#since they'd be dragging around getting caught on everything all the time.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some sort of muted colors traveler's outfit, trying to use this corset top-ish thing in something. The sleeves are maybe a little too obviously just an old fitted bedsheet that I tore a neck hole into, but.. oh well lol

[f1fantasys]

Thought you were mine all along, guess I was wrong - Part 5

Summary - Lando's pov on everything that's going on.

Warnings - angst, dickhead Lando.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Lando's pov.

Lando knew from the very beginning that the two of you could never be just friends with benefits. His feelings towards you were too strong, and it was only a matter of time until he asked you out officially, knowing that you felt the same way.

Well, that was the plan. Unit Magui came back into the picture.

Your relationship wasn't exclusive - there was never a conversation about getting with other people, not that Lando had done so since you'd started, but all it took was a moment of weakness to unleash the terror of the next few months.

It was Singapore, like 3 months ago. You weren't at that race and Lando had just won. High on adrenaline from a much needed win, a familiar presence stood by his hotel door as he got in from the circuit.

He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her there. They'd fooled about in the past, but nothing came of whatever they had going on. He won't lie though, at that time, when they broke off, it hurt him more than he let on. Whether it was just the fact that once again there was no one to come home to, or something else, he couldn't say. And it wasn't soon after that you jumped into the picture, so all his woes about Magui were quickly forgotten.

Anyways, he'd invited her into his room, and one thing led to another, and the two of them fucked. He internally kicked himself the second he slid a condom on and buried himself in her. And the high - well it wasn't a high. It was anything but. All he could think about was you, and how much more incredible you were. Lando had kicked Magui out straight away, the guilt eating at him for betraying you, though he didn't have the guts to come clean.

Fast forward another 3 months, and this time she showed up at Lando's apartment in Monaco. He thanked the gods that you weren't there when she did, because his world came crashing down when she broke the news about being pregnant.

He wasn't ready to be a father, hell he wasn't ready for her to fall into his life so easily, but the more he thought of it, he really didn't have a choice.

And when it came to you? He thought it better to have you cut out completely because he couldn't bare the thought of being around you when you couldn't be together.

Seeing you in Monaco one evening had all of Lando's feeling towards you rush up to the surface. It was a no brainer, no matter how wrong, that he dragged you to his car and fucked all of those said feeling into you, knowing he would never get another chance.

He'd so wanted to come clean, tell you the truth, but again, he didn't want to see the look in your eyes when you learned of his betrayal. So he made up a lie. That he and Magui were giving it another shot. That he wanted to give it another shot with her.

He could tell you were hurt, trying to hold it together in front of him, and as much as he tried to say the words pregnant, or baby, he got stuck in his throat, and once again, he'd rather usher you out as if he didn't want you. He thought it would be easier if you hated him.

Then came the McLaren event in London a few weeks later.

Lando was caught off guard when as the elevator doors opened to reveal you standing there, looking beautiful as ever. He couldn't help but let his eyes roam over your body, feeling his cheeks heat up when he caught a glimpse of your cleavage.

It wasn't until Magui snapped him out of his trance, and when she kissed him, he went with it, not sure how he'd survive the few minutes with the girl he used to 'see' (?) and the girl he's seeing. He knew he was being a dick, doing this in front of you. But he was afraid, as always.

Lando had hoped to catch you before the interview on stage. He wanted to clear the air in the hopes of things not being so awkward, but of course there was no time. So he held his breath as he walked on, and somehow your presence calmed him, and the interview went on without a hitch. Ironic, he thought. But he wasn't complaining.

At some point later that night his eyes caught you and Magui. The sight didn't look pretty. It looked as if you both you ready to knock the other out, he intervened. And of course, being the asshole he was, he acted like a bitch towards you. He had no idea where the adrenaline came from, but before he knew it he was throwing words and questions to you.

''I'm in love'' the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them, and honestly? The look in your eyes could have killed him. This time, he knew he message up. There was no taking back his words, no going back.

He wasn't sure why he followed you outside, but again, his brain and body were on autopilot even though his heart was on another dimension. He made you choose, the bastard. And his heart broke a little more when you revealed how you'd already lost him.

Lando so wished he could pull you in his arms, beg for your forgiveness even though he didn't deserve it one bit. But he chose the easier route, his plan was he make you hate him, wasn't it? And he actively had no choice and needed to move on from you, so he stuck with it, and watched you walk away.

It was no surprise the night was spent wallowing, an annoyed Magui at his side, but he made the conscious decision to come clean to you. Only then would he be able to fully let you go, and concentrate on his new relationship and baby on the way.

He woke up the next morning and the first thing he did after showering was make a beeline for your room. Don't ask how he knew your room number.

Was it a mistake to just barge in? Maybe. Because the sight of you when you opened the door was one he wished he'd never see; you, in another mans' tshirt, legs barely covered. When when he saw who it was that shuffled in the bed, Lando felt a rush of anger flow through he body. Out of all the men in this world, you chose another racing driver, and that did unimaginable things to him.

He knew he had no right to react the way he did. You didn't deserve a disgusted look thrown your way when you whispered his name. He could see the hurt in your eyes, but Lando knew, before he said something he regretted, he needed to get away from you. But his feet were planted on the ground, stuck. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but each time the words got stuck in his throat. It wasn't long until you slammed the door on his face, and he didn't blame you. So he walked away, shoulder sagging, a mix of emotions roaming his body.

The weeks following that were the hardest for Lando. He'd hated how he tret you, how he talked to you, reacted as seeing you move on from him. Did he really think you'd stay single forever after he dumped you? No. You were too switched on for that. And you deserved someone a thousand times better than him. Didn't sting any less though.

One night, as Lando had flown back to Monaco from Spain and was driving back to his apartment, he somehow managed to end up driving to your place. He didn't plan on coming here, hell he didn't even know what he'd say to you. But his legs dragged his ass up to your floor and taking a breath, he knocked.

He heard shuffling instead, praying you were alone, praying Mitch or any other guy wasn't here.

For whatever reason you let him in, and he found himself sat on your couch, his nervousness turning him into a dick again.

Finally, he broke the silence with a chuckle, quoting you, and catching you off guard.

''There really isn't anything to say..yeah..easy for you to say, what with fucking Mitch so quickly''

''Lando seriously, grow the fuck up. How is it okay for you to move on, and not okay for me to?''

''Move on from what? We were nothing, it was just sex''

Lies. He knew every word leaving his lips were lies. But he wouldn't, couldn't correct himself.

He knew his words crushed your heart

''Yeah, exactly, it was just sex, so why is me fucking Mitch at the minute a problem? you said, voice like stone.

''You're over reacting'' he sighed, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair.

''Am I? You're the one who wanted to talk. So talk''

He stayed silent.

I'm sorry

''Like i said, i have nothing to say. You're the one who decided to stop...the sex, whatever..so why are you here?''

Lando's eyes found yours with a look you couldn't place, anger? hurt? pleading? you weren't sure.

''Lando'' you pressed, standing up, hoping he'd get the hint and leave because you were this close to breaking down.

''Magui's pregnant''

The words came out like word vomit. This was not how the conversation was meant to go, but he couldn't help but feel a weight off his shoulders lifted. At the same time, he needed to leave. He refused to see you break down because of him, in front of him, the selfish coward.

So, like always, he walked away, closing the door for your apartment behind him as he leaned against it, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

It was the baby he was mad at. Hell, he didn't know know if he was mad. He was just overwhelmed. Too much was happening too quickly, and in the process he'd lost the person he cared about the most.

Exhausted, Lando made his way back home, sighing when he opened the door to see Magui, fuming.

''What?'' he asked, sounding defeated.

He chuckled sarcastically.

''As if I wouldn't find out about your....detour, to her house'' she spat.

''It's not what you think'' he threw back, not having the energy to continue with ridiculous conversation, so he walked past her.

But the night didn't end there.

It was the beginning of the end for Lando and Magui...

A/N - quick little pov on Lando's side. Didn't really come out as great as I'd hope but hope y'all still enjoyed it? Let me know in the comments!

Taglist - @somanyfandomsbruh @lanf1an @annimausi @ernegren @plotpal @hurtblossom @rbv3rstappen @tylerstacobell @wanderingreigns @bowielovesyou @alexanderachillesisgay @sarx164 @xoxomansee @hurtblossom @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @msimpala-67 @jxnellat @chlmtfilms @abq654 @ernegren @stav2004 @myformula1addiction @ayap4paya @l0nelyhe4rts-club @callsignwidow widow-cevans meglouise00 @hoeforsirius @hahdb8 @cmleitora @oscahpastry @maxv33rstappen @saythename-sm @htpssgavi @xoxomansee @anayaverse @rendezvoushn

[caspiansinclair]

TKM KANDREW QUOTES:

- Andrew being described as being: "fiercely protective and territorial of Kevin”

- "He wanted to send Kevin away, but Andrew would never let him get that far without a guard."

- "He'd trusted Neil with Kevin because Kevin was important to both of them"

- "Kevin became a permanent fixture at Andrew's side"

- "Andrew collected Kevin on his way back to Neil's side"

- "The last time Andrew looked a breath away from killing someone Neil had used Kevin as a distraction"

- "If Kevin got pounced Andrew would get involved. He dragged Kevin around the brawl instead so Andrew could see he was all right."

- "Andrew flicked his fingers in dismissal. ‘He knew what would happen if he laid a hand on Kevin, yet he was stupid enough to do it twice. If he does it again I will not be as friendly.’”

- "The last time Andrew looked a breath away from killing someone Neil had used Kevin as a distraction."

- the whole choking thing. sobs. kandrew angst

- "Andrew stayed behind to keep an eye on Kevin,"

- "Andrew stayed behind like Neil knew he would; Kevin needed Andrew more than Neil did today."

- " Andrew was conserving all his energy for Kevin's quiet meltdown,"

- "This wasn't a practice anymore; it was a fight. Andrew was trying to cut Kevin off at the pass, and Kevin was daring Andrew to keep up somehow. Exy had been a raw point between them since they'd met. It was the critical part of their friendship Andrew refused to acknowledge and Kevin couldn't fix, a dream Andrew wouldn't believe in and Kevin couldn't give up on. This was a shootout years in the making, and Neil could barely breathe as he watched them struggle. Neil could see their tempers starting to flare in the little things, a jerk of Kevin's racquet here and there and the increasing viciousness of Andrew's deflections. It was inevitable that Kevin would win. Even left-handed, Kevin put too much of himself into his practices to lose to Andrew here. Andrew had all the raw talent to be a champion but none of the finesse; he couldn't beat Kevin with sheer force alone. When Kevin landed five shots in a row, he dropped his racquet and stomped toward the goal. Andrew put his racquet to his shoulder and watched him come. Neil expected Kevin to start yelling. Instead Kevin caught the grill of Andrew's helmet and slammed him back against the goal wall. Neil flinched and started for the door, knowing he'd be too late to stop Andrew from gutting Kevin but needing to try. Halfway there he stopped, because Andrew hadn't moved. His fist was at his side in an aborted punch and he hadn't even thrown Kevin off of him. He simply stood there and listened to whatever Kevin was snarling in his face. At length Kevin let go and turned away. Andrew shoved him in the back with the butt of his racquet hard enough Kevin stumbled and stepped up to the goal line again. A few seconds later they were back at it as if nothing had ever happened, and they kept going until Kevin finally had to sit down."

