to kiss his entire face and remus loves opening his eyes to your shameless kisses. he wraps his arm tighter around your body.

"let's sleep, angel." he whispers. "gonna make you pancakes for breakfast."

"we don't have any fruit." you say, sadly.

remus kisses your pout off quickly. "i got you your favorites from the store."

your pout turns into a smile in 2 seconds and you press yourself closer to his neck. "my hero." you say against his ear before kissing the soft skin beneath it. "thank you."

remus adjusts the covers, he kisses you as an answer. your bed is too comfy, he practically melts against you and it's so nice. so nice to have you in his arms first thing in the morning, so nice to have you kiss him sweetly, so nice to be accepted like he belongs here.

he falls asleep before you and you kiss his chin with your eyes closed.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor-The Present

Chapter 1

Synopsis:y/n is a hard working painter, trying to make the ends meet. She lives with and takes care of her sick Uncle, the only one she has for a family. She has dreams to make it big, and when the desperation for money strikes, she has to make a choice. Walk away after listening to an incredible deal that would fix all her problems, or take up the deal. A top secret, risky deal, which involves meeting Harry Styles.A man once rumored to be a dangerous secret weapon of a leading mafia. artist!y/n x mafia!harry (he's also a doctor)

Word Count: 3601

Author's note: This chapter is just a start to what I hope will be a very interesting thriller. This is my fan first fiction, but I've made sure that it's all planned out properly for you guys. Warnings will be mentioned at the beginning of every chapter. Please re blog to support me if you like it! Next chapter will be up very soon:)

Warnings: Talks about mafia, gold smuggling, accident.

___________________________________________

"Ms. y/l/n, this is the second time I'm calling you, I'm afraid I cannot wait longer. I may have to-"

y/n closes her eyes, bringing her index and thumb finger to squeeze at the skin of the bridge of her nose. "No, no! Mr. Timothy please give me some time, I promise I'll send everything I owe you, just give me some time."

She was due on her rent on the little place she and her uncle call as home.

"I can't give you any more time, Miss. By tomorrow 8 pm, or I'll have you evicted.", Mr. Timothy told her on the phone. 

"Yes, um thank you." y/n sighs as she keeps her phone on the table, and looks around at the mess of her living room. It was a small flat, with a decent living room, a comfortable couch, a TV where her uncle usually spends away the day when she's out working, and two bedrooms. 

Her phone beeped, with an alarm to make sure her uncle took her medicines, and she walked to his bedroom. He was resting on the bed, back supported by a pillow as he read a book. He loves books on underworld mysteries and mafias. She never gets it. 

"Uncle Luke, it's time for your meds.", she says. 

From the time she remembers, y/n was raised by her uncle. She doesn't remember having a father, or a mother, she only has her Uncle Luke to call as family. Whenever she asked him about her family, he would stroke her hair and tell her that no one realized how special she was.

She loved her uncle, he was her father figure. Uncle Luke got diagnosed with Alzheimer's a few months back, and he had to retire from his job as a librarian. Sometimes, he appears completely normal. y/n's heart breaks when she sees the painful expression on her uncle's face as he tries to remember something that shouldn't have been that difficult to remember.

"I took them.", her uncle smiles at her, lifting his eyes from the book. "Are you okay? You seem stressed."

She smiles for his sake, nodding. "Just tired. You need anything?"

Uncle Luke shakes his head, before taking her hand. "Is it money? I can help you out, go back to my job-"

"-No, Uncle Luke, I got it.", y/n squeezes his hand. "I just need you to rest up and be okay. I'm gonna try and squeeze in another job, I'll work something out. I've gotta go now."

Uncle Luke nods, gently ruffling her hair. "Off you go, y/n."

"See you in the evening!"

y/n rushes out the door, and takes the train to the cafe. She doesn't work as a barista, the cafe wanted someone to paint beautiful pictures on the canvas while their customers enjoyed their service. The Golden Cup cafe was a beautiful place. Covered with greenery, sweet smelling flowers and little tables around. 

y/n set up her canvas, paints and brushes. "Morning.", her best friend Sania nudges her elbow. Sania works as a server in the same cafe, and they have been best friends since the first day they met.

"Good morning. It's not good though, I hope yours was good.", y/n rambles, stressed about her desperate need for money.

"Woah, what happened?", Sania asks watching her mix a few colors onto her palate. y/n tells her about the rent problems, and Sania nods understandingly. She also had her debt issues, but recently, she was doing well. y/n thought her rough patch would also be over soon, but she had no hope now. 

"I can set you up an appointment with the people I was talking about.", Sania tells her, and it gains her attention. "They can help you."

"I don't want to do anything illegal Sania-"

"-No, it's not illegal. It's off charts, but you're gonna get money in exchange for a task they assign you. It's simple!"

"That task may involve illegal activities.", y/n shakes her head. Last thing she needed was to go to jail, leaving her uncle all alone.

"No, it won't. Come on y/n, they helped me.", Sania smiles at another coworker, and lowers her voice. "You don't even have to agree immediately, you can decide and get back to them. This job isn't going to be enough to make ends meet and you know that. Think about it."

"Sania take table 4 please!"

"Yes.", Sania nodded at y/n. "I have to get back to work."

y/n also had to get to work, she smiled at the customers before putting her brush to the canvas. She doesn't decide on what to paint. She just lets the inspiration take over. The customers watched in awe as her hand moved skillfully, without an effort. y/n didn't think about her problems when she painted. When she painted, she was in her own world where everything was alright. That was why her paintings all turned out extraordinary.

She talked to the customers who came up to her. During her break, she sat with her cold mint lemon tea and thought about everything Sania said. She was right, she needed the money. Just talking with them wouldn't hurt would it? 

She approached Sania later on that day. "I'll um, I'll talk to them."

"Good! I'll set you up a meeting tonight.", Sania smiled and gave her a side hug. "The choice will be yours babe, to take up the offer or not."

y/n looks around nervously as Sania leads her through an alleyway. It was a sketchy place. There were no people around. 

"Are you sure this is the right place?", y/n whispers.

"Yes.", Sania holds her hand. "They like to be discreet."

"Why? Because of their illegal businesses?"

"Stel. I don't know if they have illegal businesses or not, but they won't involve you in anything like that. There, that's the building. Third floor."

"You're not coming with me?", y/n asks as she stares up at the tall building. It looked musty and old. Much like a haunted house.

"No, but I'll wait for you in the car, okay?", Sania says and y/n sighs, wondering if this was a bad idea. "You'll be fine.", Sania assures.

y/n nods, and goes inside the building. She took the elevator, and waited until it got to the third floor. The building didn't look as bad inside.  

"y/n, y/l/n?", a man asks. He was tall, clad in a black shirt and black pants. He had an AirPod in his right ear, an expensive watch on his left arm. 

"Yes.", y/n answers and the man nods, before walking towards the end of the hallway. y/n assumed she was supposed to follow him so she did. They stopped at a room, and he opened it, stepping aside for her to enter. "Please."

The door closed behind her as she entered the room. She noticed the velvety purple couch in the middle of the room, where a bold looking woman sat. Neat white blouse tucked into dark red pants, along with red heels and red lipstick coating her lips made her look like the boss. She was the only one sitting, the other two men were leaning against a table, and the other was looking outside the window, not paying attention to her. They wore similar clothes to the man who brought her here.

The woman looks her down, her dark brown eyes trying to stare into her soul. Her short hair was sleeked back. 

"Miss y/l/n, please take a seat.", she gave her a smile, but y/n knew it wasn't a warm smile, it was more like a challenging smile. 

"Thanks." y/n sits on the chair in front of the woman. "I am Romania Pelt, nice to meet you.", the woman said, no shake of hands. 

"I guess you already know my name.", y/n replies nervously.

"Come on Hans, where are your manners? Ask our guest if she'd like something to drink.", Romania looks at the man leaning on the table and staring at y/n.

"Anything to drink?", he promptly asks.

"Um, mint lemon ice tea?", y/n blurts out nervously, and the man smirks in amusement, before turning around and fixing her a water. "Water will do too, thank you.", y/n takes a sip, and keeps the water on the table, before keeping her hands on her lap. 

"So Miss y/l/n, we know about the trouble you're in and we want to help you out.", Romania tells her.

"If you want to help me out, I have to do something for you. Let me tell you, I will not take part in anything involving illegal issues like drug dealing, or sexual favors for anyone.", y/n put it out.

"Okay.", Romania nods. "Anything else?"

"You know illegal includes dealing with unauthorized guns, stealing, trespassing-"

"We're aware what illegal covers.", Romania cuts her off, and the man chuckles like she was funny. "You're right about doing us a favor. Let me tell you about it."

y/n nods. "We have a big business, all around the world. We do a lot of things, which involves a lot of side operations.", Romania said in a way y/n wouldn't know what the things were. "But now we're at a little bit of a loss."

"I um can't help you with business.", y/n murmurs.

"I know. But you can help us bring back our main player."

y/n raises an eyebrow as Romania continued. "He was our leader. He was the best at everything. Masterplans, hacking, leading our opponents into traps. He was mainly in charge of the gold smuggling. One night when he was travelling with the gold along with his partner, something happened between them. All we know is that there was a blast, and his partner died. The gold was gone too."

"He didn't die?", y/n asked.

"No.", Romania smiled. "Harry Styles does not go down easily."

Harry Styles. y/n liked the story but she didn't like what she was going to hear. "In the blast, Harry suffered a severe head injury. He was in a coma for a while, but he came back. Unfortunately, he doesn't remember anything that happened.", Romania said. "He has forgotten everything about his past life. We know it must have scared him deeply, losing his partner. She was his lover. Reagan Jones. She was the only one in our unit who was just as good as Harry. They both were literally, a power couple."

y/n felt bad for the guy. "When Reagan died, Harry permanently lost a piece of him too. Not a small piece. A large part of his past life."

"W-What's he doing now?", y/n asks.

"He is a doctor.", Romania says. "Only we knew him as who he was. On the outside he maintained an image as our Doctor. He remembers about being a doctor, so that's how he's leading a living now. Everyone knew about Reagen and not to mess with her, but Harry was our secret weapon, and we need him back. We've given him enough time to sulk about Reagen. It was unfortunate, and we all hate that we lost her but we need Harry back in his bearings."

"What do you want me to do about that?", y/n asks confused.

"You need to befriend him.", Romania says. "Talk to him, get to know him. We heard from Sania that you love talking, and you're great with customers. So do your thing. Eventually, we need you to ask him about what happened that night, what really went wrong, where is the gold?"

"You just said he doesn't remember."

Romania and Hans smile, even the man who was looking outside the window up until now and ignoring y/n, now turns around. "You are going to make him remember.", he said in his gruff voice.

"I'm not a brain surgeon!", y/n scoffed out a laugh. Who do these people think she is?

"We think Harry remembers everything. But he is putting on a show, a mask, to hide whatever he knows. He knows something huge, that's why he does not want to come back to his old life. We need to crack his shell somehow. We've all tried y/n, but someone like you is who we need. Do whatever you need to do, but please, you have to make him remember." Romania had a desperation to her voice now. "Oliver, please."

The bearded gruff man Oliver, pulls out a wad of cash. "Thirty thousand dollars, you can take this now, if you accept our deal."

y/n's eyes widens at the cash. "It's not black, it's real money.", Romania assures. "And on completion of the task, we will give you the rest. Five hundred thousand dollars in total."

"W-Why would you pay me so much?"

"Because this is important to us. We need Harry back.", Oliver says slowly. "I need my best friend back."

Hans pats his arm like he was offering the man comfort. "You'll have to report to me weekly, and you get four weeks to make him remember.", Romania says.

"Four weeks?!", y/n was surprised. How can she make a man remember things he doesn't want to remember in four weeks?

"You can do it.", Romania tells her. "Let me show you his picture. Hans?"

Hans nodded and handed y/n a photo. "That's him. The most wanted man. By now, our opponents also know about Harry. They knew Reagan alone couldn't carry off what she did. So Harry has a lot of people wishing him dead. They don't want to risk him remembering and going back to the person he was."

y/n looked at the photo of the man as the thoughts ran in her mind. A man who lost his lover, and lost his memory. Now he's living without knowing that he is a live target for the big thugs. He was handsome, y/n thought. Luscious brown hair, styled neatly, a little and his green eyes were so deep, like they held a forest inside them. This was the person she was supposed to befriend.

"You can take your time to think about it, give me a call by tomorrow.", Romania slides her card over to y/n. "Nice talking to you, Miss y/l/n."

"I'll escort you outside.", Hans says, and y/n understand that they're done talking to her.

_____________________________________________________________

"Well he's a handsome man, Reagan must have been lucky.", Uncle Luke says as y/n shows him the photo of Harry and tells him the story. y/n shared everything with Uncle Luke. Sania was her best friend, but she still didn't share some things with her that she would with Uncle Luke. 

"Well she's dead.", y/n mumbles. "What do you think?"

"This man must be important.", Uncle Luke says, and y/n nods. "If they're willing to pay so much just in return for his memory."

"What if he doesn't want to remember Uncle Luke?", y/n asks softly. "Reagen died. That must have scarred him deeply. Maybe there's something more to it. Maybe someone attacked them and he couldn't save her. He must be in pain, that's why his mind is shutting it all off."

"Don't get personal, darling.", Uncle Luke advises. "We don't know what kind of a man Harry was, so don't feel for him. Your job is just to befriend him and make him remember."

"I'm too curious to let this go now.", y/n says. "I only read about mafias in novels! I told Sania they were real."

"Mafia?", Uncle Luke laughs. "You confirmed they're mafia?"

"Of course. Business, she said. So secretive! You had to see the building and all the men.", y/n laughs too. "You're right, I won't get personal. I just need the money. Maybe we can get out of this town sooner than we thought, Uncle Luke."

Her uncle smiles, patting her hand as he closes her eyes. "Reena said she'll come over for dinner."

y/n's smile freezes as she hears that. Reena was Uncle Luke's daughter, she had died in a fire. She hates when the disease does this. Uncle Luke had early onset Alzheimer's, so it wasn't as bad as him not being able to recognize her. But she still hated it. 

"I'll make her favorite pasta.", y/n whispers, fluffing his pillow. "You get some rest, Uncle Luke. I love you."