- idk. but i felt the need to put this in here: "Kevin turned and walked away. The interviewer stared after him for an endless moment, then spun back toward the camera and started rambling away about everything Kevin had just said. Neil and Andrew didn't stick around for the recap or bewildered speculating but followed close behind Kevin. Kevin didn't slow or look around on his way to the locker room, and he pushed right past his celebrating teammates in the foyer. He dropped his helmet and gloves on his way across the changing room and caught hold of the edge of the sink. He swayed a bit like his legs wanted to give out from under him and his hands were trembling so violently Neil could see it from the doorway. Instead of falling he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the mirror. "We're all going to die," Kevin said at last. "No, we're not," Neil said. Kevin thought about that for a minute, then straightened. After staring at his reflection for an age he lifted his hand and covered his tattoo on the glass. The result sent an odd tremor along Kevin's shoulders. Neil didn't know if it was approval or fear. All that mattered was that Kevin nodded and turned back to them. He looked at Neil first, then Andrew. "We have a lot of work to do." "Tomorrow," Andrew said, and ignored the way Neil looked at him. Kevin accepted that promise with a nod, and he and Andrew headed for the showers."

- "Neil looked back at him, but Andrew was studying Kevin. Andrew crossed the room to stand at Neil's side and caught Kevin's chin in his hand. He turned Kevin's head to inspect the new ink."

- "He doubted either Kevin or Andrew noticed; they were too busy staring each other down. At length Andrew smiled, slow and cold. It was the first time he'd smiled since coming off his drugs, and Neil couldn't help but stare. "Now it's getting fun," Andrew said. "Finally," Kevin said, equal parts exhaustion and exasperation." (JDKSSNAJ)

- “Choose us,” Neil said. It was enough to shut Andrew up—maybe only for a second, but Neil would take any opening he could get. “Kevin’s going to retake his spot on Court before he graduates. He thinks I can make the cut with enough practice and fine. Come with us. Let’s all play in the Olympics together one day. We’d be unstoppable.”

[eggrollforyou]

How Can I Say I Love You

Law x F!Reader

WC: 1467

CW: angst to fluff, parental/parental figure loss, tooth aching fluff, minor Law backstory spoilers (if you're not caught up through Dressrosa), seems like an OC but I'm too lazy for that, so leader insert 🤣, mutual pining, post time skip 

A/N: this was supposed to be a quick, cute thing, but that clearly got away from me. So I’ll be turning it into parts. Still cute, but apparently my brain had something else in mind. Readers and Law’s thoughts are in italics. Enjoy!

Three little words. Just three little words that seemed to hold so much weight, they'd change the trajectory of everything. Three little terrifying words that could mean the end, if unrequited. 

Far be it from Law to understand how the combinations of chemicals and electrical signals in the brain could have such a profound effect. He's known its highs but has experienced far more of its devastation. Was he cursed? Never able to express what he wanted to with you.

He first met you when you were both children. He, on the search for a cure for his disease with Corazon. You, another sick child, at one of the hospitals he was dragged to. “Hi, I'm (Y/N),” your small voice broke through the background buzz of the hospital chatter. Law turned around to see you sitting on the other side of the room, electric teal blue hair with a white streak framing your face. “Hmmph, yea, so what?” he grumbles indignantly. He hated hospitals. He was grateful for Cora-san to try to help him, but it was going nowhere. He pulled his knees into his chest and sulked while Corazon argued with the physician. “Are you sick?” you ask him, unphased by his grumpiness. Maybe that's why he's acting upset, maybe he just doesn't feel good. He must be sick like me, you think to yourself. “I'm sick too,” you get up to come closer to talk to the grumpiest little boy you've ever encountered and suddenly you fall to your knees in a coughing fit, unable to breathe. 

Law peeks his eyes over his knees, dark under the brim of his spotted hat, but showing concern that he quickly changes to a scowl, “You really shouldn't cough close to other people like that, you could get someone else sick,” he sneers. You finally regain your breath and sniffle. You were so tired of being here, no one to play with or talk to. Your mom had to work all the time to make ends meet and couldn't afford to take time off to be with you while you were admitted for treatment. 

So you spend your days alone with only nurses coming to check on you every couple hours. Your eyes were watering from the pain in your chest, but you continued, “I'm sorry. It's just SO boring here.” Law suddenly notices that you're alone. There's nothing to indicate an adult with you. It's just you and a stuffed bear that was nearly falling apart from living a loved life. “I-I'm Law,” he mumbles. “Nice to meet you, Law!” your face lights up. “Wanna play tic-tac-toe?” you ask, picking up a piece of paper and a pencil. He begrudgingly agrees and scoots over to you. You play several games until suddenly, you hear screaming from hospital staff and a tall blonde man with a heart shirt and big black coat runs, scooping Law up and running away. Hospital staff screaming about Amber Lead disease and quarantines as they chase them. Suddenly, you were alone again. 

It seemed like fate that you both found each other again as teens. You were walking to the beach with your fishing rod. It was just you now. You woke that morning, hunger eating away at you. It had been a couple days since you ate. Managing to steal a fishing rod from a boat at the docks the day before, you got up to fish. You need to try your luck again. Whistling as you walked along the shore trying to reach a rocky outcrop that would let you cast further out, hoping to catch something, you grabbed your belly as it screamed its displeasure at you. 

Law, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin were walking along the shore, trying to figure out where their next stop would be. Rounding a dune, he sees a girl walking with a fishing pole. Electric blue teal hair, pulled back in a braid with a white streak weaved in and out of the braid. Wait….who is that? I know that hair….could it be? he thinks to himself.

“Y/N?!” you hear someone call your name and you whip around looking for the source until you see that white spotted hat that you'll never forget. The same hat from that grumpy little boy in the hospital. “Law?!” You shout in surprise. He's not alone. In tow, he has a Mink companion, and two other boys- one with a penguin hat and the other with an orca hat. Law introduces you to his little band of misfits and you spend the rest of the day catching up. 

The others are asleep, but you and Law are still talking. You shed a tear that night when Law tells you Cora is gone. You never knew him, nor did you see their relationship, but you could see the hurt in his eyes. Even in the dim light put out by the campfire you're sitting by. Losing your mother, you knew the heavy feeling in your chest when you thought about her. “You should stay with us, we could always use the extra help,” he says with hope. “Yeah, that'd be great,” you smile back. Finally feeling some peace that your nights won't be so lonely. You travel with them for a couple years. Spending your days together on the loose, running wild, doing whatever you had to, to survive. You both would stay up in the early hours of the morning. Lying down looking at the stars, talking for hours holding hands, sharing your first kiss. You were inseparable. You loved that he found family again in Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. His heart had been through far too much, but he opened it for them. It made yours hurt less for him.

Those three little words. He felt it then with you. But his heart had been too broken, so he kept it guarded and close. Fearing what would happen to it if he uttered those words to you. Something he later regretted when you were separated again- on the run with no plan to regroup. A heist to survive, gone wrong. Law and the others managed to get to the boat you were stealing on time, but you were held up. Getting separated and then later caught by authorities. By the time you escaped, they were gone. You knew they had to leave. It hurt, but you couldn't blame them. You feared this was the end of your time with Law again. Ending abruptly like when you two met.

One of his biggest regrets was never telling you how he felt. Now he feared he would never get the chance. But it seemed the universe had different plans again. Law and his crew, the Heart Pirates, were restocking on an island- a simple routine stop. He surely wasn't looking for trouble as he was walking through the market, perusing the stalls brimming with vendors and customers alike. It was a busy morning, loud with laughter and bartering, but Law had his fill of the market. Having found a rare coin, he pocketed his purchase after paying the vendor. Making his way back to the ship, the voices grew quieter the further away he walked. He gave the crew the afternoon off, but as the captain, he had a pile of work to do. More reports, endless medical journals to read, he had a plan to start a pot of coffee and sit down in his sanctuary, his office on the Polar Tang.

The quiet abruptly ended and suddenly shouting and scrambling was coming from the market. “Stop her! Stop that thief!” a vendor screamed. Law merely peeked over his shoulder but didn't stop, it was none of his concern. As he rounded a corner leading to a bay where they were hiding the Tang, he was suddenly stopped. A woman running around the same corner slamming into his chest and bouncing back, “AHH! SHIT, watch it!” She bellowed. Law nearly stumbled over, with a scowl, ready to tear this person’s head off, he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. He's face to face with a woman with electric teal blue hair….with the signature white streak framing her face. “Y/N!?” He gasps. 

Your eyes are wide, you're stuck frozen in place. Law…. he's right here. In front of you again. But now, he's all grown up. You hardly recognize him. Tall, filled out, covered in tattoos it seems. You can only tell by his signature hat and his same tired, piercing eyes. “Gotta go!” you rush, spinning on your heel, carrying a bag of loot of things you clearly stole from the market and running toward the tree line along the path. Law reaches out, “Wait!” he calls out as he runs after you. 

Part Two

Tags: @shy-writer-999

Thanks for reading! I'm pretty happy with this portion and am currently working on the remainder of it, but because my brain won't let me post anything less than what it perceives as perfect, it'll have to wait!

Did you like this? I'm flattered! Wanna read more? Here's my Masterlist!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Six - Where Is The Party Princess?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

1.8K

Series Masterlist

a/n: thank you so much to @nirrahbrii for help with some translations! i don't think this chapter would have been the same without that little world lol

Where Is The Party Princess?

The Monaco Post prides themselves on their ability to keep the public updated on the whereabouts of our favourite royal. We've documented every one of her scandals, from the time where she was fifteen years old and found herself detained by the police, to last year, when she was caught in bed with American actor, Glen Powell.

For the past few years, we have thanked the Princess of Monaco for providing us with such stories. She was a royal like no other, one we found our readers could relate to.

So, that leaves us to wonder, where is the party princess now? It has been a week since we've last seen Princess Y/N. Our sources have reached out to members of the royal family and staff for comment, but only managed to get one reply.

It seems, dear readers, that our beloved party Princess has run away.

"Are you sure you want the party princess to drag you down to her level? Because that's what's going to happen next time we're pictured together."

Charles turned his full body towards her. "What're you saying?" He wore a frown on his face, one that didn't suit him. She realised it immediately. He looked so downtrodden when he frowned. "Do you want to break this arrangement off?"

Once again she shrugged. "Just giving you the option to get out before you end up like Frédéric Archambeau," she said.

"Who is Frédéric Archambeau?"

"Exactly."

Charles sucked in a breath. He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair and stood up. "That's it," he said, striding towards her. "We can break off this arrangement, if you want, but I'm not going to leave you to here to rot."

She scoffed. "Stop pretending to care."

Immediately, Charles took a hold of her mug and placed it down onto the coffee table. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "We're going away."

She couldn't stop the laugh that was pulled from her lips. "Fuck off, Charles," she said and pulled her hand out of his.

But Charles grabbed her again. He pulled her towards her bedroom. "Pack a bag, we're going somewhere warm," he said and pulled open her wardrobe.

"Where?" It wasn't a genuine question, more of a challenge. She sat on the bed and folded her legs under her body, watching him. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" Her voice was bitter, filled with venom as she watched Charles.

He found a suitcase under her bed and began throwing clothes in. It was impossible to sort out what was clean and what wasn't, so Charles just threw it all in. "Australia," he said. "Or Spain. We can go wherever."

"I don't want to go with you," she said immediately.

Charles released an exasperated sigh. "I am begging you to go along with this," he said as he crouched in front of her. "Don't even do this for me. Do it for yourself!"

"Why?" She cried. "Why the fuck do you care about me?!"

Charles dropped his head into his hands. "Please," he said quietly. "Just, let me help you."

It wasn't for her, she realised quickly. For some reason, Charles needed this. He needed this trip, she just didn't know why he needed her. "Fine," she said and began filling her suitcase with everything she'd need for a trip away.

A relieved breath left his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

That was how she found herself in Greece with Charles Leclerc. For the first few days, the tabloids had left them alone. The Monaco press wasn't around to write new crap about her (so they'd been recycling the same old crap).

It took a few days for her to really warm up to him. She knew Charles, sure, but she knew the Charles the world saw. She knew the rich kid from Monaco, the one that the tabloids wrote about, the one that had the tiktok edits made about him.

She didn't know the real Charles. The Charles that loved his friends. The Charles that had so much he wanted to do with his life. The Charles that was genuinely so funny. She knew the F1 driver that doubled as a super model, she knew CL16, not Cha.

Cha. When had she taken to calling him that? It had happened all at once, but she hadn't stopped. It was maybe their second day in Greece, their second day of peace, their second day of getting away from it all.

Every call she'd gotten from Henri, she'd ignored. She didn't need her brother's constant scrutiny. He didn't approve of the trip, that much was clear, but she didn't care. Henri had tried calling Charles, but, at her request, he didn't pick up the phone.

Both the Princess and Charles were used to being waited on through their vacations. They were rich enough that it had become expected. But, for this vacation, Charles wanted it to just be the two of them. No interruptions, nobody to report back to the press.

Just the both of them making the most of it.

She stepped out of her bedroom in the villa and yawned. Her body was adorned in nothing but shorts and a vest top as she walked across the cold stone flooring, heading towards the kitchen.

Charles was already sitting there. He sat in just his swimming trunks, a coffee in front of him as he went through his emails. (As embarrassing as it was to admit, it had taken the two of them two days to work out how to use the coffee machine. She and Charles each had a coffee machine, but this one was different, not as simple as having a 'go' button.)

"Wanna go out for drinks tonight?" She asked as she sat opposite him. Her body was turned towards the kitchen doors, looking towards the pool.

She hadn't had a drink since they'd gotten to Greece. Charles was incredibly proud of her, although he hadn't said anything. "We can go for a few," he answered. Nothing too crazy, Charles wasn't sure what to do with her if she got too crazy.

He was barely able to take care of her after they'd gone to The Hole In The Wall.

Maybe that was what led Charles to suggest something else. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience take her out for a night on the town. They'd managed to stay out of the spotlight for this long, and Charles could see how much good it was doing her. Doing both of them.

He wasn't ready to drag her back into it.

"What if we stay here?" He asked, standing up and walking towards the glass doors. He carried his coffee mug with him as he looked at the pool sparkling in the morning sun. "We could have drinks around the pool."

She let out a snort, one she assumed he would have found unattractive. "You still that embarrassed to be seen with me?" She asked through her snort. But then she saw the way his face fell. "I'm joking, Cha. Yes, I'd love to have drinks with you around the pool."

They went about their day, swimming in the pool, lounging in the sun, going out for lunch together (always in big hats and sunglasses. It wasn't the most covert operation, but it was working).

In the evening, Charles attempted to make dinner. He wasn't the best cook out there, but it was something he enjoyed. They'd gotten drinks on their way back from lunch, shopping in the little supermarket on their way back to the villa.

It wasn't supposed to be anything fancy, but she still dressed up. Charles had the nicest shirt and shorts combo that he'd brought with him and she wore a pretty little dress.

He wasn't going to admit that the sight of her walking down the stairs, sitting in the little out by the pool in that pretty little dress, it would have had a weaker man on his knees. Charles didn't know how he was still standing. Maybe because he wanted to help her, maybe because he respected her brother too much to try anything on.

She sang his praises while she ate, a far cry from the girl he'd practically forced to pack a bag just a few days ago. This was a side of her that the world had forced to hide away. This was the side of her he wanted to see, the real her that he wanted the world to fall in love with. Not the her that the world had decided to hate.

When they finished eating, they just sat there, drinking and talking as they looked at the pool. "So, are you actually friends with my brother, or is it just because he's the princess?" She asked as she drank from her wine glass.

Charles let out a laugh. That was exactly the kind of question he'd expected from her. "Henri and I are actually friends," he answered, not paying attention to the way her toe hit his knee (he didn't mind it, not one bit). "I'll admit, I felt bad when people called me the Prince of Monaco, and that may have contributed to me wanting to be friends with him. But our friendship is real."

She nodded as she sipped. "Must be nice having the Prince of Monaco at your every beck and call," she mumbled.

"You're saying that like you don't."

That dry laugh he'd heard so many times before, that dry laugh that Charles hated to hear, left her lips. "Trust me, Cha, I don't." She finished her drink and stood up. "At least, not the real Prince of Monaco."

He couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol that controlled her. But she hiked up her skirt and sat himself in her lap. It was so sudden, so unexpected, he had no idea what to do. Her hands were around his neck. "I'd rather have the unofficial Prince of Monaco at my beck and call. What do you think of that?"

Charles couldn't react. He didn't get a chance to, not when she pressed her lips to his own.

It wasn't slow, it wasn't full of passion. No, it was quick and clumsy. One taste of her lips against his own. And, when she pulled away, she laid her head against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have done that," she whispered as she played with his hair. "Oh, crotte."

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[midnight-mourning]

Sharing Isn't Caring

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 13💘💘

Hello! Finally finishing these up, bit of a busy weekend and this one in particular got VERY long lol, that being said hope you enjoy!

Prompt: i really liked that one promptober you made about the reader having robophobia ( cause sun killed a few workers and has been avoiding him ever since, scary ass animatronic) is it possible to have a prompt where yn is doing better, has work besties. Aside from the constant threat of being brutally murdered by a friendly animatronic, theyre work life is chill. Its around valintines day where y/n has made friends with the cute new girl. Both have platonic feelings for each other while also being flirty (satire, gotta kiss the homies goodnight) with each other, kissing cheeks, hold hands, other friendly touches. However this does not go unnoticed by our favorite daycare attendants. They too try to be playfully flirty and touches yn any chance they get. However envy gets the better of them when they want to be yn's valentine...

Word Count: 3475

Content warning: non-graphic mentions of death, dying, violence, etc.

Read here if you prefer ao3!

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"Good morning!" A voice greets as you walk into the break room. 

You look up from your phone, small, tired smile on your features. "Ah, morning Jaz."

"You sleep alright?" She asks, taking a sip of her coffee. "You look exhausted."

You wince, a reminder of your nightmare last night coming forth. 

Running, running, running, tripping, falling. Claws sinking in, a scream ripped from your throat, cruel laughter ringing in your mind as it happens and being able to do nothing to stop it—

You shake your head. It was just a dream. They hadn't figured you out. At this point, you don't know if they ever would. Lucky, you'd been so, very lucky so far that they were solely focused on being your friend. Not a bit of suspicion in either of them as to what you knew. 

You hoped to god it'd stay that way, too.

Several months have passed, and you haven't beared witness to anything quite so terrifying since. Though, you'd made sure you wouldn't. You never let yourself get caught up in the evening hours, and you never let yourself be alone with either Sun or Moon. 

Save for the few times they'd managed to make such a scenario happen themselves, however.

Sun had meant it when he said he'd cure your 'robophobia'. They were sure trying their hardest, at least. 

Chatting with you every time you came to drop off a delivery or supplies, dragging you along to partake in some on days they were—suspiciously—lacking a helper. Sun particularly like to play hide and seek or house, whereas Moon wouldn't let you leave until you took a nap. 

Both made it their mission to be as up close and personal as they could too. Touches lingering just a tad too long, cornering you in one way or another, tones playful, cheeky. To an outsider it would seem like harmless fun, but to you, all it did was make you keep your guard up more. Which in turn, only made them try that much harder. 

It was a vicious cycle, but after the incident that occurred a little or a month ago, you could at least say—for now—that your chances of dying were significantly lower than you'd have thought otherwise. 

You'd forgotten your keys. Or maybe lost them, you still weren't entirely sure. You'd gone through every inch of the Plex where you'd been working that day, without a sign of them. There was only one place you hadn't checked, and it scared you to your core. 

You had debated whether to knock on the doors or not. Ultimately deciding that you'd rather take your chances slipping in and out unnoticed then actively invite the devil to your doorstep. Or you to the devil's, you realize there's little point to figuring it out much further. 

The speakers play the usual tune, the space is empty as can be as you peek inside. 

A quick glance around and you spy your keys on the desk. It takes everything in you to not make a beeline for them, instead walking calmly over and picking them up. You're about to turn back around when—

*Thump!*

Directly. Behind you. 

"Hello Sunshine! What brings you here so late? Did you stop by just to see little ol' me?" Again, that cheeky voice that perhaps only you can hear the sinister undertones of.

You suppress the scream and the shiver you want to let out. Instead, you turn around with a small, forced, smile. "H-hi Sun! I was just um, looking for my keys. And what do you know, they were in here all along!" You lift them up, making yourself laugh to keep your nerves in check. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Silly, silly, I don't have any hair! And besides,"—a hand to your wrist, tone dropping just a tad—"You just got here. Would be a shame to leave so soon, hm?"

You start to falter. "I—"

"So come on then! You look ready to fall apart at the seams, and I can't have that happening to my favorite little assistant!" Sun shifts his grip to your hand, pulling you further along into the Daycare. "Don't you worry, I have just the thing to ease that tension."

He pulls you over a set of beanbags, he guides you to sit down in one, while he does in the other. Before you can blink, there's a coloring book and crayons in your lap. 

"Coloring is always soothing for the soul!" He states, finger pointing up in an affirming manner, then gets to work on his own book. 

There's only one thought in your head at that moment; you're going to die here. 