She had to get him the best care. He took care of her all her life. She took the card, and called Romania.

"Miss y/l/n, good to hear from you.", Romania's voice says.

"I'll do it.", y/n said before she could change her mind. "I'll bring his memories back."

___________________________________________

She decided to go with the classic method of meeting first. Go out for drinks. y/n wasn't a big drinker, most of the time. She wasn't going to drink too much today, she wanted to be sober enough to remember everything she got out of the man. 

Romania sent her the details of the hospital in which Harry worked, and told her that he goes to the bar down the street after his working hours sometimes. y/n hoped this would be one day like that, as she set out to the bar. y/n wore a chrome yellow fluffy, silky top along with her jeans and heels. She let her hair out. 

She looked around the bar as she entered, not spotting her target. She decided to wait.

"What would you like, ma'am? New here?", the bartender smiles at her. 

"Uh yes, first time here." She skims through the names of the drinks. 

"First drink on the house. I'll get you our special cocktail?", he asks.

"Okay!" 

Anything on the house sounded amazing.

"I'll be right back.", he winks at her and goes away. y/n turned on her chair to continue scanning the crowd. The bartender was cute, but she had stuff to do.

Her drink came faster than Harry, and she was disappointed he wouldn't come to the bar that night when she finally saw him.

The photo didn't do justice. Harry Styles stood tall, six feet two at least, she thought. His stubble had grown out, and his hair had curls peeking out. Sharp cheekbones that could slice through skin and strong shoulders that hid beneath his light blue shirt. 

He appeared stressed as he ran a hand through his hair, and sat on the empty chair a few seats away from her. "Usual.", he nodded at the bartender, who got to making his drink right away. y/n watched him roll his shirt sleeves back, and sit with his head on his hands. He must have had a rough day.

Then he lifted his head up suddenly and looked straight at her, like he knew she had been watching him. Their eyes connected for a second, before he looked away. 

y/n felt a shiver up her spine. 

That was close, y/n breathed as she sipped the concoction. 

She waited until he had drowned a drink, of what looked like whiskey, before she made her move. 

She gave him her best smile as she took the seat next to him. "Hi, rough day?"

He didn't spare her a look, but he grunted in reply.

Very polite.

"I had a rough day too.", y/n goes on. "Being an artist isn't easy. Sometimes it's hard to get into the creative head space. I had some decisions to make today, and that interfered with my work."

"Artist?", his voice was smooth and deep.

"Yes. I paint.", she answers. "What do you do?"

"ER Doctor.", he looks at her with those eyes looking like they were brimming a storm behind them. "I like art."

"You do? You should come to the cafe sometime, then.", y/n says, treading on careful steps. 

"I don't get time to take a stroll into a cafe.", Harry scoffs, taking a big gulp of his drink. 

"Your job is difficult.", y/n agrees. "Do you like being a doctor?"

Harry tilts his head to study her. "Yes."

y/n waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. Great. He does love talking.

"What do you like about art?", she asks. That, she could talk about.

"The colors.", he answers, looking away from her again. "They have a hidden meaning, most of the time. The artist might not even have an idea when they start, but it turns out beautiful when they're done. Like they gave life to it."

That was the most he had told her since they started talking, and Stella smiled at his description. "I have a small studio too, you should stop by when you have time, Doctor-"

"Turner.", he completes. "Harry Turner."

Either he changed his last name, or he doesn't remember. y/n offers her hand to shake. "y/n, y/l/n."

He nods, and she feels the rough callouses of his fingers as it brushes hers. His hand was warm, and she liked the feel of it on hers. It made her feel safe. Why did it make her feel like that? Why did she feel like it was a familiar hand?

Chapter Two

[archangeldyke-all]

could you please write vika with a reader who has a hard time gaining weight but needs to? maybe just taking care of them, scolding them, reassuring them, etc. it'd be really helpful.

(tw: ed, you don't need to include this) i've been doing my best to recover from being heavily underweight but it's frustrating because of the mindset and my body working against me, it makes me feel so desperate, so anything helps! feel absolutely free to ignore this if you feel uncomfortable please, i won't mind 🫶🏻

of course!!

men and minors dni

when your doctors give sevika the go-ahead to start tracking your food and making sure you eat enough every day, she's thrilled.

your entire relationship, sevika's always wanted you to eat more. you're underweight, unhealthily so. she tried her best to get you to eat-- insisting you buy your favorites on date night in an attempt to get you to eat the whole plate, carrying snacks in her pockets to hand to you every hour or so-- but you'd usually just refuse her.

now though-- sevika's grinning evilly as she walks you back to the car from your doctor's office.

"what're you smiling about?" you ask, worried. sevika's usually so upset after your doctor's appointments-- worried about you.

sevika cackles. "your doctor just gave me the green light to give you the fuckin' royalty treatment babe." she says, grinning. you groan, and sevika starts to chuckle. "i'm talkin' breakfast in bed, every morning."

you snort, and sevika grins. "you think i'm joking-- but i'm not! you can't say no to treats anymore-- i'm gonna fuckin' spoil you!"

you just laugh, not knowing what you've gotten yourself into.

the next morning you're awaken to sevika entering the room with a full american breakfast. pancakes, hashbrowns, eggs and fruit-- it was all there. you cackle.

"there's no way i can eat all of that!"

sevika giggles and shrugs, climbing into bed next to you. "that's what i'm here for." she says.

and... surprisingly... you manage to eat a lot more food with sevika by your side, rubbing your back and hand-feeding you each bite, between her own bites.

and while the fanciness of your breakfasts vary-- it becomes a daily tradition in your house to eat breakfast in bed together.

(of course, sevika always complains when climbing in bed at night about the toast and cereal crumbs left behind in the sheets-- but that never stops her from bringing you a meal each morning.)

once she establishes one good, hearty meal in your day to day life, she takes it a step farther.

she learns to bake for you.

it's a lot of trial and error, but after a few burnt pastries, and one embarrassing call to the fire department, she managed to figure out the perfect cookies.

and every night before bed, sevika sits down beside you with a big glass of milk, and you guys snack on cookies before bed.

each week, she'll make a new batch. she loves to experiment with flavors, trying to find one that you'll love even more than last time. her favorite is snickerdoodle-- but she doesn't bake for herself. she bakes for you.

she starts offering you snacks more and more often.

sometimes, you take them without complaint.

but, sometimes everything catches up to you, and eating seems like the scariest thing in the world.

sevika sits with you, holding you the entire time as you cry and breathe through your anxiety, slowly stroking your back and kissing your head.

and then, whether it's ten minutes or two hours later-- sevika will sit beside you, kissing your head through each bite of your snack, praising you and thanking you for taking care of yourself.

"i want you around forever, baby. thank you for makin' it more likely." she whispers.

when you return to the doctor's one month later for a check-in-- sevika cries tears of joy when you step on the scale and have gained a dozen pounds or so.

she lets out a sweet sob of relief, right before she wraps her arms around your waist and spins you in a circle in the middle of the doctor's office. you squeal, and a bunch of nurses give you dirty looks, but this does nothing to keep sevika from pressing endless kisses on your head and face.

"oh, i'm so fuckin' proud of you, love." she whispers through her tears.

you get the same reaction in subsequent months, as your weight steadily, healthily climbs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

[crypticenbug]

I'm a barista in my day-to-day life, and my brain is currently full of bees at the moment so I am subjecting you to what twitter already had to see:

All of the different Papas and what they get at their local coffee shop:

Nihil (Younger): He would get black coffee and insist he likes it but he actually thinks it's gross, but he refuses to get anything else cause it's cheap and he thinks it makes him look cool

Nihil (Older): Extra hot hot chocolate with 9 pumps of chocolate syrup, 3 pumps vanilla, no foam and a mountain of whipped cream (This is an actual order that a regular of mine gets. She's like 90 so her RN comes in for her). He's too old and dead to care about the amount of sugar he's consuming, that's Sister's problem now

Sister (Younger): She actually likes black coffee but only ever gets it out of convenience. If she's at a coffee shop, she's gonna get a latte, usually hot, and she will cycle through sugar free vanilla, mocha, hazelnut, and caramel. She's a classy lady who likes classy flavors, though she wouldn't mind a cold brew or shaken espresso from time to time.

Sister (Older): Her tastes on coffee kinda stay the same but she drinks a lot more tea now, goes for decaf more often and doesn't branch out as much. She starts enjoying cappuccinos as she gets older

Primo: He also drinks a lot of teas, but if he does get coffee it's gonna be black with a little room for cream and sugar but not a whole lot cause he enjoys trying to pick out the flavor notes of the coffee like he's at a wine tasting.

Secondo: His order will always be a hot french vanilla latte and if the shop doesn't have french vanilla he does hazelnut, idk why his coffee order came up so easily for me he reminds me of a regular I have

Terzo: Only brother who gets iced coffee year round, and he is NEVER consistent with his order besides the fact that it's an iced latte with some sort of flavored syrup. Loves asking his barista to surprise him and he always ends up loving the drink. Isn't lactose intolerant but doesn't like the texture of dairy milk so he gets a lot of alternatives and has gone through every one to pick one he likes. Right now it's almond milk

Cardinal Copia: Doesn't go to coffee shops very often but when he does, he gets something from the bev case and a cup of ice or he asks about any seasonals. Not a huge fan of coffee unless it is so sweet it would give someone a heart attack. Much like Terzo he hates the texture of dairy milk, he seems like the type to prefer soy

Papa Copia: Still enjoys seasonals, but so far his consistent order has been a pumpkin white mocha or a peppermint hot chocolate, both kids temp. Yes he wants whipped cream, what do you take him for?

Frater Imperator: Still hates bitter coffee, but has actually developed a taste for it now, enjoys whipped cream but keeps forgetting to ask for it until he gets his drink and takes a sip

(Lmk if y'all want my nameless ghoul coffee shop headcanons)

[chrrychills]

hi!!! i was wondering if you could write about reader saving the sbg characters from getting a major injury but getting hurt in the process?

you're gonna be the one that saves me .

main six « s/o getting injured!

ashlyn banner:

•she's immediately by your side, scolding you, trying to stop the bleeding and minimizing the pain.

•"why would you do that– you're bleeding!"

•she's so worried, her guilt is practically insurmountable. she's supposed to protect everyone and keep them safe– keep you safe. and now you're injured because of her.

•she literally will not leave your side until she knows you're okay. if it's a particularly grotesque injury, she's the first to kick into action like how she did when they found tyler impaled.

•you're gonna have to reassure her that it isn't her fault– you got injured because of your own decisions. there's a good chance she'll still be blaming herself, though.

•expect apologies. a lot of them. even if she knows, logically, that it isn't her fault, knowing you got injured protecting her made her heart shatter.

•scolds you every time you try to do anything physically taxing. she forces you to rest until your injury heals.

aiden clark:

•he's trying not to show it, but he's freaking out internally. he'll scold you too, but in a much more lighthearted way in comparison to ashlyn.

•"why are you going and getting yourself hurt? i'm durable, you know that. i would've been fine."

•holding you the entire time. ben's the only one he trusts to patch you up, and even then he's sitting right next to you, squeezing your hand tighter than usual.

•after you're patched up, he's still checking on you constantly. it would be annoying if you didn't know how worried he was.

•he's a lot more protective over you until you're healed. even after your injury's healed, he's still trying his best to keep you out of harm's way.

•although he never explicitly states it, you can tell how scared he was watching you get hurt. he would've started spiraling if he wasn't so focused on you.

•100% teases you about it once you're okay again. he loves you, but he also loves annoying you.

ben clark:

•his first instinct is white, hot rage. but seeing you, covering in blood, shaking and in pain makes that urge dissipate. he's immediately by your side, trying to calm you down as best he can.

•he's amazing with first aid, so he's the one patching you up. his hands are shaky and kind of unstable as he does it, though. the sight of you with such a bad injury makes him nauseous.

•he's so guilt-ridden. no matter how many times you reassure him that you're okay and it isn't his fault, there's still a pit in his stomach that seems like it's never gonna go away.

•he's a lot more doting and caring. not that he wasn't already, but it's increased tenfold now that you're injured. you're tired? sleep on his shoulder. your legs hurt from walking? piggyback ride. you're hungry/thirsty? he has your favorite food and a bottle of water in his bag.

•ben has a very comforting presence, so it's hard to freak out when he's around. even though you're hurt, you're much more focused on him than the pain.

•probably gets you flowers/ a small gift to communicate how sorry he is.

tyler hernandez:

•at first, he just kind of stares at you. he's in shock and trying to process what the fuck just happened.

•after it registers, though, he's glued to your side. he's lowkey yelling at you, putting pressure on the wound and snapping at anyone who tried to help.

•"you idiot! why would you do that?!"

•he doesn't mean it, he's just worried. he's been super overprotective of you from the get-go, so watching you get injured makes him feel like he failed to protect you.

•everyone has to fight to get him to let up and allow ben to bandage your injury.

•doesn't let you leave his sight for weeks after that. just the thought of you getting injured that badly again is enough to send him into a paranoid fit.

•he's already clingy in private, but that increases tenfold. he's practically smothering you whenever he gets the chance. there's also the quiet, whispered apologies you can barely hear.

taylor hernandez:

•she's surprisingly calm. logically, she knows panicking isn't gonna help you in any way, so she buries the fear and addresses it later, when you're bandaged up and safe.

•like ben, taylor has a very comforting presence, so everyone trusts her to calm you down and keep you distracted from the pain.

•taylor has some pretty good first aid knowledge, so she'll help patch you up and make sure the wound doesn't get infected.

•after everything's said and done, she'll finally let her emotions catch up to her and break down. she holding you and crying, telling you how sorry she is and that she never wanted you to get hurt.

•just console her, reassure her it isn't her fault and you're glad she's okay and uninjured. she needs the reassurance.

•isn't very overprotective after because she knows you can handle yourself, but she will check on you to make sure you're doing okay.

logan fields:

•logan can't do much in terms of first aid, but he can be there for moral support! granted, he probably needs the support more than you do with the way he's freaking out, but the thought is still there.

•a lot of apologies while you're getting patched up. tyler has to tell him to cut it out because he's stressing you out for him to stop apologizing and help calm you down.

•once he's calmed down, he's actually really helpful and comforting. he's grabbing you whatever you need and staying by your side if you ask.

•after you're all bandaged up, he'll give you a lecture (which is hardly a lecture and more of a worried ramble) about how you shouldn't be putting yourself in danger so recklessly.

•doesn't let you do much of anything while you're recovering. he doesn't want you to overexert yourself and end up making the wound worse.

lacey's notes: three posts in a row i'm on a roll rn

...what if i said i'm debating on not writing for logan anymore 😁. how much would u guys not like that😁.

IDK HOW TO WRITE HIM (also i lowkey don't like him as much as the others sorry)

title inspiration:

[imrllytootiredforthis]

More on sub bully yandere pretty plz 🥺🙏

i'm gonna do gyu again just bc sub bully=beomgyu (kinda a part two to this)

afterwards he just gets meaner and meaner. for a multitude of reasons-

one being that you humiliated him in front of the entire school, and now he needs to get back at you,

and the other being that he's head over fucking heels in love with you now and has zero idea how to talk to a crush other than bullying them

so he continues to fight with you. threaten you, insult you, release compromising photos of you taken by his own hand (which he also uses on lonely pent up nights)

he's an asshole. who doesn't know when to quit.

you don't exactly make it easy for him though.

every time he's harassing you, you're there with a blank face, arms crossed. giving nothing away, and taking every ounce of satisfaction away from him. knowing entirely that if his group of friends weren't standing there backing him up you could do whatever you wanted to him-and he'd let you.

but you don't.

because unlike him, you pride yourself of being a decent human being.

that somehow just makes him angrier though. makes him try harder to piss you off.

spilling your food all over your clothing, laughing as he lets out an "oops, sorry, i didn't mean to." all while cackling with his friends.

egging your car and writing on it with spray paint, causing damage he knows you don't have the money to fix.

he wants you to be angry. he wants you to be so pissed at him, at everything he's done to you that you just can't hold it in anymore. he wants you to finally snap and grab him by the neck. kiss him until he's breathless and dumb (his very first kiss) and then fuck him to oblivion and back (his very first fuck).

beomgyu wants you to put him in his place, unlike so many other people in his life that don't care as he walks all over them.

and it only takes a single thing for you to snap.

him loudly talking to you in the middle of class, taunting the fact that you somehow got a lower mark than him. leaning across the isle to get up into your face, smirking his dumb smirk.

you simply ignore him, preferring not to add to the scene until the teacher zeroes in on the two of you, looking unimpressed as she sends the both of you to detention.

--

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! what the hell is wrong with you?"

nothing. he only smiles back sweetly.

"i have shit that i need to do, places i have to be! records that i need to keep! i don't need to spend my time in detention with your sorry ass!"

nothing.

"you're so annoying, you hear me?"

infuriating fucking prick. absolutely nothing.

"a fucking brat who doesn't know how to man up and be a normal person. instead you're acting like a pussy, too scared to ask me out hmm? a pathetic loser virgin."

something.

his cheeks are flushed red, his face so close your noses are practically touching, his hands gripping onto the desk.

"yeah, is that what you are? a brat and a pathetic loser virgin?"

your hands on either side of his shoulders against the chair, trapping him in place. he's painfully hard in the confines of his pants.

the room around is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. the teacher had left awhile ago, not that she was supposed to, she just did and told you guys to behave.

the detention class was completely silent now. just the sound of your heavy breathing, his shallow pants and his heart beating so fast it seems as if it's about to leap out of his chest.

"say it."

his mouth feels dry, his body feels hot.

"say that you're a pathetic loser virgin and then maybe i'll take care of that for you, okay?"

his eyebrows knot together as you press a hand against him, biting his lip to hold back a moan. "i-..."

you nod, prompting him to continue.

"i'm a...pathetic virgin loser!" his eyes squeeze shut as he breathes it out, whining lowly under his breath. "i'm sorry! all i wanted was your attention!"

when he opens his eyes again, you're smiling.

"okay then. you have my attention now." you sit back against your own chair again. "come here."

he begins to stand up. "on your knees, beomgyu." face burning in shame, dick throbbing with humiliation, he shuffles towards you on his hands and knees until he sits between your legs.

"good boy." he shivers. "now, if you wanna take care of that, you're going to have to get off on my leg."

he looks at you as if you've grown a second head, as if you're crazy. he searches your face for any sign that you might be joking. "go on you mutt."

[venus-is-thinking]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 14: Initial Thoughts

What an episode! I can't believe that we're probably starting to near the end of the Trial. But, considering we're almost there, we DEFINITELY have a lot to talk about. It's a longer episode, and there's a LOT to go over, so buckle in!

SPOILER WARNING FOR DRDT CH 2 PART 2!

T/W: Murder, hanging (with depictions)

The Reactions

Hu is literally so pretty.

I wasn't expecting her to get a whole mechanic defending Nico, but it makes sense. Letting other students cut in during the Class Trial is a great way to draw specific attention to a character point, and it's very clear that Hu's over-defense of Nico is going to be important moving forwards.

RIP to my "using the weight rack as the carousel" theory. The fan probably makes more sense. I just still have no idea how the 300-ish pound or whatever weight rack managed to get knocked over in the struggle.

I'm glad they directly pointed this out. Trying to kill everyone in the Class Trial was the EXACT thing Hu was so pressed about David doing. It's a weird double standard to be so forgiving of Nico when they tried to do the same thing.

Insane thing to say if Eden is the culprit and killed Arei because she didn't believe her. Then again, if my explanation for a lot of Eden Trial dialogue is "she's speaking out of regret for killing Arei now that she knows Arei was being legit," maybe she's just calling herself cruel as well.

This is honestly very valid.

Do you think "here" implies Nico trusts someone in the outside world? Based on their secret, it seems like they probably didn't have many friends. Could also be referring to animals? Or Mai Akasaki?

Big psychic damage to Hu though, considering we know she thrives on other people relying on her. She wants Nico to be someone who relies on her sooo bad, but they just... don't.

Like, girl. They literally JUST said that they don't trust anyone. That includes you.

She's clearly projecting in some way, though, which is definitely an oof. I wonder if Hu wishes she had someone who was undeniably on her side in the past...?

(To be clear: I think Hu is a very well written and interesting character. She fits the fucked up vibes of Despair Time, but coming from a more surprising angle of "that really nice and caring person can also be fucked up." She's just clearly in the wrong here, so I get to clown on her as I clown on everyone else.)

Ace is honestly so valid for this. Like, yeah he's kind of a bully and he sucks sometimes, but. Like. He did almost get murdered and people are, like, mad at him for it? Huh???

If Ace does end up being the Chapter 2 killer because he snapped, I honestly think he's so valid for that.

It is my personal agenda to record every instance of J being notably anti-murder. I don't know where it's going but if it does go somewhere I want my credit because it is Apparent.

(The entire fanbase nods in agreement.)

I know some people definitely still think/thought that Hu and/or Nico was responsible for the crime, so we've all DEFINITELY been squinting at that alibi. I fully believe it's true, but that doesn't change the fact that I wouldn't put it past Hu to make a fake alibi to protect Nico. Idk if Nico would go along with it, though.

I got so jumpscared by the Closing Argument-style CG.

I'm so glad we did get a definitive answer on how this thing worked. I was so afraid that we were just gonna solve the Arei murder method and the exact solution of Ace's would be a "left to audience interpretation" kind of thing.

I'm not exactly sure where the blood on Ace's fingertips comes from? Maybe he cut his hand on the wire when he was trying to struggle after he woke up or something.

This makes so much more sense than anything I saw theorized though, lol. The fan falling from drop hanging totally checks out as a way that the murder mechanism could fail.

I have NO fucking clue why Nico opted for this as the murder mechanism, though. I get wanting to use Hu's wire to frame her, but why didn't you just cut Ace's throat with the wire in the first place???

where did their cape go :(

Potentially suspicious line from Ace? I don't know what he's referring to as "go through all this." Like, maybe just reliving the murder attempt, I guess...? Could also be going through the Class Trial, though, if Ace killed as a result of Nico trying to kill him.

*Levi's secret quote looms*

Things that make me think Nico is either a victim or a survivor. Like, are you really gonna say this and then go try to kill someone else? ...Or Ace again, I guess??

Fun fact: this was actually what guided me to my initial killer picks, before I discussed with anyone else or read any theories! I thought the killer was trying to frame Nico, so it had to be Eden or Ace. The tape and everything else was just what locked it in for me. It's fun to see Teruko follow more or less the same path that I did when I was trying to solve the mystery :)

TAPE TIME :D

The use of the Bound Wrists truth bullet actually really confused me at first bc I didn't realize we were just talking about the tape. I was like, were Arei's wrists bound because Ace's were and it was intended to be another similarity???

Maybe Eden's just being nice, but I find it really suspicious that her instinct after all this time is "didn't MonoTV take it" and not "oh I guess Ace is probably the murderer."

Teruko has now outlined two different ways that it makes sense if the killer was in the gym that night. If I were Eden, and I were innocent, I would be realizing that there's a very small suspect pool left, and I know that I'm not the killer, giving me additional information. Instead, she's questioning the validity of the tape argument, which isn't useful for narrowing down the killer-- it's useful for keeping the suspect pool wider and not leaving herself as one of three (but basically two) options.

I kinda get why people are upset with Rose here, but it's also kind of an oof because they're only mad because Rose is really smart. Like, no one's out here like "oh my god Ace you didn't recognize the tape??" Y'know, because they think he's stupid. Rose has a really good memory, which raises the standards really high, which sets Rose up for failure.

In Rose's defense, she also never saw the tape in Nico's gym murder OR on the carousel for Arei's murder. She only saw the pieces in the trash can, which seemed to be inside out. Against Rose's defense, it would probably have been for the best if she'd gone in to look at the crime scene.

Am I tripping, or is "fish misunderstanding" a weird way for David to phrase this? The misunderstanding with Teruko was assuming that the murder happened last night, which was in fact because of the fish-- but the thing Teruko should have noticed, which makes it Teruko's mistake specifically, was the body swinging.

I'm probably reading into things too hard, but it's so hard with David. What do you know!!!

Damn, Teruko is SPEEDRUNNING this character arc. Considering we basically know she's locked in for all 6 chapters, I'm really surprised to see her making this much progress this fast.

I'm guessing that this means that Teruko is probably due for a major setback sometime sooner or later. But, interestingly, this makes me feel like Teruko realizing that working alone doesn't work isn't her character arc's end destination; it's the willingness to open herself up to caring about others even in the face of the consequences of losing someone you love. Teruko is closing herself off from everyone because she knows she's going to lose them. Maybe her end destination is allowing herself to love people, even if she might lose them someday.

This was fruity as hell btw. I'm starting to think Rose may be our replacement support if Charles does die in Chapter 3.

It's so funny that this is basically Teruko claiming in-universe protag privilege. Go off, queen.

I also said something along the lines of "Hu are we really doing this again." Totally forgot that the BDA is still relevant, lol.

I personally find the way Veronika phrased this to be very telling from an author's POV. Veronika doesn't say "she must not have committed the murder," she says "she must not have witnessed the murder." It would be totally reasonable for any of the students to forget that the rule is written in a way where a killer could fail to see the moment of murder, but DRDTdev wanted to draw attention to the rule's exact phrasing again, which is a deviation from the phrasing in the canon games.

To be clear here, I stand by this even if Eden isn't the killer and the BDA group really is Eden/Whit/Teruko. I still think it could be a reminder for a future chapter when it comes up. But, I don't think it makes sense to change the phrasing of a base rule unless there's a specific reason you want it to be different. Whether now or later, this feels like a reminder that it IS possible for the blackened to trigger the BDA.

I don't necessarily "believe David," per se, but I do think it's interesting that we're drawing attention to this. I don't really think it matters, especially because I doubt the characters remember, but I'd place my bets on Eden being the last one because of that, "Teruko, wait!" thing.

It doesn't matter because, if David or anyone else saw the body, no one can confirm which two of Teruko, Whit and Eden set off the BDA, but it's an interesting note.

It's so funny how no one, fanbase or in-universe, can tell if David is lying though. Like, he COULD have seen it, but he also easily could just be making shit up to try to throw the Trial again.

will I EVER understand what the fuck this man is cooking

Why. I thought you wanted to end the killing game to finish what Xander started. I don't know what's happening :( /pos

My guess for now is just that he's still trying to kill Teruko, in keeping with Xander's plans?? Idk how making her more distrustful makes her more likely to die, though.

I do find it very interesting that Eden's approach/reaction has been to be very quiet and freaked out whereas Ace's approach/reaction is to freak out VERY loudly. Ace's is fitting because what does he do other than freak out loudly, but I might have expected Eden to do... idk, something else? It makes enough sense though, considering either the group is right to suspect her, or she's still coping with losing Arei a little bit ago.

...*squints REALLY fucking hard*

The music and voice acting in this section is REALLY fucking good. It's sad/charming/soft enough that it feels like it could be genuine, but there's still a little something that makes you have to question whether or not it's real. You WANT to believe Eden, but it's so hard to do so fully.

Y'all think Eden's crying is reminding Teruko of whatever Arei's crying reminded her of?

i'm out of images :(

I really like Teruko assuming that Eden is innocent first. She's too distrusting and also reasonable (it is life or death after all) to just hard clear Eden based on nothing, but she's offering a bit of a reprieve to Eden. Eden's friendship means that she isn't going to get immediately targeted in her most down moment, and that's it. It's a small way to show Eden she does care.

On another note, the fact that Eden got to hug Teruko and that Teruko said the "let go of me" NOW is honestly one of the main reasons I trust Eden more. I felt like that was obviously going to happen, but I was expecting the post-Trial. Putting it here is wild.

Theory Update/Analysis

Oh boy, it's accusing time! It makes sense that we're going to start with Ace. At this point, I can honestly see it going either way. Major props to DRDTdev either way, but ESPECIALLY if Eden really is the culprit. I was so confident in it, but they're really making me question my assumptions.

I think that both Ace and Eden have good reasons to be the blackened or not to be, and good reasons to die here or to not. I'm going to do my best to make a list of reasons for both characters and give a bit of my thoughts on them. They're roughly ranked in most to least important order imo, but I didn't think too hard about it.