But, you're not quick enough to make a break for the door, so you have no choice but to accept your fate. Shaky hands gripping crayons in an attempt to distract yourself from your impending doom. 

As you go along, Sun pesters you constantly with conversation and questions. It confuses you, does he just like playing with his food or what? 

You answer best you can, but all the air leaves your lungs when he pops a question you were more than simply fearing. 

"—since we're such good friends, right?"

You freeze, and curse yourself for it, mouth feeling like glue as you tumble out a stuttered response. "Y-yeah. We're friends."

"Best friends?" Sun presses, leaning in close, you're waiting for him to take hold of you and slam your face into the mats just like—

"A-ah. Um, I don't know, I-I guess so? Sorry, I've um, not really had a best friend before..."

You were so screwed. 

Yet, Sun doesn't miss a beat, words a light as ever as he pouts. "Oh, well that won't do. I'll just have to keep trying until you feel completely confident in the notion that we are!"

And you were still standing the next morning. You don't know if it was a fluke, or what, but it certainly didn't seem that way. You'd take what you could get, though, and double, triple checked that you had all your belongings in their proper places from then on. 

Jaz clears her throat. Right. Back to the present. 

She'd been a nice change of pace over the last month or so. A fresh face to help you with things or pass in the hall. You were the same age, and related to each other a lot. It was… nice. To have someone to talk to, even if she couldn't know even the beginning of what you'd witnessed. 

But, you could tell her little things, insignificant, things that nobody could pick up on. 

"I had a nightmare, is all. I'll be alright." You sit down in the chair beside her, sighing. 

She tsks. "You seem to have a lot of those."

"It's not a willing participation, I assure you." You're rubbing your eyes when you spy a steaming mug being held in front of you. "Oh, you didn't have to do that."

A shrug. "Wanted to. Now drink up, I heard from Gary that we've got a lot of inventory to move today."

"Going to be a great morning then." You mutter into your cup as she snickers. 

Work had in general been a lot easier with the additional help, and just in general because of your new friend. She made you laugh, cheered you up on your rougher days, and was just in general a light in your life as of late. Not to mention, she'd inadvertently managed to help you overcome your fear of being touched you'd developed from witnessing the Attendants' actions. 

It was simple things, like touches to your shoulder and arm. Holding your hand and dancing around at the end of the work day, jokingly flirting and cheek kisses and the likes. No double meaning or the likes either, Jaz was just like that with everyone, you'd soon found. It eased you in a way you couldn't describe. You could relax around her and it felt like you'd gotten a bit of normalcy back into your day to day. 

Not to mention, through getting to know Jazz you'd gotten a bit more confidence in talking to others at work, and now had several coworkers you'd consider friends both in and outside of work. Things were… weird beyond that, but at least for the moment they were going alright. 

"So then I finally just told him, 'boy if you don't get your act together, she's going to leave you' and do you know what he said?" 

You snicker, adjusting the boxes in your arms. "What?"

"'But that's so much work'" She exaggerates the tone, with an extended groan and you let out a shocked laugh. "Like? Excuse me? You can't be serious right now."

You're still laughing hard as she pushes the roll cart through the Daycare doors. "That's insane. Does he just not care or is he stupid?"

"Between you and me,"—she leans in, voice low—"I think it's both. Fu-freakin' moron."

You giggle, about to give a quip in response when a loud voice interrupts.

"Good morning Starshine! Oh, and hello Jaz!" Sun stands just to your left, you don't know how you didn't hear him. "I didn't know you knew each other!"

Jaz lets go of the cart, arm wrapping around your shoulder. "Sure do! We're stuck being storage monkeys together. They've been a big help in showing me the ropes."

"As if you needed help, it's pretty straightforward." You set down the boxes in your arms finally. 

You glance over and see Jaz put her hand to her chest, feigning misery. "Oh, but if it weren't for you, i'd be completely and utterly lost! I don't know what I'd do without you, my best friend." She makes kissing noises at you as you laugh, gagging. 

"Knock it off." You swat at her lightly, then you look up to Sun. "If you just tell us where you want everything, we'll move it, Sun. Stop it!" You shove Jaz away as she pretends to try and kiss you cheek again. 

There's a snap then, drawing your attention to the attendant, you see the marker he'd been holding is broken in half, movements stiff as he glances down to look at it. 

"Oh. What a shame. Follow me, I'll show you exactly where to put everything." He turns, steps precise as he marches across the Daycare. 

While you pick up on the shift, Jaz doesn't seem to, simply taking hold of the cart again and following after him. You debate for a moment, and against your better judgement, swipe a wet wipe from the desk. The supply closet is tucked away in a hallway lacking light. So much so that it's Moon who finishes leading you. 

While Jaz starts to unload things in the closet, Moon waits at the doorway, attentive, unyielding in his gaze.

You clear your throat. "Um, need some help with that?"

His faceplate snaps to look at you and you swallow. It clicks to the side a few times as he examines you.

You nod to his hand, which you've no doubt is stained a deep purple by now. "I meant with the um, marker."

"Ah, thank you, Star." Moon snickers, opening his hand for you to wipe it off. 

You take his hand in both your own, wiping off where the marker has changed the color. It's a bit harder to do in this low light, but you manage. 

You don't expect Moon to speak up again. "Best friends?"

It takes a moment to click to you. "Ah. Yeah. We are."

Moon makes a noise then, grating, you can't make sense of it. So, you just ignore it and finish cleaning him up before going to help Jaz. Had you paid closer attention, you'd have noticed how tightly his hand grips the doorway, making it creak under the pressure. 

After that day, you notice that both Sun and Moon have somehow become more clingy. 

It wasn't just short conversations and little activities anymore. It was full blown discussions and non-stop things to do. Anytime you tried to protest that you were far too busy to spend so much time with them, they simply argued that nobody would say a thing. Which, they were right, your manager didn't seem to care in the slightest. 

Those touches from before were ramped up, in that there was more hand-holding, more hugs, more everything, that you'd let them get by with, that is. All of their previous efforts from before felt ramped up, and you had no idea as to why. Not to mention that they appeared to be more flirty as well.

And then came February. 

Right from the start of the month, something was different with them, you could tell instantly. And you soon found out what. 

When you came in to drop off supplies or such, there'd be little notes or doodles waiting for you. You'd find their comments going from less friendly to having a more flirtatious connotation. And all of it only got worse the closer you got to Valentine's Day. 

"Sunshine, come dance with me!" Sun would say, dragging you with him to spin through several songs. Hand on your hip and words soft as he gave you compliment after compliment.

Moon would do similar, asking you to sit with him and read the children stories at naptime, watching over your shoulder and softly singing your praises. Or even better, acting out the stories with you, especially enjoying the more romantic fairy tales in particular. 

And the thing was, much like their attempts at friendship, all this doting felt genuine. 

It confused you beyond belief, besides the fact that it concerned you deeply. You were already struggling enough with this 'friendship' you'd been cornered into with the murder robots, the fact that they were acting as if they were romantically interested was only making things worse. 

The morning of Valentine's you were a ball of nerves. You were hoping—praying, really—that they wouldn't try anything, though you knew the unlikelihood of that happening. At this point, your feelings were so confusing, twisted. You thought they'd approached you because they knew you knew what they'd done. And yet, countlessly time and time again you'd been—seemingly—proven wrong. 

"You alright over there, Sunshine?" 

You jolt at the nickname, sending a scowl Jaz's way. "Not cute."

"I think it suits you well." She snickers, checking her phone. "What's on the agenda for today, boss?"

You tsk. "Not your boss. And I have no idea, I haven't checked yet." You rub your face, pulling up your schedule, only to find it's blank. You sit up, muttering. "That can't be right..."

"Something wrong?"

You try refreshing the page, no luck. "Yeah, my schedule's empty. See if you can pull up yours."

After a moment, Jaz holds up her phone, her own schedule showing up without issue. 

You both share a confused look. 

"Dude, did you get fired?"

You feel flustered fear build up in you then. "Better not of. They have no reason to get rid of me."

It's then that you notice an email in your inbox. Clicking on it, you see it's from your manager, telling you to see him in his office about a 'change of location'.

"I don't remember you saying anything about wanting to transfer." Jaz comments as you stand up. 

You shake your head, grabbing your jacket. "I didn't."

On your way to your manager's office, passing by the Daycare, you hear a low whistle calling out to you. 

You turn, it's dark, the only light is glowing red eyes on the top of the wall. Knowing you don't have much a choice, you walk over. 

"Hi, Moon." You say, unsure. "How's um, naptime?"

He twists, hanging upside down from the wall. "Boring. No one to talk to."

"Well what about Jean—" You cut yourself off, words dying in your throat with realization. 

Moon doesn't catch it, instead snickering to himself. "Sick."

Something in your gut tells you that's not in the slightest bit the truth. 

"Ah. Gotcha. Well, I should get going now." You wave and turn around. "See you later."

*Thump!*

A hand resting on your shoulder, and the sudden up close and personal presence behind you startles you, to say the least. 

"Wait. Have something for you."

You swallow the urge to run away. "Oh?"

"Mmhmm." Moon hums, right beside your ear. "Close your eyes."

You do, it's not as if there's a scenario where you don't. 

A pause. You're half-expecting something terrible, be it something grotesque or even something as cruel as your own end—

"Open."

Flowers. It's flowers. 

Origami flowers, at that. You're impressed by the intricacy of the folding, they're delicate, precise. Something that would have taken even the most skilled of individuals genuine time and care to make. 

And you're being presented a massive bouquet of them.

"Wow..." You trail off, consumed with genuine awe. "I, for me?"

Moon snickers, faceplate spinning once. "Happy Valentine's, Little Star."

Right, Valentine's. You'd entirely forgotten for a moment. 

While you're in your daze, Moon plucks a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear. He then sets the bouquet into your arms with a gentle pat, then hops back up on the ledge. 

"See you later~" Another giggle, and he's gone, leaving you dumbfounded. 

Your boss hardly glances up at you when you step into his office. "Ah, finally. Sit down, let's make this quick."

You sit down, still not quite thinking clearly as a stack of papers is tossed in front of you. 

"Sign these, and then I'll switch you over to the Daycare in the system. Their liability and the likes since you're working one-on-one with the Attendant. Fionna will be in charge of you from now on, paychecks, etc. Think she lets the robot pick the schedules, for whatever reason. Any questions?" He finally looks at you then, raising a brow. "Quite the bouquet you got there. Do I need to get you a relationship form from HR too?"

You shake your head. "I, no. No, not at all. I, why am I being transferred?"

"Well, you asked." Your manager states plainly, then shrugs. "And you got a couple good recommendations so I figured 'eh, whatever'. You can start today once you're done here. Or take the day off, I don't care, not my problem."

You just sit there a moment, taking it all in. 

'You asked.'

You, asked.

You know a sign when you see it. And you know when an alarm bell is blaring in your head, it's best not to ignore it. 

But when you've got a gun to the back of your head, that's much harder to ignore. 