EDEN

Reasons Eden Would Be The Blackened:

THE TAPE: It would be easier for her to take the tape than Ace, as attention was on Ace in the gym. The tape's disappearance from the background also happens to coincide with Ace knocking her over and her standing back up.

THE NOTE: Eden already knows all the info she would need to know to write that note. She could have put the note back together to give herself a defense, to try to disprove herself as the culprit with her handwriting, because Rose was going to do it anyways, and/or to frame Arturo if she didn't know he had an alibi. I think any of these reasons, or a combination of these reasons, are enough to make it possible, and while Ace could've overheard, it's definitely less easy for him.

NOT BELIEVING AREI: Both Arei and Charles have, in this trial, been shown to question whether or not Eden believed Arei wanted to be Eden's friend. If Eden simply did, this plot point goes nowhere.

A GOOD PERSON: Eden has been called a good person, but other than that freaky CG, nothing has really come of it. Is the plot relevance of Eden being a good person really going to resolve by saying "Eden is a good person, she'd never kill her friend!"? If a good person isn't gold, Eden still feels like a missing piece of that puzzle.

INCENTIVE TO FRAME NICO: This one's a bit more of a reach, but I don't really understand the point of framing Nico if you're Ace. Of course Ace is going to insist Nico is the murderer no matter what. If you're Eden, you have a direct audience to setting it up similarly: Ace. If you can get Ace to go all in on Nico, that's one less person who was in the Gym who suspects you. Eden and Teruko feel less likely to say "oh well it looks like Nico's murder so it MUST be Nico."

HEAVY FOCUS IN CH 2: DRDTdev seems to give the chapter death's important content shortly before their deaths. Eden has been one of the most prominent characters this chapter, which could be a bad sign.

Reasons Eden Wouldn't Be the Blackened

HER EMOTIONAL REACTIONS: I think I stand with everyone else when I say that the thing giving me pause with Eden!Culprit is how devastated she truly seems to be. I do still think it could be a combo of guilt and panic over the prospect of dying, but it's hard to justify everything.

HER FRIENDSHIP WITH AREI: Sort of a spinoff of the last one, but Arei was at least offering to Eden to be friends and to protect her. If Eden did believe that, to any extent at all, it's hard to imagine her killing Arei in cold blood.

THE FISH: The biggest question when it comes to evidence as to how Eden could be the killer. If Nico fed the fish and they were all still there last night, and Eden had an alibi until after the Relax Room closed, how would she have gotten the fish to add to the crime scene?

THE BDA: Easy to ignore imo considering we've already called it into question within the series proper, but still worth talking about. For Eden to be the culprit, either someone else saw the body first and isn't claiming to have (or it's David), or we're burning the "Eden didn't witness the crime and thus could still trigger the BDA" card here.

GENDER BALANCE: Possibly an irrelevant point, but it is true that we've had 2 women and 1 man die so far. If a man was the killer, it'd keep it even. Unlikely to be relevant as any disparity could be easily balanced out in Chapter 3 with (presumably) 3 death slots.

Points About Eden That Could Go Either Way

THE FORK CG: I firmly believe that this could be setting up for Eden being a more important character throughout the series or to die after a moment of intrigue, possibly letting us explore/imply more in her post-death bonus episode.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HU: Hu has lost David as a sane ally. Nico is telling her that they don't want her speaking for them and that they don't trust her. Would DRDTdev prefer to fully isolate Hu moving into Chapter 3 by getting rid of Eden, or to leave Hu with one friend who still believes in her.

CHARLES HAVING EDEN'S SECRET: By telling us Eden's secret ahead of time by Charles revealing it to Teruko, extra focus was given to Eden's secret. Was this just the easiest way to get everyone's secrets revealed based on character dynamics, or was it meant to imply that Eden's secret is extra important? Is that because she's the killer? Is it a #ArEden sweep???

ACE

(why are they both orange)

Reasons Ace Would Be The Blackened:

NO EVIDENCE-BASED ISSUES: This is the biggest and strongest point across the whole board imo. There is no tangible, evidence-based reason why Ace COULDN'T have done the crime. Out of all 13 currently surviving students, he's the only one who that's true for. That obviously makes him a viable suspect.

WOULD ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DO IT: Ace has been Freaking The Fuck Out this chapter. I could VERY easily see him deciding to kill here. I don't think anyone is trying to argue that Ace is too emotionally attached to the cast to try to kill all of them, because he clearly isn't.

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?: I'm not really sure where Ace's character is going to go from here. I'd be interested in seeing more from him, but, like, where is his character arching to if not a killer? Ace is so disliked and intense that it's hard to imagine him really, fully pivoting and caring about others, but if he can't do that, is he destined to be a killer eventually?

HEAVY FOCUS IN CH 2: DRDTdev seems to give the chapter's death important content shortly before their deaths. Ace has been one of the most prominent characters this chapter, which could be a bad sign.

Reasons Ace Wouldn't Be the Blackened

OBVIOUSNESS & POINT OF CHARACTER: Of course Ace would be willing to kill Arei or whoever and the rest of the students. This is kind of the inverse of my "would absolutely fucking do it" point-- I don't know exactly how much surprise it would carry if Ace were to be the culprit. And, more than that, I feel like the point of Ace is that he is a victim here, but he's so unlikable that no one wants to acknowledge that or believe in him. I think it'd be an interesting comparison, if everyone really wants Ace to be the killer, but he just isn't. To everyone's dismay, Ace is still here. Now what?

SECRET LARGELY UNRESOLVED: Ace's secret hasn't really had any plot relevance yet. It seems like most people's do. I'm like lowkey expecting them to bring back the starvation motive from SDR2 in Chapter 4 and have SOMETHING happen with Ace there. Either way, while it could be reserved for his bonus episode (a la Min and Xander), I'd expect that his secret would have more main-story impact before he dies.

EXISTENCE OF SCRUM DEBATE: We're suspecting Ace first, but we still haven't done the scrum debate for this trial. Unless the scrum debate is "do we just vote for Ace without ever really pursuing Eden" and the answer is "yes," I don't see how we get out of this suspecting Ace period with a scrum debate without at least entertaining the idea of Ace's innocence.

STRONG CONNECTIONS TO OTHER CAST MEMBERS: Ace is very relevant to the Levi, Nico and Hu plotlines right now. Are they really going to just... get rid of him, when that's what both Nico and Hu would want?

ABILITY TO FIGURE OUT THE CONTRAPTION: Ace would not only have to recognize the way in which Nico was trying to kill him (which, to be fair is easier if he did wake up partway through), he would also have to conceptualize and figure out how to make the playground contraption successfully. I think Eden's clockmaking skills and... generally higher intelligence imo would be better suited to that.

COWARDICE: Ace is so fucking scared of everything. Would he want to put himself into harm's way by becoming the killer and having a do or die moment in the Trial? But, is he more scared of dying as a victim in the killing game, after seeing how close Nico came to killing him?

Points About Ace That Could Go Either Way

TAYLOR LORE DROP: Ace's friend, named Taylor per a Q&A with the dev, got vagued about in this Trial. Is that something to be pursued in a later Ace free time (following the one with Levi), or is that something that's going to be explained further in Ace's bonus episode (which could VERY easily be about friendship, considering it's Mai fucking Akasaki as the other person in the convo).

ACE'S BREAKDOWN @ LEVI: When Ace said he didn't fall for Levi caring about him at all, was that him affirming himself that it was the correct decision to try to kill, even if it'd put Levi's life at stake, who he previously kinda liked? Or was he lying to himself, and, at least previously, he wouldn't have wanted to kill Levi, no matter how harsh he seemed on the surface?

Well, that's all I got! Please let me know if you can come up with any more points for any of the 6 categories, because I'm very very curious to hear them! I'm thinking I might try to do an expansion on this in a separate post before next episode if I have time, exploring the ins and outs of each point with more textual evidence to back it up. I'd love to discuss any reader-suggested points too, if y'all have some in mind!

For now, I'm still personally leaning towards Eden as the culprit over Ace, but I wouldn't be surprised to see it be either of them. Well, other than the fact that my reaction to the killer being revealed is going to be :O no matter what.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down.

parts: previously / next plot: and they were rooommates. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mentions of blood and stitches and drugs and alcohol, this chapter is fluffier because reader deserves a break, reader and bruce discussing their one-night stands, bruce thinks he's funny but he just can't hide how much he likes you okay, jealousy thy name is "disturbed". words: 6.9k. a/n: shoutout to allnurses.com contributing to at least 8 hours of research on how medications are stored in hospitals for one scene. any nurses in chat please do not stone me, I took creative liberties. also, in case there is any confusion, this chapter and the vignette take place all in (mostly) the same day.

The car gets about halfway down the street before Bruce observes out loud, "Something's bothering you."

You're clean and changed, but your hands are shoved between your thighs as you try to control their shake. Knowing what you know now, you have no reason to keep this from him. He is, by all means, the one person you should tell.

But you struggle to work up the courage without a mask looking back at you. The character of Batman you'd created in your head clashes violently with the character of Bruce. You'd written your own Jekyll and Hyde and tripped yourself up in the final act when it turned out they were one and the same, "You have a lot on your plate right now."

"So do you."

You resist the urge to grit your teeth, "It's about Judith."

Bruce thinks for a moment, "The old lady who doesn't like me."

"The very same. I... wasn't there for her last night, when I should have been. She was mugged on her way home."

Bruce doesn't make a big show of a reaction, though you notice he sits straighter, taking a break from gazing out of the window to glance at you every once in a while, "Is she badly hurt?"

"It could've been worse but... she's more shaken up than she wants me to believe."

"And her family?"

"Murdered." Bruce's car rolls by a street corner where a young mother wrangles her child back from the crosswalk, "I tried to convince her to have one of the deacons from church ride home with her from now on but she wouldn't listen. She doesn't want to be babied." Her stubbornness isn't at all unfamiliar.

"Did she see who did it?"

"She said some guys at the liquor store down the way. They hang out there every night," your eyes trail from the window down to the floor before finding Bruce's face. His profile is sharp and clean, the dark neck of his sweater stops just before the hair at his nape begins to cluster. Your eyes follow the bridge of his nose and it mirrors Batman's profile, a mix of pointed and blunt edges, "There's a... an heirloom in her purse. A lighter. She keeps it with her all the time. Her husband had it on him when he... well, he had an awful habit. She'd really like it back."

Bruce turns his head to you and you steel yourself. In the bright early morning, he is annoyingly resplendent. In the unfair way that all pretty people tended to be. It feels wrong to be asking him this. This is a stranger. You're begging for help from a stranger. You force down the sickness rising in your belly, "Please, will you-"

"I'll take care of it." He answers and it is final. He seemed to have made up his mind before you'd even asked.

The resolve in him is enough to slow your shake to nothing. There's a part of you that still doesn't quite believe what you'd seen last night, and so the certainty of Judith's well-being does not deluge you. It trickles down, dripping over your eyelashes, sprinkling off your fingertips.

You let yourself get caught up in his eyes the way you used to. You let the familiarity of them ground you and, though not with a sweeping acceptance, sigh in relief.

It's a small win in the grand scheme of steaming hot bullshit going on in your life.

You’ve taken things from General for Bruce’s sake before. Bandages and needles and disinfectants. This, however… this was a schedule II drug that could land you in prison if you got caught with it. And you were going to walk out of here with it like you were none the wiser.

A hand on your elbow forces you to slow down, drawing you back to your companion’s side. You don’t need to hear it so he doesn’t say it, but you’re embarrassed anyway. How Bruce maintains himself is enviable. “You’re a good actor.” Bruce peeks at you as you guide him through the first floor, “The thing with Gordon. You took it on the chin like a champ. You turned into a whole new person.”

“I avoid implicating myself when I can.”

“The party too. You diffused the tension, like, perfectly.”

Bruce hovers beside you as you call the elevator, a few patients and nurses lingering further behind. You can feel him probing your words for your natural line of thinking, “Couldn’t pull one over on you, though.”

No, you think, you just creeped me out while every bat-shaped clue flew right under my nose.

The elevator door slides open and the two of you squeeze into the back as the rest file in. You find yourself in a corner, braced against Bruce’s side as his hand reaches around your back to hold the railing. One of the nurses catches sight of him and swoons, the other trying (and failing) to look uninterested.

“Coming to see the new wing?” The swooning nurse asks, turning around to grin at Bruce. “Sounds like it’s coming along great. They make lots of helpful noise all day long.”

Bruce laughs good-naturedly, “Hopefully it’ll make up for all the trouble once it’s finished.”

The “uninterested” nurse nods, eyes frantically flashing from Bruce’s eyes to the floor and back over and over, “For sure! It’s really great you give back to General like this. Your dad would be proud.”

His face has no distinct reaction to it, nothing immediately telling that that comment hit too close to home. He smiles as he always does and thanks them as he always should do, and as they get off on the second floor, it’s just you two and an old man waiting for the next stop.

Bruce, to you, had long lived in his father’s shadow. The great Thomas Wayne who, despite his briefly smeared reputation, had been the face of the Wayne family for you. Even the some-twenty years after his passing had yet to shake that image from your brain.

It was his father’s legacy he was tending to here. All of the good and ugly that came with it. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’d heard his father would be proud. Did it comfort him? Frustrate him? Did he do this to make his father proud, or because it was expected of him?

Before the flood, you’d heard gossip about Wayne Enterprises going under, the reclusive in the tower giving no sign if he was alive or dead. Knowing what you know now, you wonder how much he truly wants to be a Wayne… with all the baggage that comes with it.

He’s wound tight. You can feel him against you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you find his hand on the railing beside you and cover It with your own. He’s shocked, judging by the way he jolts under your touch for a second. You think you’ve overstepped but when you go to apologize, he is already staring wide-eyed at you. Like when you’d caught him on the stairs.

The tension is still there, and his face has fallen in its warmth and friendliness. His hand had only partially slipped out from underneath yours, but as the seconds pass you feel it rest once more, not bothering to shake you away any further.

You both force yourselves to stare ahead until the elevator dings to let you out, but through the reflection on the door, Bruce is still looking at you.

You break first, distracting you both this time as you walk out, “You kept hitting me with your knee.”

Bruce, in a daze, asks, “What?”

“At the party. While me and Roberts were arguing, you’d nudge me with your knee like it was an accident.”