You pick up the pen, and sign. 

Your steps are heavy as you walk back to the Daycare. Jaz has texted you a couple times, your like a zombie as you type by brief responses. You don't know what to think. Should you be relieved, or counting your days? 

They wouldn't have put in this much effort if they weren't genuine. Surely they weren't running this long of a con. But then that meant they were genuine. The killer robots were infatuated with you. 

You don't know which is worse, you don't know which is worse, you don't know which is worse—

"Hello Sunbeam! I'm so happy to see you!" 

You look up, Sun stands before you, rays spinning gleefully. You didn't even realize you'd walked into the Daycare. 

He claps his hands. "Oh! We're going to have so much fun, fun, fun! We get to spend all day long together! Just you and me! And well, the children too. But still, isn't it great?"

"I, um sure. I guess so." You mumble out. 

The slight twitch to his rays doesn't go unnoticed by you. The slightest of shifts in his tone as he glares down at you.

"Come now, friend. Aren't you excited? After all,"—He suddenly bends to your height, leaving you face-to-face and inches apart—"Aren't we best. friends?"

You struggle to maintain eye contact, focusing slipping to the bundle in your arms as you try to think up a way to respond. 

A low chuckle interrupts your racing thoughts. "Ah, but maybe that's not enough for you either?"

"I, um." It is a miracle you've lasted this long with how you're fumbling over your words.

Sun's hands cup your cheeks, tone still a hum. "Love, all you had to do was say so. In fact, we wish you'd done so sooner." His smile presses to your forehead. "Not to worry, we're more than happy to make up for lost time."

You can only stare up at him with smothered horror as his thumb strokes your cheek.

"And now, there's nothing that's going to get in the way of that."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @pip-plz for the request!! As you can see I had a lot of fun brining these two back lol

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

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[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: JJBA part 4

Character: Josuke Higashikata, Okuyasu Nijimura

Pairing: Rivalry (romantic for both)

Type: Concept

I reallyyy loved the yandere Okuyasu concept you made!!!, i thought it'd be interesting to see how a rivalry between Josuke and Okuyasu would pan out. Darling could be gn or fem whichever is fine by me❤ Honestly i feel like the drama will be going from 0 to 100 real quick with these two, especially since they're best friends obsessing over the same person and that could never turn out well. Like, imagine darling being a friend of theirs or in the gang like the original okuyasu concept, shit would hit the fan😭😭

- 🥝 anon

As usual, here's an obsession that ends up tearing two friends apart since they're both insane.

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata vs Okuyasu Nijimura

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Possessive/Protective behavior, Jealousy, Minor violence, Dark themes, Clingy behavior, Murder implied, Blood, Dubious relationship.

While the two are very close friends, they no doubt have moments of tension.

I mean... When they first met they were trying to kill each other.

It would make the most sense for you to be part of the gang.

That way the two often have time around you as you're usually around the group.

For the sake of simplicity, I like to think this happened after the events of Part 4.

The two can often be seen as intimidating around you, but overall just like hanging out with friends.

Before their obsession the two always were with one another.

They are your classmates in school and often like to drag you with them on different activities around town.

The two most likely wouldn't have a rivalry until they knew the other had a crush on you.

Josuke and Okuyasu have similar views on love.

They both seem to believe in their heart when it comes to love, often following it.

Okuyasu is more perverted than Josuke at times but they both believe that their "one and only" will come to them.

So what happens when their chosen sweetheart is liked by them both?

First of all, Okuyasu would definitely be jealous since Josuke already has admirers.

So why can't Josuke give him you?

Meanwhile, Josuke is flattered by his admirers, but his heart truly yearns for you.

I'll be honest, there's a chance they could share, but they'd rather only one of them dating you.

You wanna bet they ask people for advice on how to approach you?

Both of them probably get flustered at the idea of approaching their crush.

Although Okuyasu may be bold enough to come out and be honest with you.

Josuke would do the same with time, although if Okuyasu makes a move first then he feels rushed.

The two follow you around, be it in school or outside of it.

They both refuse to see it as stalking, Josuke may even excuse it as being a "bodyguard".

After all, Kira may be gone... but other Stand Users are still around.

Imagine if they caught each other "stalking" you and confronted one another.

Maybe that's how they realize they both have a crush to an unhealthy degree.

The two would get into physical fights over you at times if pushed hard enough, or at the very least sling threats at each other.

The two are both hopeless romantics, often fanboying about you to themselves.

Everything you do is cute to them.

They both are poor at flirting but try their best.

They're both protective of you and will not give you any alone time.

Their fights with one another most likely alert you to their red flags.

You and especially Koichi can tell something is wrong.

The two tend to follow you around like puppies, competing with one another to have your attention.

They're fighting over doors to open for you, they're offering to make/buy you lunch, they're even offering to help you with a paper or other project you need done.

You're often invited over for video games by Josuke while Okuyasu wants to show you some cool spots around town.

You see, if their rivalry was harmless, it could even be cute...!

Unfortunately... These two can easily become volatile.

They both have a temper and can snap easily.

Which, if you're around, means you have to calm them.

It's a bit difficult but the two melt when you calm them down.

You're willing to do anything to stop their fighting.

They may not seem like it but they can be dangerous yanderes.

If someone gets caught in their crossfire (that isn't you) then they'll be caught in a Stand fight.

They're both easily jealous, even more so when they catch one another too close to you.

The two would probably only make a temporary truce for one of three reasons.

You seem genuinely upset about their fighting, which causes the two to snap out of it momentarily.

You're in danger and they need to work together to protect you, they both care about you obviously.

You're attracted to someone else and they need to get rid of another rival.

The two would not kill one another, they're still friends for the most part.

Plus... Josuke went through so much effort to heal Okuyasu many times before, he's jealous but doesn't want the guy dead.

They're both in this dangerous competition of gaining your attention.

The only way they'd stop conflicting with one another is if they saw their fight affecting you negatively or one of them gives up.

Even if you wanted to pick them both as your boyfriends, they'd still be competitive yet less violent.

The two grumble about the idea of sharing... but anything to make you happy, right?

I didn't realize this until writing this but they would have very similar yandere behaviors.

Clingy, Easily jealous, Volatile, Protective, Affectionate, Easily flustered, Mischievous...

Those are all traits they both share.

Granted, they have different quirks in their personality, but they both even have powerful stands.

They both just want their obsession to be happy.

In fact, your happiness may override their jealousy at times.

Their friendship will always have a bit of a rift in it... but their love for you both brings them together and tears them apart.

It's a complicated situation as they both care for each other and are romantics in some way.

Although... they both dream of hugging and kissing you...

Which brings more fighting.

Their rivalry is constantly teetering in between sharing and fighting.

It's tiring for you to deal with, especially when you begin to notice blood on their clothes.

They wouldn't stop until you force yourself away from them.

That's when they realize what they've done.

The two would probably clean up their act more when they realize they're losing you.

They never wanted to drive you away.

But you feel you have no choice as you're scared by their new volatile nature towards themselves and others.

This is another way they'd make a truce with each other, desperately trying to convince you to come back to them.

The two are willing to put their fights on pause to try and make things up for you.

They may want to fight one another deep inside themselves...

But the two care for you much more...

They'd do anything to have you back, including setting aside their rivalry just to make you happy.

[makerofmadness]

Dark Cacao Cookie (II AU)

(relevant posts: general AU post, DC dialogue post, GC explained post)

So fun fact: I'm not Christian and neither is my family but I remember maman like gave me those like cheap cardboard advent calendars around Christmas time when I was little because . Chocolate . I think sometimes I'd just eat several chocolates in a day dndndndd anyways this is relevant because You know how those like 50% of the time have really bad sugar blooms that are like. All powdery and ruin the texture but I still ate them i think even though they tasted like depression.

anyways here's chocolate with depression:

(haha see my tirade was actually relevant to this-)

He was the second to go. He had never let himself shed a tear at the Ivory Pagoda, even throughout those long, agonizing millennia spent effectively just waiting. Waiting for the day that it would be the right time. Not even being certain that those Cookies they were fighting for would come about again under a different reign. That his son would even exist in this time. That he'd never get to tell him a truly heartfelt "I love you" as his father again, and hold him in his arms.

He went on dutifully granting the wishes of all those Cookies that looked up to him. Some he developed a degree of closeness with, others would just come to him for what he could do- but he would provide, no matter how big the burden got. It was nothing compared to the feelings carried by his heart; to him, it only distracted from them. He wouldn't be like his predecessor.

...but his grief became too much to bear, and one day, after overhearing some of those traveller Cookies whisper of how the kingdom northeast had "fallen from grace." She had written to all of them just saying that she was busy, as odd as the tone of her writing read, she said not to worry about her. To keep meeting with each other as if everything was fine. This had gone on for... how long had it been since they'd last seen her, again? He realized what the wider Cookie world had yet to: The first of the five had fallen. After all that agonizing time trying to hold out till the future, had they really just been doomed form the start, wasting their time trying to outrun a fate that was waiting right in front of them to swallow them whole...?

Every feeling that has piled on top of itself had finally burst a hole through his heart, and he had to run away, to seclude himself within the Grand Temple. Cloud Haetae Cookie had to keep outside Cookies away from their master as he wept from deep within. And wept. And wept. And couldn't stop weeping. No one could reach him, if they even wanted to try. They didn't, as they tended to be driven off by the wailing from the temple...

He had never been in so much pain. Everything hurt so much. Every single memory, every feeling attached to them- all those joys and sorrows and angers alike began to blur as the agony of knowing that he'd never get to experience those days, those Cookies again- it all consumed him there alone. Every feeling led back to pain. Every feeling was pain. If all he felt was pain, then it'd be better not to feel anything at all.

Such was his last resolve. It would make everything so much easier- the cruel inevitable fate, the loved ones he'd never see again as anything but their enemy, the time dragged on to infinity- if he were to just become numb to it all. If he felt no pain. If he felt nothing at all.

By the time he finally emerged, there were still some Cookies visiting the temple, mourning his long-storied loss. Cookies who had never even known him

He decided to free them from their pain.

-

Present character:

Fatalistic. He is doing what he is supposed to as the Beast of Apathy, and does not have his own will or beyond that. At least not much of one.

He uses his sword to create endless snow storms. Those who get caught out in the snow for too long will find themselves slowly losing the will to carry on...

The Bloom of Apathy (or as it will be dubbed by the Dark Cacao Kingdom, Sugarbloom Syndrome) does not directly cause cookies to disappear the way that the Pale Ailment had. Instead, it simply makes them those the will to sustain themselves, until they become completely apathetic to whether or not they survive, to whatever may happen to them and those around them.

"Endless" is more so "until he decides to stop them." He can control how long they last, as well as the range of them.

Has never been very fond of Cloud Haetae Cookie, but never seemed to hate them- at least, he didn't let it show that he disliked them before, and he isn't really capable of it now.

His wings do not fly.