Bruce seems to remember who he is and where you are, because he quickly gets back to himself, “Guess I’m not that good of an actor.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I knew where the conversation was going. I could feel you thinking.”

You remembered holding your breath as the mayor prepared herself for confrontation back then, “And the second time?”

“I was trying not to laugh.”

You flush. You’d been so impassioned that night, defending your hero who, unbeknownst to you at the time, was hiding a snicker behind his glass. You feared you’d be remembering a lot of moments like that over the next few days.

As soon as you both get into your office, you shut the door behind you, “I need you to wait here for me.” Bruce’s face tightens, “Don’t… argue. They keep extra vials of the antivenom down in the ER. I can grab one from the med room, but I can’t have you following me down there. It’s off limits for anyone without ID, let alone a patient and a donor.”

Bruce doesn’t look comfortable. Since last night, you hadn’t been anywhere Bruce or your police detail couldn’t follow. You hadn’t even been allowed to enter your apartment until the latter had deemed the place safe. A med room not much bigger than your office—locked behind an ID scanner—posed less of a threat than your two-bedroom ten minutes away.

But it was two stories down, and anything could happen in the time you were away from Bruce.

You can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to think up some plan that allowed him to remain by your side. You have to restrain yourself from feeling… flattered.

Flattery turns to bewilderment as Bruce reaches into his pocket and drops something into your hand. It’s a gadget the size of an AirPods case, shining in the light of the fluorescents. It looked perfectly unassuming and hid—lightweight as it was—a marvel of expensive technology. You could tell just by looking at it. “The hell is this?”

“It’s an EMP generator. Put it in your pocket and I can disable any communications within your vicinity, including cameras.”

“Okay, no. This is a hospital, and I’d be going into the ER with this thing. That’s too dangerous.”

Bruce looks offended. You can practically hear him say “You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” with his eyes. He silently holds his phone up to your face and you shouldn’t be as shocked as you are that it’s got live camera feed of the entire hospital. “I can control the radius. You said you trust me. So trust me.”

You swallow back your retort. You did say you were going to trust him on this. Whether or not it would be your doom had yet to be seen. You nod once, dropping the device in your pocket. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”

Bruce’s lips purse together. He still doesn’t look settled with letting you go alone, but he has very little room to argue, “Ten minutes.”

You don’t waste time. You skip the elevator for the emergency stairwell, taking two steps at a time until you’re back on the first floor and walking to the ER. The med room at the very end of the hall would—if you were lucky—be as empty as the waiting room. All you needed to do was get in, grab what you needed and very quickly get the hell out of there. Without raising suspicion. You can feel the phantom pull of Bruce’s hand on your arm, begging you to slow down before you draw unwanted attention.

You round the corner to the med room, scan your ID, and head in.

The two nurses waiting inside greet you, analyzing you curiously, “Hey doc, need something?”

Words rattle in your brain like a d20 on a deception roll. You pray for something good, “I just wanted to grab some meds for my patient.”

One nurse sits at a computer, head titled in confusion, “Did you put in a prescription? You could’ve sent a nurse to grab it for you.”

Your eye catches the camera on the ceiling, its dark glass glinting at you, mocking you. A scrying glass recording your every move. And Bruce on the other side of it, hopefully buying you an alibi. “It’s a… special case. My patient needs it soon, so I thought I’d speed up the process and grab it myself.” You force a lightness into your tone, trying your best to appear apologetic and not at all suspicious.

The nurse hums. Then, she jabs the pen she’d holding over her shoulder, “Cart’s over there. Help yourself.”

You maneuver through the shelves separating either half of the room, keeping your head straight and eyes from wandering.

Your biggest hurdle was at the back of the room.

It’s a clunky cabinet on wheels with a monitor on top and an ID scanner on the side. In one of its many drawers, your golden ticket awaited, but these things kept logs of who checked out what, and if someone were to go through them later and find out you’d stolen a highly addictive drug without prescription…

You swallow. The generator in your pocket suddenly hangs heavy against your thigh. You glance at your phone for the time and note that four minutes have passed. You need to move quickly.

You approach the cart, fingers twitching at your sides, and right as you step up to the monitor, it flickers and goes dark. You give the power button a push for good measure but nothing happens.

Well, not nothing. You hear the cart drawers all click at once, like they’d unlocked by themselves. Tentatively, you try the top drawer and it slides out without issue. Glancing behind you, you check to make sure no nurses have wandered over, but you are the only one on this side of the room.

Your fingers drift down to the right drawer next and that one slips open too—by the grace of some god—and there you see it. It has an alien glow to it, a more subdued blue to its adversary’s green. The top of the tray holding the vials pops open with just as much ease as the drawer, allowing you to sneak one into your pocket. You shut the drawers, slowly backing away from the cart, but the monitor does not turn back on.

“What? This thing too?” You’re startled when the nurse from before suddenly jogs up from behind you, grumbling under her breath as she smacks the monitor.

You rush to cover, “It just went kaput on me.”

“Yeah, so did mine.” She maneuvers around the shelves and back to her desk where you see the other nurse at the desk scratching his head. Their monitor is glitching, having some gory digital stroke, “Here. You can sign out what you take for now and I’ll bother IT about this.”

You write down “Ibuprofen” and your name next to it, “Never seen that happen before.”

“Yeah. Thing froze up on me a minute ago. Guessing around the same time this thing died on you.”

Your stomach is still nervously fluttering, but you do feel a little smug. “Weird.” You hand her back the clipboard and go to grab a bottle out of a different drawer. “Good luck.”

You try not to sprint past the nurses as they fuss with the computer. You’re out and back upstairs before your ten minutes are up.

Bruce is sat leisurely on your couch, no doubt watching you scurry into the office on his phone. He looks from the pill bottle in your hand and back to you.

You toss the bottle into his lap, plopping down on the couch beside him. He frowns at the label. “For you,” you poke his injured leg and his eyes follow your every movement, “you’re favoring the other leg today.”

He can’t bring himself to deny that, even if the look he gives you from beneath his eyelashes says otherwise. You flash the antivenom at him as a peace offering. “How’d I look?”

His gaze flutters slowly from the vial to you before he shows you his phone. The screen is a recording of the medication room. It shows you greeting the nurses, walking up to the med cart, and then… nothing. Black screen for forty-five seconds. When it flickers back on, you're signing the clipboard and walking away. Your body sags into the couch with relief.

“You did good.” Bruce praises you.

“I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest.”

“There are worse places to do it.” You look at him and he’s smiling just a little. You’re aware, though, that he’s aware of the toll this has taken on you. He takes the vial out of your hands and puts it in his own pocket, holding his hand out to you. “We should get going.”

Bruce follows dutifully behind you as you lead him back down to the first floor. You feel much better than when you'd arrived, but your heart stutters each time a security guard passes you by. Years ago, stealing and getting away with it was second nature to you. You were also arrogant back then, uncaring of what happened to you. How quickly the tides had changed.

You feel Bruce nudge you with his arm. He isn't looking at you, but you know what he's trying to tell you: you've got a few more hallways to turn down before the exit. You just have to-

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, nerves electrified, only to find Em running to catch up with you, "What are you doing back at work already? Is your arm okay?"

The adrenaline rush had done wonders for your pain tolerance. You didn't even think about it until she brought it up, "I'm fine, it's fine. It's-" You go to rush out some sort of explanation but at that moment, Bruce turns around.

You can see the moment of impact across Em's face as soon as she realizes who you're with, her back straightening and hand pressing down flyaways. In an instant, she has forgotten all about you. For better or for worse. She rubs her palm on her leg before holding it out to shake his hand, "Mr. Wayne! Hi! I'm surprised to see you here." Her eyes are twinkling, "Everything alright?"

"Just some leg pain, nothing painkiller can't fix." He flashes the pill bottle for good measure. You're honestly impressed he admitted to being in pain at all, "It's good to see you again, Dr. Madison."

Em's face droops into a frown, "Well, you look fantastic, but you've got a mirror," she pats your arm, "and I'm sure you're being well taken care of."

"Only by the best."

You smile (borderline pleadingly), preparing to dismiss yourselves while you still have your wits about you, but then Em asks Bruce a question and, to your surprise, Bruce is happy to entertain her.

It strikes you that you had landed in your situation with no prior interest in who Bruce was, and it shows in how you barely keep up with the topic of conversation.

It's like watching a tennis match between the two. The topic in Em's court, then Bruce's, then Em's, back and forth without issue. No awkward pauses or uncomfortable looks. She recalls details about him out of thin air, your knowledge in comparison merely fringes of what Em knew.

The longer it goes on, the more it weighs on you that aside from the strange man who'd circled around you like a frightened kitten, you really didn't know anything about Bruce.

You knew Batman. You felt you knew him. Even when his identity was still a secret, you had felt comfortable with him. Vulnerable, even. He'd let you touch him in your home, fixing him up and helping you with this mess and... outside of that, what did you really know?

You feel an odd twist in your chest.

Em's voice floats back in, disrupting your retrospection, "I've always wanted to go to Italy. You must get so sick of these places after having been so many times."

"They still have their magic," Bruce grins, "but I don't like being far from home."

"Really? You could go anywhere in the world and you'd still miss Gotham?" Em's tone is teasing, but curious. Something flickers in her eyes as if she'd just remembered something.

Bruce takes in the hallway, chest swelling with pride, "Lots of things to miss about it."

"Name one."

Bruce's eyes cut to the side as he thinks, "The noise."

"You can get noise anywhere. LA, Chicago-"

"It's special here."

"No, try again."

His smile turns sheepish, "The rain."

"Now you're lying. Come on, pretty boy. I know you've got something. Penthouse, nightlife- heck, I'd even understand the freaks and clowns giving everyone PTSD."

Bruce exhales, purses his lips. His eyes flit around the white walls, "Okay. I'd miss you."

What the hell?

You straighten up. The absurdity (blatant sweet-talk) of the line shouldn't work—seriously, it wouldn't work on you—but Em goes pink in the cheeks. A strand of dark hair falls from her bun and frames her smile just so, "Well," she snorts, "aren't you just a flirt?"

To your utter dismay, they are both eating this up. "You light up the room, Dr. Madison. Your patients are very lucky."

"My patients are usually seven and way more interested in the candy I bring them."

"Candy?" Bruce finally looks at you, all humor and charm, "I never get candy. I just get yelled at."

Something in you is disturbed when Em grabs onto Bruce's arm, hanging off him as she pouts at you, "Oh! You're heartless!"

"Very much so." Bruce is somber.

"I don't-" Your voice comes out strained, a little too defensive right off the bat, "I don't yell." But you'd gotten close, and you got closer everyday, "But if I did, you'd deserve it."

Bruce is amused. You watch as he pretends to cower into Em, even as he dwarfs her in size. They start joking back and forth, more teases at your expense, and you notice that the persona he puts on around others is practically nonexistent here. You'd watched it dissolve within minutes. It's refreshing, you realize, that he seems to really be enjoying himself right now.

You catch Bruce insisting that he ought to get going, sharing pleasantries and desires to visit once more. Em looks genuinely saddened to let him go. The second Bruce's back turns, Em reaches out and squeezes your hand, whispering, "Please tell me he's single."

You fluster. You imagine yourself in the car ride back to the tower asking Bruce what he thinks about Em, offering to exchange numbers between them, and you're disturbed again.

Twenty-four hours ago, you would've been warning her to run for the hills. Twenty-four hours ago, he was only Bruce Wayne. Now he was Batman and all that came with it and, well... once upon a time, you would've wanted nothing more than for Bruce Wayne to sweep Em off her feet. Batman had always been more your style.

Then, you realize, you don't actually know the answer to her question.

Em looks expectant. You shrug. She exaggerates her disappointment but releases you all the same, "Keep me posted."

"I'm comparing the samples from the crime scene to the antivenom. I should have something in a few hours." Bruce taps the antivenom vial, watching the remaining blue liquid slosh against the glass, before handing it off to Alfred.

You're mesmerized by this backyard (or, more aptly put, garage) chemistry lab. Beakers and flasks spread out on the long table as you watch from a stool a few feet away, "How'd you get so good at this?"

"College," after a few seconds of silence from you, he adds on begrudgingly, "I started messing around with stuff down here when I was 13."

"You had all this when you were 13?"

"Some of it, whatever I could get my hands on. I liked to see how things worked."

You have a unique opportunity to learn about Bruce here, so you take it with both hands, "You majored in chem, then."

"And biology, and physics."

Your eyes blow wide. "You had three majors?"

"I bounced from one to another, sometimes double majored if I liked the professors. I followed my interests and they took me everywhere," Bruce picks up the venom test tube, little drops of green pooling at the bottom of the glass, "I've enrolled in more universities than I have degrees."

Your eye twitches, just a little annoyed, "Must've been nice going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted."

Bruce senses your tone of voice. He peers at you from the side, elbows resting on the table, "I spent a lot of time away from home. It must've been enough because I don't miss it."

"You said the same thing to Em earlier." You recall.

"I didn't think about it as much while I was gone, but when I came home for good... I just couldn't imagine myself leaving like that again."

"He barely liked boarding school," Alfred chimes in from the other side of the room, lazily reading a book at Bruce's desk. Boarding school was posh. You imagined little Bruce in a school uniform like the British boys in movies, "I should bring out the scrapbooks once we have a moment."

Bruce sets the test tube back on its rack with a bit of aggression, "Thank you, Alfred. You can go now."

Alfred chortles. He skims one more page of his book and then shoves it under his arm on the way back up. The elevator clinks and rattles up the tower until it stops some sixty stories up.

It's quiet now. You sort of appreciate the silence- the relative silence. There is the steady drip, drip, drip coming from here and there in the cave. The whirring of the machines, the humming of the lights, the very faint sound of a news anchor forecasting snowy skies this weekend. Bruce's breathing.

It's harder to hear unless you focus on it. His mountainous build hunched over the table—staring into the venom as it stares back—rises and falls in slow rhythm. You watch him being and it captivates you. For the umpteenth time since last night, you are struck with the reminder that this was Batman. In all his broody glory, an arm's length away from you, about a hundred feet under the city.

It's funny; you paid so little attention to the man before, and now you wanted to take him apart and examine his terrible insides. You have accidentally become obsessed with the man.

"I want to take you to Blackgate."

"Sorry?"

"Lucien is there," the name makes your blood run cold, "he was with the Vipers the longest. He could answer a few things for us."

You do your best not to immediately say no. Not because you think he'll force you, but because you know—somehow—that he won't, "What about Detective Gordon? Shouldn't that be his job?"

"I think he'll talk to you." Bruce turns slowly until his back is pressed against the desk, arms crossed over his chest and pulling his shirt completely taut. "He knows you."

You hadn't seen Lucien since the night Alex died. For once, you're kind of grateful Bruce can read you. He turns fully toward you, "I can go alone."

"You just said you think he'll talk to me."

"I can make him talk." His head droops a little to meet your eyes, expression impossibly understanding. You have no doubt he can. Your throat feels like it's on the verge of closing up. Somehow, sending Bruce alone to handle him felt worse.

"But you think I can..." You have to pause to force in a breath, feeling yourself go lightheaded, "You think I can get more out of him." Bruce doesn't respond to that. He's still watching you like you might start stress-sobbing. "Okay."

"You sure?"

"Mm."

Bruce calls your name. You'd been tracing the lines of his arms with your eyes to distract yourself, not processing how much closer he'd gotten until you feel his breath against your eyelashes.

His arms are uncrossed now, one hand pressing into the table beside you, the other hovering by his hip. His fingers twitch. Does he want to touch you? You were about to go three for three with the crying in his arms thing.

You force yourself off the stool and the speed at which you stand gives Bruce very little time to react. Your chest bumps against him, but you're already slipping behind him, "Lemme see your stitches," you rasp, hand ghosting over his shoulder, "need to... redress them, probably."

Bruce tries looking over his shoulder at you but you hide behind him and after a moment, he relents. His shoulders drop in defeat. You watch him drag your stool into the light and sit.

The dismal mood did you a favor. He looked like he'd be submissive today.

You're halfway through clearing away his dried blood when you ask, "Are you single?"

Bruce's shoulder jolts just the tiniest bit, almost driving your finger into the stitch. "What?"

"Em asked," you quickly explain, "and I realized I didn't know."

You don't know exactly what he's thinking, but his answer is as straightforward as you could hope for, "Yes."

"Oh."

"You sound surprised."

"I mean... I sort of assumed..." What did you assume, exactly? You couldn't see him with a long term partner, definitely not like this, but the idea that there wasn't anybody didn't sit right with you, "no flings? Situationships, even?"

"Why? Is Dr. Madison interested?"

Your jaw clenches. You force the muscles in your face to relax, "I just don't want any secret lovers of yours adding me to their shitlist if I go through with your plan. I can't stress how little I want to fake-fight over you right now."

Bruce huffs. You finish cleaning around his wound when he pipes up again, "I had something... someone. It didn't last."

"Oh. Are you... tender about it?"

"Not anymore. I don't have time for that kind of thing anyway."

He says it like it doesn't bother him, but in the way someone might brush off a scrape on the knee or a paper cut. Like it stung, but you had to be a big boy about it. The pain would go away eventually.

You press new gauze over the stitches, taping it down as gently as you could, "I assumed someone like you would have a whole lot of someones, a revolving door even," your eyes flit over his other bruises and healed cuts, "I never made time for relationships either. I was kind of just going through the motions."

"No one interested you?" Bruce rolls his shoulders once you peel away from him. He doesn't look at you when he asks that.

"Just... childish crushes here and there. Sometimes I'd let someone take me home..." Your voice catches in your throat for a moment. You recall a stamped down memory, one of you standing blindfolded in your apartment imagining the Batman with his mouth on your throat. That wasn't very long ago. Your breath shudders as you fit Bruce into the memory instead. You don't... know how to feel about it.

"Never back to yours? And here I thought Judith was just hard on me." You belatedly register Bruce standing, rolling his shirt up his arms before pulling the neck over his hair. His question hangs lightheartedly.

Your shoulders sag, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you I was paranoid about letting one-night stands into my home."

"Why? 'Cause you let me in?"

The back of your neck grows hot. "What about you? You ever bring yours back to the cave?"

After he's done tucking his shirt into his pants, Bruce shakes his head at you, "No. Just you."

That was the second time he'd said that to you. You were starting to feel special.

You step out of the shower and you think, almost as soon as your foot touches heated floors, that you really despise Bruce Wayne.

The towels are warm too, waiting for you as you preen yourself in the mirror, a clean you staring back. You kept your toiletries bag on the bathroom counter, afraid to unpack anything as you rustled around for deodorant. It was massive and quiet. The water pressure alone had you swearing at the marble lining of the shower.

Bruce eventually lured you downstairs with the promise of making dinner. Alfred was skeptical, but had backed off and allowed Bruce full range of the kitchen, still possessed by his book next to the fire.

He'd asked you what you had the stomach for. Eventually he was copying something out of a celebrity recipe book with you beside him.

You argued that he hadn't really made you dinner given that you had helped him do half of everything, but it was his ingredients and it was his kitchen and the food tasted good so you didn't argue long.

After Alfred offered his stamp of approval, he'd retired for the night and left you and Bruce in the kitchen to clean up. Bruce had left the pots and pans to you when you proved too nervous to handle the porcelain, "Alfred won't kill you if it breaks."

"Alfred would kill me for less, I think."

Bruce gives a short laugh, drying off the last pot. He's pouring you a glass of the wine you'd opened last night when you slide his little gadget across the counter, "I forgot to give that back to you." You swirl your glass, admiring the color as Bruce packs away the leftovers. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Em earlier."

"I was. Your friend is funny."

"I... also noticed something you said. When she asked you what you would miss about Gotham, you mentioned the noise and the rain. Would you really miss all that?"

Bruce glances at you, popping a top onto a glass bowl, "Of course. It's part of what makes the city."

Your eyes narrow, searching for the lie, but there isn't one. He's being sincere. "Is that why you became Batman? Because you love this city that much?"

You can feel the mood getting doused with ice water. It forces you upright in your chair, makes your hand clench around the stem of your glass. Anyone with eyes could tell you'd just touched a nerve.

But he answers you, intense as it comes out, "I hated it." The loathing is a mere shell of what it used to be, you can tell, "I hated what it took from me." His eyes cast down to the countertop. "At first, I was aimless. Everyone was worried about the future of the company but Alfred and I were just trying to make it through the day. Over the years, I boiled up with this... restlessness. I still didn’t know where I was going but I was full of something for once. I studied, I traveled, I learned from all manner of teacher. And when I came home, I was... determined."

His words sit heavily on you. You can see flecks of that restlessness in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hands as he rests them against the countertop. "Why a bat?" You whisper.

"They're what I feared the most."

Past tense. "Feared?"

"I got over it. I won't let them close enough to bite, but..." The humor in his voice breaks the intensity of his expression.

You mull that over, "You became what you feared to strike fear."

"Not anymore," his head shakes, "fear is a tool, but... there's enough fear in this city. I wasn't making a change, I was making it worse."

You remembered the first time you'd ever heard of the Batman. Back then, he was just "Vengeance". In the grand scheme of fucked up things this city had to offer, someone running around dressed as a bat didn't register as abnormal. Another Tuesday, maybe. You awaited what they'd say about his crimes: a mugger beaten and strung up on the street, a gang felled and dropped at the GCPD's door. You remembered something stirring in you when he put away the Joker.

"I remember when you became a hero. Like really, to everyone. When you took shape… they were flying in people. I was rushing in patients while you stood on top of the Garden and pulled people out of the flood. I hadn’t felt hope like that since… yeah."

Your admission moves something in Bruce. His eyes find yours, "I was just doing what you'd been doing for years."

"But I never left that hospital. You transcend boroughs, the gangs, everything. I used to think you couldn’t possibly be one guy. I still can’t believe it. How are you not dead on your feet by now?" Bruce smiles knowingly at you and you feel yourself flush, "Besides that. You’ve been doing this for longer than I've been around to patch you up."

"That would be Alfred."

"You should tell him, you know. That you appreciate him. I think he'd like to hear how much he means to you more often." Bruce's eyes soften. He doesn't debate you. "Anyway. How's that sedative going?"

"I'll take another look before I leave tonight."

Oh, yeah. This guy is Batman.

You don't know when next you'll get this chance, "Can I ask a favor? Can I... watch you put it on?" Bruce wobbles to the side, genuinely confused. "The suit?"

He examines you, mouth almost curling up into a shocked smile. He hadn't expected you to ask that, that's for sure. "All of it?"

You grip your glass so hard you think it might shatter, "No." And then, when he has the audacity to snicker, "Asshole."

He stays true to your request.

You watch with your back pressed up against the wall. His under suit hangs undone at his hips while he leans over his desk, digging his fingers into a can of black paint. He uses the reflection of his computer screen to smear it over his eyelids and under his eyelashes until the white skin beneath disappears.

Next is zipping up the under suit. You barely resist rushing over to hold his bandage steady as the suit catches on it, but he manages to get it up and over without pulling it off. Then come the plates of armor. Each piece clips into place, clinging to his waist and chest and arms. You've seen it up close enough times to know the quality of it, a wonder how he'd gotten his hands on that kind of stuff until now.

You don't ask him to, but when it's time to put his cowl on, he turns sideways so you can see.

His gloved hand combs through his hair, pushing back the longer strands so he could fit the cowl over it.

It's kind of embarrassing how it takes your breath away. Bruce had quite literally transformed before your eyes, and now there was no denying it.

Bruce stands still as your eyes bore into him.

After a few seconds of admiring every piece of the suit, your eyes flit up to his face. He's not looking at you, almost shy. Apart from Alfred and, perhaps, his someone, Bruce has probably never put on the suit in front of anyone else. Is it weird you missed seeing him shy? "It fits perfectly." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Of course it does. You know it's dumb to say. Bruce doesn't say that, though.

He waits a beat before turning away from you, his cape sending a breeze of cool air up against your legs. His car awaits on the train tracks, headlights beaming into the near endless darkness as he approaches and you follow.

The car thrums eagerly with life at the push of a button, sending vibrations through the ground, all the way up to the ceiling where you hear a sudden flurry of wings and chirping. Bowing your head close to Bruce, you watch about a hundred bats scurry about above you, disturbed by the sudden rumble of the engine. Bruce holds his cape over your shoulder, though none of the bats fly low enough to concern him. "They don't freak you out a little bit?"

"They haven't bothered me."

"Well, when you dress like them I guess they get confused."

"I'll be back before sunrise," Bruce promises, "and I'll look into Judith for you. Maybe you should... call first."

You're tickled by the discomfort he's so desperately trying to hide, "Scared of a little old lady?"

He pointedly ignores you. You step back as he throws open the door and settles into his car, but before he can pull off into the darkness, you shout his name to get his attention over the roaring engine, "Hey! Be safe."

Bruce looks at you and... you don't know what he's thinking, only that the muscles in his jaw relax a bit. Was he used to that? Did Alfred often stand on the cold, empty train tracks before every patrol and wish him luck on another night of beating criminals to a pulp? Was he used to the worrying? Annoyed by it, even?

He doesn't say anything. The car leaves in a spray of dust and you hide your face in your shirt to shield yourself from it. By the time the dust settles, you can only see two red lights blurring into the distance.

[indigos-stardust]

Violet and Blue Bruises: Catfight

part 1 / part 2/ part 3/ part 4

Expectation:

(used a base found online made by AlexBaxtheDarkness on DeviantArt)

Reality:

Click for higher quality^^ Reblogs appreciated <3

The Tea:

The second that the two made contact, any hope of a somewhat peaceful resolution was lost. Blue immediately tackled Vio.

It was no duel. There's only nasty scraps, pushing, hard hits, and a pathetic scramble for leverage over the other, each barely managing to shift the tides before the other makes another move.

The bruises blossom, painting their skin with every forceful hit against furniture, floor, and bone. Fingers dig into soft skin, deep and piercing. Not as piercing as their f*cking screeching though. Shadow's been a bit bored recently just, sitting there being a shadow, so this? This is glorious.

He isn't quite rooting for Blue even though he still sees Vio as the traitor he is (okay, he understands why Vio betrayed him but still!! it hurt a lot okay?!), but honestly? He was gonna reevaluate all his feelings, because this? This was beautiful.

Sure, the losers spent several minutes practically rolling around like pigs trying to get any easy marks they could, but the second Blue got the upper ground (literally, Blue took a lot better care of himself than Vio and his strength definitely showed it, with how he was able to pin Vio down despite Vio's erratic squirming and clawing) - Oh man, Vio seemed trapped. How nice.

Blah blah blah, " What pissed you?!" blah blah blah garbage from Vio about, "Just giving what's due you dull headed-" and more blah blah blah something about, "YOU"RE SUCH A GREEDY COWARD, you aren't and never were there when we needed you!"

Honestly, where was the real drama? No ironic wordplays?

Blue clearly wanted to get this situation under control. So, he decided to very calmly and reasonably inquire, "WHAT 'S YOUR DAMN PROBLEM YOU STUPID *SS PIECE OF NERD?"

Honestly, Shadow hadn't ever known Blue could be so eloquent! It would be upsetting though if the fight ended this early, so for the first time he offered a small prayer to Hylia. Perhaps she could influence and spur on her pathetic little light worlders to keep the scrap going? And oh did she answer his prayers-

Like poetry in motion, Vio practically pierced Blue's shoulder with a fierce and rapid bite. A perfect twist of the head, just the perfect amount of force- and at the most perfect spot to induce the most pain without any real injury! Shadow had taught him that... He remembered.

F*ck Blue, Vio might suck but this was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen!

Of course, now they were both standing again! And in a new bigger territory! THE LIVING ROOM!!! Shadow hadn't been this thrilled since he died!!

A whirling heavy book smashing against Vio's skull followed a war cry of, "MAYBE THIS"LL TEACH YOU A LESSON ON HOW TO NOT BE A TOTAL D*CK!??" Pure poetry, if Shadow had a mortal form, he'd be wiping tears! Though he doesn't know if it be from laughter or pure joy!

OOH PERFECT THEY SMASHED RED'S NEW MUG? Ohohoho more dangers on the battlefield~~~(not to mention it could spur on another fight for whose fault it was later! this was like what? Red's third "new favorite best mug!" because all his favorite mugs always break?)