His tear flow was so continuous that by the time it finally dried, his eyecing had ran permanently.

He does not really spend time with Cookies except for a certain group, with sole exception given to Peach Blossom Cookie, but it isn't exactly what one would call a traditional friendship. It is more so that... they have a strange sort of tradition. Peach Blossom sees him come up the mountain and offers him a peach bao; Dark Cacao refuses. And... he actually may stop to engage in what could be considered small talk. As minor and flavorless on his end as it typically is...

Tends to fall silent.

Does not resist others' attempts to do what they wish around or to him, or to say what they please. He will defend himself physically, though. Not even he knows why. He thinks it's just him being driven by some unseen force of fate, but...

His dough is cold to the touch. It's also quite chalky in the bloomed spots.

He does not have much personality left, really, thanks to his suppressed erased emotions.

He does not truly wish to do what he's doing. He will bring apathy upon the Cookie World because it is what he is supposed to do. If he did not have that, well, he does not have any desires of his own anymore except to just be with his friends in peace, so he would do nothing at all.

To end this off: uh, this is I guess "spoilers" but. I decide what's spoilers and what isn't actually so

you know the spider boss? BY 3-30? (That I still haven't beaten on hard-)

. well . It has a replacement here.

And it Is Cacao.

(He would clarify that there is a difference between a Cookie becoming a dragon and a dragon becoming a Cookie- so, no, he is not a real dragon)

(Thanks once again to @driftwoodmfb for the art and also for the design on this!)

[charleslelurk]

omorashi for Carlando if u wanna get weird with it <33

Are we all ready for baby's (my) first piss fic?

Carlando + omorashi

From here

obvi don't read this if you don't like piss

Lando had been drinking Monster all day streaming, caught up in one more round, one more round, one more round with Max Fewtrell. The only thing that had finally dragged him away from his computer was the frankly insane text Carlos sent him from the living room, a risky move considering Lando has been dumb enough before to show texts to his camera without properly vetting them first. 

But the text did the trick, and got Lando to log off for the night and track down Carlos in the house. Which is how Carlos is now knuckle deep in Lando, opening him up while Lando shifts impatiently on his elbows and knees. 

"Carlos, just–ah I'm ready, yeah?"

Carlos presses a kiss between Lando's shoulder blades in response before pulling back to slick himself up and push in. The stretch is a little brutal, Lando overeager for it and rushing Carlos along, but it's bearable and he has what he wants: Carlos's cock in him. He settles more thoroughly down onto his arms, readying for Carlos to move. 

Carlos slowly pulls out and snaps his hips into the backs of Lando's thighs and Oh. Lando was so fucking dumb horny from Carlos's text he didn't take a piss before he dragged Carlos to the bedroom. And he has just realized because he could really use that piss right about now. 

He clenches when Carlos thrusts in again, worried he's going to dribble like a little kid. Fuck. He focuses on the hot pleasure of Carlos filling him, tries not to think about his bladder. It's fine, everything is fine, the sex might not be great for him now but he's going to be fine and he won't have to admit to Carlos that he hasn't pissed in like eight hours. It's fine. 

Lando loses himself in Carlos's steady rhythm and his bladder becomes just a small off pitch note in the background of an otherwise perfectly pleasant song. See? Everything is fine. 

"Dios," Carlos says deeply, folding himself over Lando, miles of skin on skin between them. And it would be wonderful if Lando could just focus on Carlos, but he can't. 

And then Carlos wraps an arm around Lando's middle and pulls Lando up with him, so they are kneeling on the bed together. 

"Fuckfuckfuck," Lando says as Carlos sets them on their knees, the arm wrapped around Lando pressing just beside his bladder, suddenly making it unbearable. Lando has never been more sure he is going to piss himself.

And then Carlos thrusts back in, not realizing Lando's expletives were not positive. 

Lando gasps, and claws at Carlos's arm across his low stomach, shoving it away from its tight grip. 

"Lando?"

Lando is gritting his teeth trying not to piss himself on the bed right here, with Carlos still buried inside of him. He falls back onto all fours and some of the desperation dissipates, the original angle they'd been fucking at helping things. 

"Lando, what's wrong?"

Lando just shakes his head. "It's so stupid."

"What?"

"I don't want to tell you."

Carlos pets over his back. "You can tell me anything."

"No, it's fine, just–"

Carlos pulls out, and something about the sensation, or maybe it's the way he does it so slowly, carefully, that stimulates something, and Lando literally puts a hand on himself so he doesn't piss on the bed. 

"Lando? Are you hurt?"

Lando grits his teeth as the feeling fades, the desperation going back to the level it's been at since Carlos pushed in the first time. "I'm fine."

"Then why are you holding your cock?"

Lando closes his eyes. "Cause I thought I was going to piss."

The beat of silence only confirms what Lando feared, that it's so stupid and childish and he was too busy being horny and Carlos thinks he's an idiot now. 

"Do you think you could?"

Lando opens his eyes and furrows his brow. The mattress shifts as Carlos moves to Lando's side, to see his face. "Could you?"

"Like yeah, I'll just walk to the bathroom now, but it's sort of a mood killer, yeah?"

Carlos licks his lips. "No, like… could you… here? With me… in you?"

Lando's brain whirs like a tire without traction. "What?" Lando takes in Carlos's face, how dark his eyes are. How earnest he looks. Lando looks down. His dick is still hard. 

"Or not… if that's too much–" Carlos starts. 

"How would we clean the bed?"

Carlos blinks. "There is a mattress cover on it. From when Piñón was a puppy, and not being trained yet."

Lando swallows, hard. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, like… I could."

Carlos nods, hair bouncing so a single strand falls over his forehead. "You should… still try to hold it. As long as you can."

"What if I am going to come?" Something tells Lando there is no fucking way he will be able to hold it in if he comes.

"You will not be making it that far."

Lando scoffs at Carlos's confidence, but when Carlos grabs his face and kisses him, he melts and forgets the jibe he would have punctuated the scoff with. 

When Carlos pushes back in, it's somehow worse than before. Lando doesn't know if the desperation levels are stacking on one another, or if the reprieve of pausing sex made the second time that much worse but Carlos was right, there's now way he's making it to orgasm with this piss still in him. 

This time when Carlos wraps his arm around Lando, he wraps it higher on his torso, but he pulls Lando backwards and into his lap, their legs folded under them, Carlos popping his hips up into Lando as he just tries to hold on. 

"I–I'm–"

"Try," Carlos says with an upwards curve to his voice. "For me."

Lando really does. Try. But it's a losing battle. 

With a particularly sharp thrust of Carlos's hips, Lando loses control. 

"Fuck." Lando is glad he isn't facing Carlos, knows he would be even more embarrassed than he is right now if he could see Carlos's face even if Carlos is into this, because it just feels really fucking wrong to piss yourself. Lando's cheeks burn, and he closes his eyes. 

Carlos's words cut through the embarrassment and make it a little hot though. "Oh, Lando. That's–"

Lando can feel the piss trails running down his thighs, and onto Carlos too. The room is quiet enough he can hear the piddle noise, the drops. He doesn't know if he wants to cry or if he's turned on by how Carlos is still fucking up into him with shallow thrusts. 

"So hot, Dios Lando, I–" Carlos stills and Lando wonders for a moment if he's coming, but Lando doesn't feel the hot pulse of Carlos's come in him, just Carlos still beneath him, and Lando realizes Carlos froze to stave off his own orgasm. Lando is suddenly fully hard again, despite the embarrassment, despite the way tears had prickled at his eyes for a moment.

Lando clenches around Carlos and he hears a gasp near his ear, then Carlos's teeth gently pressing into his shoulder. "Lando."

"Please move."

Carlos starts thrusting again and Lando gets lost in the rhythm, almost forgetting about his sticky thighs and the wet bed. He focuses on his orgasm building in him, of his cock beginning to leak against his stomach. Carlos is making deep sounds behind him, straining. 

Carlos comes first, already close and turned on by Lando's accident. He fills Lando, spilling inside of him and sloppily continuing to thrust until he can't. He pulls out and reaches around Lando with a shaking hand. 

But Lando is already coming. At this angle, Carlos's spunk almost instantly begins to roll out of him, and there is something blisteringly hot about the mess on the bed and the mess in Lando and it has him spilling over his own stomach, stripes painting himself up to his pecs, moans on his tongue. Carlos keeps him from falling into the piss puddle, shuffling them to the side to lie together for a moment, catching their breath, before he pulls Lando off the bed with him for a shower. 

"The sheets," Lando says when he properly sees the darkened area for the first time. 

"I'll buy new ones."

[howlsofbloodhounds]

nckdnsk howl you can't keep having these bombass headcanons while i'm still compiling stuff to write my fics (it's me, crowshipping anon) 😭 i'll probably share them when i'm done 🫣

jokes aside, since you want some two cents on killer and color being apart from each other...

cross takes the role of teaching killer about boundaries in relationships. he belatedly realizes that "wait, does killer have any hobbies or other friends apart from color?". and so it turns into a daily exercise of forcing killer (usually with violence sadly) to socialize with more people and find his own hobbies/activities not related to color. cross gets killer a secluded place to live (cross might have blackmailed ink into helping). cross makes killer decide on interior furniture, letting him have some choices in his living environment. baby steps, baby steps.

unlike color, of course cross is busy with his own stuff and responsibilities. i imagine he's on community service for what he did in the past. so cross is not just killer's only caretaker/parole officer. sometimes dream is there, sometimes blue, sometimes murder and/or horror (if they escape nightmare and once they're well-adjusted - i imagine they'd have an easier time than killer for... reasons), and there are other people as well. it's not a one-person task to rehabilitate a bad person - it's a community effort to reform them to be better!

(though i imagine for safety reasons, people usually take on shifts in groups. killer is still dangerous after all. i think murder, having previous beef with killer, will enjoy having legitimate reasons to fight killer and taunt him over his failures of controlling color and how he's not that dissimilar to nightmare. needs some tough love to get through killer's thick skull after all.)

after a while, cross thinks about getting killer some cats, though he is skeptical at first. it's not that he can't trust killer to take care of cats - he's just wary the caretaking duties and ownership might trigger killer's control issues again. so at first it's cat therapy sessions with ccino. killer has some alone times with the cats. maybe once ccino can reassure cross that killer can be a responsible cat owner, then it's time to GET KILLER SOME CATS!!! killer can adopt some hobbies, like crocheting so he can give his cats some fun accessories, or journaling so he can vent like crazy. oh yeah, and he needs a therapist too.

meanwhile, color is on his multiversal road trip with delta and epic. he feels excited and apprehensive at the same time. excited, because it's been a long time since he has time to spend with his old friends - he misses this so much. and apprehensive, because he can't help fretting over whether killer is okay or not - last time he saw killer, cross was dragging him away quite aggressively. epic is like "nah bro, cross won't kill him, don't worry. let's just relax"

so color is relearning how to be himself around people he love. sometimes color hurts delta/epic out of habit for not listening to him, and he's appalled by his actions. sometimes he begs them to let him see killer again, just a call, and epic and delta just have to flat out deny it for his own recovery. he can only hear updates through cross. sometimes he tries to sneak out to return to killer (yay portal powers!), but gets caught and coaxed into not doing anything reckless.

this is me assuming everything go swimmingly for both of them, though for killer it'll be much harder. imagine something goes wrong. like killer finally weasels one of his caretakers into bringing him to color, or color successfully sneaks out to see killer. imagine killer says to color that everyone is out to get them, to separate them. let's just leave everything and run away together. killer knows just a universe that nightmare has destroyed where no one can suspect. imagine color is reluctant at first, but then killer pulls out his guilt-tripping card again. he was miserable the whole time color wasn't there, so is color okay with leaving him? killer knows color knows killer is a terrible person, and yet color still tries to connect with him, not to fix him but to show him a better way to live. and isn't killer content with being with color, just the two of them against the world? whatever color decides to do, killer will agree. but, as killer proposes, if they stay, killer will not be happy, and will color live with that?