Shadow was just enjoying the show, excited for the grand finale- Someone was going to throw a chair!! He had to see how this would end-

The front door slams open. Green busts in, eyes panicked, face flushed. Red anxiously trying to look inside behind the frozen Green.

They freeze.

Oh.

Oh no.

lmso I might make part 4 later today or tomorrow lol

[daenysx]

respectfully i need more dad!aemond, you write it so well and it just makes me so so happy 🫶🏻🥹

like i’m just imagining him with his babies as they grow older, like maybe something with them starting school and reader and aemond have to help them with projects etc ,,, just any domestic fluffy ideas you have 🤍

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3333 requests are open for dad!aemond

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader , tooth rotting fluff

"lyx, you're doing it wrong."

if there's one thing alyssa targaryen loves to do, it's being a big sister. she's doing a pretty good job on it, too, even when sometimes she's being a bit annoying to aelyx. she has the words of her mom and charms of her dad. an unbeatable duo.

"no." aelyx says. "i want that picture."

"okay, but you're spreading the glue wrong." alyssa says. "it's gonna stick to your fingers now."

the scene aemond witnesses when he comes into the room is exactly like this. his babies, trying to make a school project on their own, dealing with many papers and crayons and glue. alyssa seems like she's bored of it all but aelyx is patient. his tiny tongue sticking up to the corner of his mouth as he tries to press the picture on another paper.

"daddy!"

aemond smiles, leaving his jacket on the couch as he comes closer. "hi, little love." he hugs alyssa first. "hey, buddy." aelyx doesn't give him any attention other than a smile, boy has got things to do. "what's this?" aemond asks.

"it's for aelyx's class tomorrow." his girl explains. "we need to pick pictures and glue them here."

"like a collage?"

"what's a collage?"

turns out it's exactly like a collage. aemond looks at the pictures briefly before watching his son. his tiny hands try to spread the glue nicely.

"would you like some help?" aemond asks, gently. aelyx looks at his dad with big eyes. he looks like he wants to do it by himself but the glue is hard to deal with alone.

"can you just spread the glue?" alyssa asks with convincing smile that always works for her daddy. "we can do the rest."

"of course, baby." aemond rolls up his sleeves before reaching for aelyx's hand. "i'll just hold your hands, you're doing the rest. okay, buddy?"

aelyx nods, his silver curls shaking with the motion. aemond gently holds his son's tiny hands to lead him as he places the glue on the paper.

"are you almost done?" you ask them as you walk inside. you have a little kitchen towel to dry up your hands. "it's dinner time."

you're cheerful every time you see them do something together. watching aemond take care of kids is always a delight and you get to see him doing it a lot more lately, now that they go to school and come back with lots of fun projects to do.

aelyx looks at you as he sees you stand by the door, when aemond finishes with the glue he's quick to run to your arms. aemond sometimes complains he's such a mommy's boy, but he also knows alyssa is definitely enamored by him. it's the teasing part he loves the most, though.

"i'm taking my boy to kitchen, come meet us when you finish!" you say happily, kissing aelyx's chubby cheek.

"come here, baby." aemond extends a hand to alyssa. "let's pick up some pictures."

"that looks nice." she says, her small finger on paper. "and this one."

"i guess we're gonna be done after them, huh?"

"yes, daddy."

a few minutes are spent in silence as they both concentrate on their work. at the end, everything looks nice. alyssa has a satisfied smile on her lips.

"did we do good?" aemond asks, stealing a quick kiss from her cheek.

she nods, wrapping an arm around his neck. "thank you, daddy."

"you're welcome, little love." aemond gets a kiss on his cheek this time. "let's go have dinner."

[skilledmeowjesty]

Pairing: Rafayel x afab MC

Genre: smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2.6k

Tags: Dom!MC, Sub!Raf, Bottom!Raf, fingering, teasing, PEGGING

Content: Rafayel asks the MC to peg him with a strap he already owns

A/N: Shameless content of one of my biggest Kinks (pegging) featuring the Sub!iest man from L&DS (Rafayel) 🥰

I will be writing more pegging/sub content of these bachelors in the future (this is a threat)

‘come over when youre off work, i got something i wanna talk to you about’

‘its been over 10 min since your shift ended and youre not here yet 😒’

‘20 min now traffic cant be that baddd’

‘25 min and still no reply 🥺’

‘you cant even answer?? 💔’

‘are you ignoring me??? 😢’

‘Fine, ig ill just drown myself since you hate me sm 😭’

Rolling your eyes, you read over the text messages Rafayel had been spamming you with for the past half hour, unable to unlock your phone to reply to any during your meeting at work, leaving it to buzz every few seconds during the important debriefing at the Hunter's Association and earning a raised brown from your captain as you gave her an apologetic smile in response

‘I just got out of a meeting, I'll be there in 10’ you text back, knowing how dramatic Rafayel could get whenever he doesn't receive your constant attention

“Who you textinggggg?” Tara asks playfully as she peeks over your shoulder to see your screen, catching a quick look at the dozens of messages and emojis before you lock your phone and shove it back in your pocket, “is it your boyfriend?”

“I.. yeah” you answer with a slight blush, still getting used to the title, even though it has been well over a month since you and the Lemurian became official, “he wants me to swing by his place now that I'm off work”

“Is he the one that was blowing up your phone during the meeting? I thought Captain Jenna was gonna blow a gasket” Tara giggled

“He can get pretty impatient” you say in reply, swinging your leg over your motorcycle and readying to drive to Rafayel's loft to see what he wants, “so I better head out”

“Okay, have fun!” She waves with a suggestive wink, and with that, you drive off

_____

When you finally arrive to Rafayel's place, he doesn't greet you at the gate, so, you invite yourself in, having gotten his security code back when he first decided you were going to be his new bodyguard

Knowing the layout like the back of your hand, you easily find him in his bedroom, where the artist sits on his massive bed with his back turned to you, his arms crossed, and though you can't see his face, you just know his signature pout is on his lips

“So, you finally decide to show” he grumbles, and you can't help but roll your eyes again

“I told you, I was in a meeting” you sigh, stepping fully into the room, careful as you avoid stepping on any of the many loose half finished sketches scattered across the floor, pencils and other art supplies discarded this way and that, making moving as difficult as walking through a minefield

“You still should've at least replied”

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask, an attempt to change the subject before the artist spirals into more sulking

It seems to work, and he finally turns to face you, the colors in his surreal eyes swirling with emotions you find you can't exactly place

Excitement? Definitely, but, something more, vulnerability? Almost uncertainty, and you find yourself tilting your head as you wait for him to speak

“So,” he starts, before pausing, gnawing at his lower lip between his teeth, as if he's trying to find the words

“So..?” You reply, hoping to encourage him to continue, seeing how it seemed incredibly important with the amount of messages he has been spamming you with

“Well, you already know I'm Lemurian” he says, and you just nod with a quirked brow, not understanding where he was going with it

Another pause, a breath, “and since we're not human, we have a different…form.. in a few things..” he trails off again

“I know…?” again, you look at him with a baffled expression, still not following his train of thought

Rafayel stops again, and you fight the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake the words out of him, growing as impatient as he was with you when he was spamming your inbox, not used to the man so hesitate in speaking whatever thing came to mind the second he thought of it

Rather than continue speaking, he reaches into his nightstand’s drawer, rumbling through it, a soft blush touching his face

“Raf, whatever you want to say, can you please just get on with-” your words cut off when he pulls out a rather LARGE and inhuman shaped silicone phallic toy, a harness quickly followed

You blink, staring for a few seconds at it while his eyes stay glued to your face, to your reaction

“What is that?” you finally ask

“A strap” he starts, the blush on his cheeks flushing more, overtaking his face, his ears turning a deep red, “it's modeled after Lemurians”

You stare at him in shock for a few seconds, before turning your attention back to the toy, the length, the size, the way it was shaped, curved up, a knot like bulge near the base, the head wide and vaguely resembling the end of a squid head, the edges riddled with groves like a tentacle, the massive toy looking otherworldly and definitely not what you'd have expected

“This.. is how Lemurians’,” you gesture down to his crotch, “look in merform?” You finish in disbelief, finally stepping towards him

He holds the toy out for you, though his eyes suddenly dart off to the side, refusing to meet your gaze as you take it to study

The size was much larger than anything you expected, the girth making it impossible to wrap your fingers around, taking two hands to fully hold it steady, turning it to and from, you look at it from all angles, still unable to fully grasp what Rafayel had said, that this was what his own length looked like in his Lemurian form, not seeing how it was POSSIBLE for something so large of that shape to enter ANYONE, Lemurian or otherwise

He hasn't said a thing, quiet as you inspect the dildo, but his blush has now traveled down his neck, the exposed parts of his chest visible from his unbuttoned shirt turning the same deep crimson his cheeks and ears held, as he once again shifted his eyes to stare at you, gauging your reaction

“You.. want me to use this on you?” You ask when the implications of what a ‘strap’ were came to mind, looking over at the simple black harness he had set next to him on the bed

Rafayel eagerly nods, staring at you like a puppy begging for a treat, his brows furrowing as he waits for your reply

“Would this even fi-”

“It will” he cuts you off mid word, his tone completely sure, as if he has no doubt, as realization dawns on you exactly why he must be so confident

The corner of your lip quirks into a half smirk, mischievous as you set the toy down next to him, your hand instead reaching to grab his chin, tilting his head up as you lean down from your place standing over his sitting form, bringing your lips closer to his own, breathing your next words out, “well, since you asked”

You waste no time kissing him then, half registering the shocked delight in his gaze as your arms move to snake around his shoulders and lean down, toppling you both over onto his expensive sheets

His hands immediately grip your hips as you straddle him, your fingers moving to quickly unbutton his shirt, undoing each one in a heist before yanking his top open and off

Your lips leave his to kiss up and down his neck, peppering the skin with soft pecks and light bites alike, and he moans, arching his back to into your hands when your fingers run over his chest, gently pinching at his hardening nipples before adding a bit more force

He's already panting under you after such a short amount of time; his hips lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to grind into you, seeking friction, but lets out a whine when you put a stop to his rutting with a solid hand to hold him in place

“Hold still” you warn him, your hands shifting from how you held him to unbutton his pants, before yanking both them and his underwear down in one smooth motion, freeing his length that sprung out, the head smacking against his stomach and staining his skin with the precum already leaking out

You gather up a generous amount on the pads of your fingers, avoiding any real touch as you teasingly ignore his length to instead move past it, down, touching your slick digits against his entrance

He lets out a deep groan, and you feel it rumble from deep within his chest, his pale skin burning bright red, his hardened arousal twitching when you circle around, not putting any real pressure just yet

“Where's the lube?” you ask, purposefully pitching your voice into an innocent, if not slightly teasing tone, smirk on your lips as you look at him

He has thrown his head back, exposing his flushed neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, his answer coming out in a choked whimper

“N-Nightstand drawer” he stutters, and you feel yourself clenching subconsciously at how utterly wrecked he looks, even though you have barely started

You reach your free hand out, blinding searching the open drawer before your fingers find the shape of the bottle

You pull it out, shifting where you straddled him to instead once again stand over him in between his legs

You push both his legs up against his chest which he shifts to hold up from the back of his knees, exposing his already fluttering hole, the smirk growing at the sight of him putting himself on full display for your eager gaze to sweep over

He still stubbornly refuses to look your way, but, you don't mind, enjoying the way his entire body was flushed deep red from his blush, the slight tremble in his limbs as you popped the cap of the lube bottle open, coating the fingers of your dominant hand

“Tell me if it hurts” you say, before gently press your index finger against him, easily pushing in, feeling very little resistance, immediately able to add your middle finger

He moans as you cant your fingers, brushing them over what you could immediately tell was his prostate, before pulling back, not wanting to overwhelm him as you scissor your fingers slightly to help stretch and loosen him, knowing it was important considering the size of the strap he wanted to use. Soon, you find yourself able to add a third, your ring finger, introducing it with another slight brush over his sweet spot to distract any discomfort he may feel as you stretch him more and more

His moans grow louder when you quicken the pace of your hand, fingers moving in and out of his waiting heat, canting, prodding, every once in a while brushing over where you knew he wants you to before once again ignoring it, half to avoid overstimulation, half teasing, feeling your own arousal damping your underwear, the sight of him completely falling apart under you turning you on more than you thought possible

“You seem pretty experienced in this” you tease, your pinkie joining in on the assault, causing his already arched back to arch more, taunt like a bow and you see his hands holding his legs up for you turning almost white with how hard he held his own limbs

“D-Don’t say it like that” he huffs, but the sound dissolves into a groan when your fingers once again prode against his prostate, cutting off any more words from him intentionally

Once you feel the muscles of his entrance completely loosen under your attentive movements, you move your hand back, and he lets out a whiny protest

You step back, grabbing the harness to easily put it on, deciding not to undress at all, excitement flooding through your veins at the power dynamic of it all, him, flushed and begging and nude on his back with his knees pressed to his chest on full display, and you, standing over him, still completely clothed as you attach the monstrous dick to the harness

As you coat the toy with a generous amount of lube, you see Rafayel releases his hold on one of his legs, hand moving to grasp his neglected length, but you quickly smack his hand away before he makes contact as you step closer once more

“No” you tell him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as, FINALLY, he looks back at you, the surreal color of his eyes overtaken by his blown out pupils, his lips parted as he pants, his chest heaving with each breath, and you can see the desperation in his gaze as he whines, yet again

“Whyyyyy” he pouts, furrowing his brows, but you ignored him in favor of lining the slick strap up to his waiting heat

“I control your pleasure” you breathe, and you see his eyes widen for a split second before you move, with solid hands on his hips, you pull him down onto the toy, pushing in in one smooth motion

He lets out a loud moan, louder than any you have ever heard from him before, which you immediately silence by crashing your mouth to his, swallowing the sound as you start to thrust

His legs wrap around your waist, his hands grasping desperately at the bedsheets, fingernails clawing into the fabric, his back arching further as pressing his chest against your own and you can feel his heart hammering away so quickly, so strongly

You angle each thrust, hitting where you KNOW his prostate is, overwhelming him into a desperate mess under you as he pulls his face away from your lips, turning his head to the side, his cries echoing off the walls, his legs trembling around your waist; you see tears start gathering in the corners of his eyes

He screams your name, over and over, louder and louder to the point you wonder vaguely if anyone else can hear him, even in his home so isolated from everyone else, he was being so loud

One of your hands leaves his hip to cover his mouth, cupping over his lips in an attempt to silence him

“Quiet, my lil conch shell” you breathe teasingly, and his eyes snap open, wide, the nickname proving to be his undoing

Reaching his limit, you feel his hot release spill out in between you two, his cum coating over your shirt and burning into the fabric, soaking it

You give a few extra thrusts, working him through his orgasm until his moans turn into pained groans from the overstimulation on his poor prostate

You finally pull back and out of him, leaving him a panting mess on the bed, his chest still heaving, his hips and legs trembling, his eyes completely glazed over, and you find yourself smirking at how completely fucked out he looks, just because of you

_____

It wasn't until later, when you're having some drinks with Tara, that you realize something

As she jokingly shows you a site she found while browsing the Internet for some new adult toys to spice up her bedroom, you see the very strap Rafayel said was modeled after Lemurians listed under “Monster Dragon”

You can't help but smirk when you ask Tara to send you a screencap to forward to your Lemurian lover

[deadforprettyboys]

2nd time EVER writing something, wish me luck!

'I Bumped Into My Nemesis In A Hallway And All I Got Was An Australian Himbo Boyfriend' by Fall Out Boy - G.Waller x Reader

warnings: banter, arguing kinda, lil itty bitty bit of angst! kinda hints towards smut?? minors dni!!

(not proofread lmao)

Grayson walked down the halls of this week's Smackdown arena, championship belt on his shoulder, confidence (or arrogance) as prominent as ever. He had no plans for a match or even an appearance this evening, so he found himself aimlessly wandering the hallways, when all of a sudden he bumps into his so-called arch nemesis, because it wouldn't be a fanfiction if he just paced the arena for an hour.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N," Grayson sneers. "I should have figured you'd be in my way somehow. Do us both a favor and stay out of my path in the future, yeah?"

Y/N meets him with a "Love you too, Waller." before even a beat can pass. "Watch where you're going, dickhead. We both know this isn't my fault. How about instead you stay out of my way so that I don't have to kick your ass!" Y/N sneers right back at him. 

Grayson rolls his eyes, clearly unamused by Y/N's response. "Oh, please, spare me the empty threats. You're not gonna do anything, you know that. You're lucky I even acknowledge your presence."

"Oh please, as if I give half a damn whether you 'acknowledge' me or not. 'Oh, Grayson, you're so important, please pay attention to me, I'm begging you!' God, grow up, asshat." Y/N mocks, hoping to get a rise out of him.

Grayson scoffs at Y/N's mockery, his expression hardening with annoyance. "You really know how to push my buttons, don't you? But let me tell you something, sweetheart. When you're the Aussie Icon, people begging for your attention is the norm. And trust me, you're not the only one who's grown up, I'm just on a whole different level." He smirks with an annoying amount of confidence.

"You act like a 30-something year old frat boy who peaked in high school but still wants to seem cool to the 'youngins'. And that haircut isn't helping, babe." Y/N knows she's lying through her teeth just to make him mad, but all's fair in love and war, right?

Grayson's nostrils flare as he grows more irritated by the minute. "First of all, I'm not some old codger stuck in the past. And as for my haircut, I'll have you know that it's a classic style. I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, with your boring, uninspired look."

"Haha, very original insult. Calling my style boring, really? You don't have anything better up there in that ol' noggin of yours? Come on, now." Y/N feels a pang of guilt being this mean to Grayson, sure, they squabble often but it's all in good fun. But this almost feels a bit too far, like she needs to lighten the mood a little. But she doesn't, only continues to egg him on.

Grayson's annoyance turns into anger as he clenches his fists, trying to maintain his composure. "Oh, you want originality, huh? How about this, I've seen more personality from a brick wall than from you. You're plain and forgettable, just like your insults."

That stung a bit. Hearing the guy you've been hopelessly crushing on for 2 years say you're forgettable? Ouch. She'd almost believe it, too, if this didn't happen every week.

"Yeah, yeah, don't forget, I'm gross, annoying, always in your way, etcetera etcetera. Admit it, Waller, you're obsessed with me. How else are you literally ALWAYS bumping into me, huh? care to explain?" She prodded. 

"Obsessed? Me? Please. I have much better things to do than pay attention to you. You're just... unfortunately always there. And if I do bump into you, it's only because you're constantly standing in my way. You're like a thorn in my side, a mosquito buzzing in my ear." Grayson tried to convince both Y/N and himself, though they both knew it was a lie.

"And I'll continue being that thorn in your side as long as I live. I get such a kick out of watching you lose your temper, it's absolutely hilarious!" Finally, something to lighten the banter a little. Y/N giggles after her sentence just to rub in the point a bit more.

"Oh, I bet you do. You get some sort of sick satisfaction out of getting under my skin, yeah? Well, guess what? I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. I'll stay calm and above it all, no matter how much you try to annoy me."

"Way too late, babe. You've already lost it once." Y/N grins. "Let's see how long you can keep up the act, huh?" Y/N smirks up at him, knowing he can't keep his cool forever.

"Don't call me babe," Grayson says through gritted teeth. "And I haven't lost anything. I'm in full control of my emotions. I may have gotten irritated at your childish behavior, but that doesn't mean anything. I can keep this up all night, so don't test me."

Y/N smiles wide, "oookay, babe, let's give it a try, then!" She begins lightly tapping him on his arms and chest, trying to get on his nerves as much as possible. Grayson's jaw tightens as he struggles to keep his temper in check. He takes a deep breath, attempting to stay calm. "Do you really think your little taps are going to bother me? I'm not some fragile flower that's going to snap just because you touch me."

Y/N frowns. "Aw, bummer. I was really hoping you'd just shatter in front of me so I didn't have to look at that face any more. What a shame."

Grayson's temper flare even more, his patience wearing thin. "Shatter? You wish. I'm tougher than you could ever imagine. And my face, you know you're secretly jealous of my good looks. Admit it. You can't keep your eyes off me." 

"Very funny, Waller. You'd be one to talk, huh? I've seen you staring at me from across the room more times than I can count. What's the deal with that, anyway? Am I so pretty you can't stand it? Do you like me so much you have to steal a glance whenever I'm around?"

Grayson glares at Y/N, his cheeks slightly flushed. "What? Me staring? That's ridiculous. I don't... I mean, yeah, you're attractive, but that doesn't mean anything. It's not like I'm... it doesn't matter. Shut up." He looks away, embarrassed. Y/N can't help but find it endearing.

"Woooow, I finally got the cocky, arrogant boy all flustered, huh? Lucky me. How cute." Y/N smiles, a genuine one for once, rather than a smirk.

"Shut up," Grayson growls, trying to regain his composure. "You didn't get me flustered. Don't think so highly of yourself, princess. I just wasn't expecting you to bring up me... noticing your appearance. That's all."

"You brought it up first, did you not? And hey, I couldn't have noticed you staring if I didn't look over at you now and then, right? I never denied it when you accused me of staring, did I?" She's playing with fire now, but it feels so good. This could go one of two ways, horribly wrong, or horribly right. 

Grayson swallows hard, feeling embarrassed at being called out. "Fine, so maybe I've looked once or twice. It doesn't mean anything. I'm not some lovesick puppy drooling over you. I just... I happened to notice you, that's all."

"Right, right, and the sky is gray. You're obsessed with me, Grayson. Admit it."

Grayson huffs, clearly annoyed at Y/N's insistence. "I'm not obsessed with you! I'm the Aussie Icon. I have admirers and fans lined up at my feet. I could have anyone I want. I don't need to be obsessed with you."

"You certainly don't need to be obsessed with me. But you sure do seem to be. Hell, you're right. You could have anyone you want. So then, why don't you?"

Grayson opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again, clearly flustered by the question. He crosses his arms in a defensive gesture. "It's... complicated, alright? I don't have the time or patience for relationships, okay? I'm focused on my career and becoming the best. I don't need the distraction."

For all she knew, it could've been the way he phrased it, or the fact that she was finally letting herself be a little bit vulnerable, who knows. But that hurt. And she chose to believe him this time. "Right, of course." Y/N frowns slightly, trying once again to hide her true feelings. "Good luck becoming the best, Gray." She began walking away, not wanting to deal with her slowly breaking heart in front of the one who's breaking it.

Grayson watched as Y/N walked away, a pang of guilt tugging at his chest. He hesitated for a moment, his mind and heart both racing.

Then, he suddenly called out. 

"Wait!"

She turned around slowly, scared to hear what he may say next. "What's the problem now?" She manages to stutter out.

Grayson rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "I... Look, I didn't mean to be such a dick, okay? And I don't just see you as some thorn in my side. You're more than that, whether I want to admit it or not." He starts walking towards Y/N slowly, trying to make up the distance from her leaving before.

"Grayson, are you running a fever or something? Is this a prank? Is there a hidden camera?" She had never seen him be so honest, so vulnerable. She didn't know what else to do other than make dumb jokes to lighten the mood.

Grayson laughs softly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "No, I'm not running a fever and there's no camera. I'm serious. I've just... I've never been good at expressing my feelings, okay? I always act like a jackass because it's easier that way. It's a defense mechanism or something."

"I could say the same about acting like a jackass, honestly. It's so much easier."

Grayson smirks, a hint of humor returning to his usually cocky demeanor. He takes another step closer to Y/N, his gaze still intense. "Yeah, you definitely have a knack for being a pain in my ass. But it's... endearing, in a way." Y/N takes a step back, still very nervous, but finds herself against a wall instead. 

"Endearing... how?"

Grayson takes another step towards her, closing the distance between them even more. He leans against the wall, his face only a few inches away from hers. "Endearing because it gets under my skin, but in a good way, if that makes sense. You don't listen to me, you're not afraid to push back, and you never let me get away with anything. It's frustrating, but also... kind of refreshing."

"Oh yeah? I could say the same about you." She smiles up at him, feeling a small jolt of confidence rush through her. Grayson can't help but crack a small smile at her witty remark.

"Well, look at us, finally agreeing on something."

He studies her face for a moment, his gaze lingering on her lips for a beat longer than necessary. She notices and follows suit, looking at his lips for a moment too long before snapping out of her trance and turning away to look at the floor.

Grayson notices her eyes dart away and the blush on her cheeks, a wave of confidence washing over him.

"Hey," he says softly, gently lifting her chin so that she's looking at him again. "Don't look away. Look at me." He smiles at her, a genuine one, and she's sure it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

She looks into his eyes for a moment or two before whispering "if I look at you much longer, I won't be able to keep myself in check any more, Grayson." His heart races as he hears her words, her soft voice sending a shiver down his spine. He leans closer, his face so close to hers that he can feel her breath on his skin.

"Who says you have to keep yourself in check?" He muses.

With this, she finally stops holding herself back and quickly leans in, closing the distance between them and kissing him with such force that he nearly stumbled backward. He stood shocked for a moment before kissing her back with a passion to match hers, grabbing onto her waist and pulling their bodies flush against each other as he deepened the kiss.

After a few minutes of practically grasping onto each other for dear life, they finally have to pull away for air, but still hold onto each other and remain as close as possible. After a moment of gazing into each other's eyes, Y/N speaks up. "Finally. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." She pants.

Grayson is equally out of breath, his heart thudding in his chest. He can't help but smile, his hands still on her hips. "Oh, really?" he teases. "I had no idea you were so desperate for me, princess." At this, she slightly pushes Waller on the arm. "Shut up, I know I'm not the only one who wanted that to happen."

Grayson laughs, not at all offended by her playful shove. "Okay, okay, you got me. I'll admit, I've thought about it, too." his smile turns into a mischievous grin, "But hey, you were the one who initiated it first. Couldn't get enough of me, could you?"

She chuckles and blushes, looking away slightly. "Maybe, maybe not, who's to say?" Grayson raises an eyebrow at this. "Oh, now you're playing coy, huh? You can't just kiss me like that and then act all nonchalant about it. I know you just couldn't resist me any longer."

She leaned up to his ear, "and maybe I still can't."

Grayson's smirk widened as she closed the distance between them again. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her body against his again before he pulled away from the kiss.

"Careful, Y/N. You're playing with fire."

"Fire was meant to be played with, baby."

He laughs, looking down at her and smirking. 

"Well then, princess, let's play."

[nonranghaes]

heads up! berry the pup :) reader is a cat person.

you... honestly didn't consider yourself a dog person. it's weird to think about now that you're living with chris, and berry's curled up in your lap as you idly scratch behind her ears, but you didn't. chris knew that you were neutral on dogs when the two of you first started dating (in your words: you liked them enough, but never enough to own one, and you'd take care of one if you needed to). and then he introduced you to berry, and everything seemed to change.

it wasn't that you stopped being a cat person... but that you became a 'berry' person. you started keeping treats in your bag for her pretty early on, safely sealed into a little plastic baggie so that they wouldn't spill anywhere. you savor every walk you take with chris now, always hand-in-hand as one of you held onto berry's leash (most often it was chris, but you liked being the one to walk berry sometimes). and you love the moments like these, where she's curled up with her head in your lap, resting after burning out her energy playing with squeaky toys.

it's the sound of a camera shutter that makes you look up to see where chris has quietly made his way in, gym bag hanging off of his shoulder. his eyes crinkle with delight, and he doesn't even try to hide how much he adores coming home to this.

"you feel like going for a walk?" he says it quietly, a sign that he's speaking to you rather than berry.

before you can even respond, berry's head perks up, and she's already excited. he giggles, and he kneels down. berry scampers off the couch and bounds toward him, happy to see her other parent has returned home.

you rise up to meet him, stealing a quick kiss from him. "mhm. are you gonna let me see that?"

he gives you a cheeky grin. "nope," he pecks you on the lips one more time. "it's cute, though. you said you weren't a fan of dogs--"

"shh!" you clasp a hand over his mouth. "not in front of berry."

he rolls his eyes and kisses your palm. "right. i just like seeing you two together," he pulls your hand away, "that's all."

you can't deny that you feel the same way, especially when you see chris playing with her when he sits down to clip the leash on.

yeah... you're a berry person, through and through.