Grr yess thank you I Am eating this up more please 🙏 🙏 (crowshipping anon may I please be able to read your fics when you’re done with them???)

I am conflicted because I am like yes killer get worse you fucking vile creature and in the next I want to snap his fucking neck. I wonder if ink shares my emotions on this (characters in a story after all)

I can’t imagine what killers fucking journal would be like. probably alternating between literally everything about color and then just violently wanting to rip cross and dream and fucking dust to shreds because how dare they

it is probably the equivalent of that one post that goes “*writing in my journal with a glitter pen* I am losing touch with my humanity”

I know his bitch ass immediately zeroed in on his past victims—blue, murder, horror—and started tearing into them. probably knew cross would prevent him from physically doing so hes gonna do it verbally. hows fucking papyrus doing huh? hows that eye treating you baby blue? trick your brother into eating anymore meat horror? does he hate you now?

his ass would immediately use his knowledge and experience with/about nightmare to fuck with dream too. you can’t even save your own brother what makes you think you could save me?

he would most definitely attempt to sabotage cross’, murder’s, and horror’s “redemption arcs.”

theyre all gonna fucking hate him in these moments and its gonna take a whole lotta patience and understanding to not immediately murder him. (maybe thats what a part of him is hoping for) (looking at you stage 1, even tho you havent likely made a appearance yet)

his ass would definitely fake cry and pretend to be getting better only to just clock whoever is watching him out and attempt to escape (goes nowhere because he wasnt even allowed to know where color is)

but imagine the relief for a moment if color did sneak out to see him. before his guilt tripping bullshit.

like. like. cause I know his codependent ass was on the edge on a perpetual breakdown even when he tried to hide it and suppress it under his apathy and dissociate. his experienced mind is conjuring up images every horrible fucking thing that could happening to color, and stage 1’s anxiety is causing fucking constant nightmares and flashbacks and it makes it worse because I know he tries very often and frequently to shove stage 1 all the way down. (Nightmares still out there he hates color colors not safe)

no. no. he would just ruin everything, hed try to kill them—he wouldnt understand what killer is doing. killer cant die, color still needs him. stage 1 would be stupid enough to buy into cross’ bullshit.

i can just imagine the relief that almost sends him to his knees when he finally sees color. eyes looking him over everywhere—wheres the scars? wheres the bruises?—shaky hands (uncharacteristic) roaming over colors form. maybe even does something as dramatic as slams color against a wall with his body just for the drama of it all.

He’s real. He’s real he’s real—solid underneath his hands. Colors real. maybe so relieved there’s even some cheek nuzzles and maybe even some kisses from colors cheek to his throat.

and. and. and killer failed him. he failed. he failed to protect him.

he needs to be punished. he knows. color probably doesnt know but its okay he’ll teach him later.

and then there’s comes the exhausted but content full body sigh before killer melts against color and then here comes the apologies. for failing.

theres some reassurance from color—no don’t apologize its not your fault im okay epic and delta would never hurt me/let me be hurt—then it loops around to the fucking guilt tripping. killer im gonna snap your neck you prick.

oh boy imagine being killers therapist during this. hes gonna make your job miserable and like pulling teeth. hes gonna observe you and start using what hes noticed against you—the kids dont call anymore therapist person? oh your husband is dead..im sure its your fault.

and i can imagine back with delta and epic and color that if anyone tries to talk about killer he immediately starts defending him. like no it wasnt okay what killer did but come on he doesnt know any better (color knows logically that its killers responsibility to learn better anyhow)

id imagine that the experience with killer and the subsequent effects of instinctively hurting delta and/or epic mustve led color to those “hurting my loved ones” nightmares that delta is quite familiar with. and delta hates killer for this. he hates that he made color afraid of himself, that he did all that to someone he claims to care about more than anything.

“care about” his ass. this isnt love. this isnt what you do to those you love.

anyway i need color and epic and delta to cuddle up all nice warm and theyre there to comfort color when he wakes up screaming/crying. often times color just wants killer (the devotion when he looks at color is as comforting as it is terrifying), so at most epic and delta settle for something that could remind him of killer. a photo? killers jacket?

delta should get to punch killer in the mouth for this yes siree. epic gives him the immediate “yes” to the signaled question. (murder gets to beef with killer and also talks shit about killer out loud to papyrus & although killer doesn’t know it reaper and grimm know all the juicy details (murder talks shit while at their altars lmao) and are judging him harshly) (theyre like ‘damn bitch you live like this???’)

[unhappy-last-resort]

Counting Minutes (Yandere Roland x GN Reader)

Warnings: Implied stalking, unstable grip on reality, bombing threat, abandonment issues, non consensual touching (basically a strip search, not in a sexy way)

A/N: Finally working through my drafts.

Status: edited

Where. The fuck. Are you?

Roland glowered at the digital clock on the wall the numbers 7:30 glowing into the dim room. Usually you'd have been here by now, tactical terminal in one hand and coffee in the other, but you're late.

Everything was already a drag when you weren't around to tease or observe, even more so since he had to sneak onto Babylonia and absolutely can't be found out so he's forced to stay within a more abandoned area of Babylonia.

He already fears that he may have alerted Lee on accident when he was exiting your room earlier this morning. What the hell was that bastard doing outside your room so early anyway? Did Lee also have a habit of watching his Commandant sleep, or was he suspicious of his presence? Roland heaved a sigh, honestly, you should be honored by his presence here, he wouldn't endure Babylonia and their lackeys just for anyone. The only thing that makes all his efforts worth it is you. Being able to hear you, touch you, watch you, see you, being able to confirm that you're real. That he's not lost himself to an insanity so intense he's hallucinating everything, that a camera crew won't jump out somewhere.

"Roland, Roland, Roland...how naive you are." Roland tenses at the familiar voice. Of all things, he doesn't want to have this talk now.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear Hermano?" Roland responds with a languidness that they all know is merely performative as he slowly leans onto the wall behind him and casts a side glance at the door. Just come here already, what's taking you so long? Did you sleep late? Are you in a meeting? Are you...

Hermano bursts into a small fit of laughter. The sound irritates the edges of his M.I.N.D. "Of course they'd sell you out! Why wouldn't they? You're enemies after all, they were always going to abandon you in the end."

Roland's fists clench, anger coming over him so strongly it's almost shocking to him. No, no, no, no! You can't, you wouldn't! You would never do such a thing! You were too loyal to those morals of yours to back stab him like this, but... if you did, would it truly be such a surprise? Would it be that shocking if you did? After all, capturing him would give you a great amount of fame and power in Babylonia. Slowly, his hand reaches down to his coat pocket, the familiar square shape of that small remote in his palm as the room starts to feel almost suffocating.

Roland stills suddenly and he smiles, a chilling clarity surging through his M.I.N.D. like a tidal wave clearing away the filth. Well, then...if you're going to betray him like this, he slowly brings the remote out of his pocket and holds it to his face as his smile widens. Then no one will be opposed to him setting off the bomb he put in Babylonia's engine systems, no? To be fair, he has warned you a number of times to not betray him. Whether you understood them or not, well, that's not his problem now is it?

His thumb brushes over the detonation button in contemplation. Yes, he may as well before he gets caught and used for Babylonia's-

Click.

His breath hitches and his eyes immediately stare at the door, pointedly ignoring Hermano's scoff. Could it be that you've finally returned to him? His mechanical heart thrums at the thought, his grip on the remote becoming shaky and weak as seconds turn into hours. Would the door open to you, or an army? Will you betray him like everyone else, or will you stay? He hated to admit it, but he was desperate that it was the latter, he was desperate for something- someone that wouldn't abandon him and leave him floundering in an endless sea of regrets.

If fate was listening, grant him this one thing and let it please be you, please be you, please be-

The door opens to you, with your tactical terminal in one hand and fresh coffee in the other, just like how you look every morning, you're too busy studying your terminal to notice how your entrance has shifted every star in the universe back to their place and made everything right again. You're here, you're here at last in this little side room you've made your temporary office, you're here with him where you belong and you're real...you're real, right?

His body starts moving before he can stop himself, his breath lodged in his throat. He has to know, he has to confirm you are what you say you are and not just a cheap copy made by some invisible puppeteer. He yanks the terminal out of your hand, knocks your coffee away and drags you to him, terminal clattering to the floor and the mug shattering just after it, spreading coffee and ceramic everywhere as you voice your confusion. He wraps his arms around you tightly, too tightly, his hands moving all over your body, needing to confirm that you are made of flesh and bone as you claim. He slips his hands under your shirt to squeeze at your ribs, pushing just enough at the bone to feel it give slightly as it should, he buries his face in your hair and neck to make sure you smell the same way you should, he pries your mouth open to shove his fingers inside and thoroughly check your mouth for anything that might feel synthetic or mechanical, he shoves you against a wall so he can put his ear against your chest to count your heart beats, all these checks and more he conducts not even so much as responding to your cries for him to stop, opting to clamp a hand over your mouth when you become noisy enough to distract him.

After an hour of invasive and painful poking, he finally feels certain that you're human and real, with a sigh he lets you go and relaxes. Roland stares at you for a moment, observing your disheveled appearance, emotion absent from his face. Your commandant attire has been thoroughly picked apart. Your navy blue turtleneck is wrinkled and pulled unnaturally in several directions, the beige coat having been discarded long ago, your buckle is probably somewhere on the floor behind him, the fly of your pants hanging open. If he wasn't so upset with you he'd help put you together again. "Don't be late like this again." He mutters coldly before turning to stand at his usual spot beside your makeshift desk, leaving your dumbfounded and agitated expression behind.

For a few seconds, there's silence. The anger radiating from you is palpable in the air. "What the fuck are you talking about? Late? It's 6 AM? If anything I'm late because of you and your freakish strip search." Roland freezes in his place. Six? But that would mean when you arrived it was five.

Seeing his confusion you grumble and walk up to him, shoving your watch in his face with a look of disdain. The LED numbers stare back at him coldly.

6:04 AM.

Your expression remains unimpressed at his stunned countenance. Dropping your wrist you glance at the clock on the wall. "The clock in here is broken, that's why I started wearing my watch again."

You were indeed, not late. For the first time in a very long while, Roland feels humiliated. He even almost apologizes to you before stopping himself. If a simple misunderstanding is enough to break him, then he might as well give you another warning. A wide grin quickly replaces whatever apology he was going to say before.

"Well then, little rabbit of mine," Roland leans down towards you, his tone was taunting but a glance at his eyes would tell you the true weight of his words. "You'd better make sure you don't keep the wolf waiting for too long. Who knows what might happen if you leave a hungry wolf unattended."

[pomplalamoose]

Ooohhh so how do we think all the dynamics with dilf!luke would change if his kid was maybe ~10 years younger than you instead of your age (like maybe you met cuz you were their camp counselor or something and they got super attached to you)?

Omggg hiiiii! I got so excited when I saw it was you who sent in a request, I absolutely cherish all your ideas regarding this AU🩵🩵

Because I think it shows the subtle change in dynamics best I focused especially on a first encounter and then on how I imagine his child to cause further entanglement between him and you, since I think they'd definitely be the catalysator, especially in the beginning

• Luke, of course, remains a single dad in his late thirties to early forties and lives in a nice, cozy house with his child

• (if we assume they're about 10 years of age, he became a father at thirty)

• you, as a camp counselor/tutor/teacher/etc. don't know anything about his person, the picture you have in your mind consisting solely out of stories told by either his child or your co-workers

• but since you haven't met him yet, you're not particularly interested, not paying them much mind, as everything you know about the kid's guardians blurs together into a confusing mixture anyway

• of course this will change sooner or later, possibly when Mr. Skywalker comes to pick up his child and you see him for the first time from afar

• it's hard to miss him

• his consuming presence makes him stand out strongly from among the other parents gathering at the entrance, the dark, perfectly tailored suit he's wearing only accentuating the stark contrast

• maybe he just left work?

• even with so much distance between the two of you he strikes you as very handsome, though you can't help but feel glad you didn't run into him directly

• you wouldn't have been able to speak even a single word

• still you can't get him out of your mind and going forward you find yourself putting decidedly more effort into your looks

• just in case you see him around around again

• just in case should he take notice of you as well

• (you're only a little bit embarrassed by how quickly he put his spell on you)

• meanwhile his child, always happy to engage in conversation, seems to really love their dad, a smile blossoming on their little face whenever they talk about him

• especially as soon as they realize you're listening closely they can barely find another topic, making you endeavor to learn more about Mr. Skywalker a lot easier

• quickly you don't only know his first name but also when and if he's celebrating his birthday, what kinds of ice cream he likes best and which he doesn't like at all, details about his favorite knitted sweater and that he recently gifted them a rubber duck to take their baths with

• which is great, really, and you're not going to deny how very interesting all of this is

• but is he single????

• obviously you can't just ask a child whether their mum is in the picture or not and if their dad is currently dating someone

• luckily, or not so luckily, you're not the only one who's attention was caught by the tall, attractive man and you're able to catch some snippets of gossip among colleagues and the parents of other kids

• though gossip is all it is and soon you know why

• Mr. Skywalker is as cold as he is beautiful and impossible to draw near to

• it takes all of your courage to not flee the scene when one day his child decides to introduce you

• normally they let go of your hand as soon as they spot their father, quickly leaving you behind in their excitement as they jump into his arms

• today, however, they don't and you're starting to grow rather uneasy when they continue to drag you forward, towards a man already regarding you with raised eyebrows

• standing in front of him he's even more intimidating than from afar and you have to fight the need to lower your eyes when his gaze sweeps over you

• were it not for his child hanging on to your arm you would've left as fast as possible

• as it is though you're forced to stay

• bravely you endure the encounter consisting mostly of the child's happy blabbering and their father's polite but curt responses

• he's holding back, clearly not comfortable with your presence and studying you more and more intensely as time goes by

• he seems displeased and you have no idea why

• is your smile that terrible?

• did your greeting offend him in some way?

• does he not approve of how you're dressed?

• or about the way you interact with the children?

• you didn't think it possible but despite your initial feeling he eventually, slowly, starts to warm up to you over the next few months

• maybe due to the way his child obviously adores you?

• (yes absolutely, you're the only topic they can talk about at home, similarly to how they only talk about their father to you)

• true, he doesn't give you much to work with, the way he addresses you always stilted and his smile reserved, yet you couldn't be more relieved

• he doesn't seem to think you completely horrible and inadequate to take care of his child in his absence anymore!

• (also, as far as you know, none of your other colleagues have received a smile yet!)

• maybe you don't have a chance with him, this he made clear, but that's okay, there's joy to be found in a little harmless crush

• you dare to relax

• until his child invites you to their birthday party

• you had noticed, of course, how they followed you around like a duckling and how much you meant to them but still...

• wouldn't that mean to overstep a line?

• though when they present you a handmade birthday invite, smiling up at you so hopefully, you can't say no

• maybe it will make things easier for their parents (or hopefully just Mr. Skywalker?), you reason with yourself

• with you there they won't need to worry quite that much about a rambunctious crowd of little kids making a mess of their home

• you're good at your job and excell at pleasing even those hard to satisfy

• the longer you think about the upcoming event the more you feel your excitement grow

• you wonder if Mr. Skywalker is more relaxed in private

• as it turns out he's not

• and neither are you when you arrive and learn you are the only guest

• "I really like my friends", explains the child, "but I'd rather have you all to myself for once!"

• well

• there goes your plan to make a good impression by handling many kids on your own, while maybe sneaking a glance at Mr. Skywalker from time to time, who, in your head, sits somehwere in the distance, relaxing with a coffee

• of course, he does none of these things and instead never once leaves your vicinity, always lingering nearby to keep an eye on the two of you

• it's unnerving and continues to be so as you spend the day with activities his child planned for you

• at least there's no trace of a woman living here with them, which substantially lifts your mood despite the stern eyes you feel prickling in the back of your neck

• once it's time for you to go home you're exhausted

• to some extend you had fun, yes, but deep down you're ashamed

• how is anyone supposed to be taken seriously by an attractive older man while hosting a tea party for stuffed animals, rolling around in the grass and playing Mario Kart?

• does he even think you competent enough to do anything after watching his child chasing you with a water gun?

• your little friend insists on hugging you goodbye tightly

• "can we do this again soon? Pleaseee?", they whisper in your ear and you're inclined to agree were it not for the dark figure leaning against the wall a few steps away

• "you'll have to ask your daddy", you whisper back, hoping this will be a topic for another day and discussed without you

• once again things turn out differently though when they immediately throw themselves at their dad with great enthusiasm

• "DADDY CAN THEY PLEASE COME OVER AGAIN SOON?????"

• you don't know where to look

• what if Mr. Skywalker denys his child's request, here, right in front of you?

• he has the guts to do so, that much you were able to gather

• "we'll see about that, yes?"

• at least that's not a no, you tell yourself, yet you feel your eyes water in embarrassment

• forcing a smile you nevertheless thank him for his hospitality and receive a polite nod in return, before finally being allowed to flee the uncomfortable situation with burning cheeks, your heart beating painfully in your chest

• still holding back tears you've nearly reached the street when behind you the front door opens again causing you freeze

• half hoping, half fearing it's Mr. Skywalker you turn around, but instead spot the much smaller figure of his child against the backdrop of the lit interior

• you can't tell for sure but they seem to be grinning in mischievous delight before their little voice rings out clearly through the darkness

• "mY DADDY THINKS YOURE VERY PRETTY"

• for a second it's quiet

• then

• "but I'm not supposed to tell you because he says it's not proper"

[cannebady]

It's the future. How far into it, really, is of no matter here. The important bit is that they've finally reached some degree of an understanding.

There's an angel back in a bookshop in Soho, enthusiastic in his separation from the holy host and distinct lack of separation from the original tempter.

Well, he supposes lack of separation is a relative term.

Right before, well, before. Not Before of course, no, not that far back, but before their second, second chance he and Crowley were as close as they'd ever been. There were talks and walks and good lord the touching. They were so close then, right on the precipice before the Metatron and Aziraphale's most shameful cowardice yet.

Crowley had tried, of course he had. Brilliant, brave, honest Crowley throwing his heart into the ring in the final hour, a pleading hail Mary met only by an angel's repitious distance and foolish devotion to the wrong entity entirely.

Crowley does have reason to be vexed with him.

But that's behind them too, because they've always been stronger together and now, after all that's transpired (which shall be discussed at a later date), they've begun to establish a new normal.

And Aziraphale is grateful, well and truly, deeply grateful for the wellspring of forgiveness, or possibly acceptance, that proliferates in his dear demon. His best friend, the love of his life, a pure anomaly that Aziraphale had coveted since before he knew it was sinful to.

He certainly doesn't give a toss about the concept of sin now. Not now that his apology (a rather garish, lengthy spin on their apology dance that included no fewer than eleven doves, four streamers, twenty-seven individual steps, and one heartfelt apology made while holding the hand of a shell-shocked demon who looked nearly as relieved as he was conflicted) has been cautiously accepted.

They started small. Coffee once a week at Nina's shop to hash out their thoughts and catch up under the watchful eye of someone far wiser than them.

It was after the fifth coffee date (they're not dates, he keeps reminding himself, to little effect) is the first time it happens.

It, in this instance, is a moment of tension as one of them almost breaks the silence on the one piece of the Debacle they haven't bled out yet. They talked about the difference in their "exactlies" and how Aziraphale had always needed to fix things to feel worthy and how Crowley's loneliness had been nearly crushing, and that's really saying something for a demon.

But they hadn't talked about the kiss. About Crowley's desperate, last-ditch-attempt kiss meant to show Aziraphale what he could offer.

They hadn't talked about how it was almost enough to rip Aziraphale from his self-imposed duty. Or how he hadn't gone one day, not ever one hour, since without thinking about how wrong it was that he didn't kiss Crowley back with everything he was.

So upon the steps of the bookshop, after the fifth coffee not-date of the rest of their lives (part two), they prepare to say goodbye as the angel frets about whether it's too soon to invite his favorite demon inside (or to spend the rest of their lives together, either would be lovely). While preoccupied with invitations and proposals, he fumbles with the key to the shop door, enough so that Crowley reaches around him with a, "Let me get that for you, angel," in just enough time for Aziraphale to turn around and look him in his ochre eyes.

Time feels paused. Considering Crowley's abilities, it may have actually stopped. But Aziraphale can't think about that because they're so close, closer than they've been since before, and all he can think of is dragging those red lips down to his own and showing Crowley the depth of his devotion.

Crowley seems similarly caught in the liminal space of the moment, frozen on an event horizon that is as terrifying for him as it is exciting.

Aziraphale almost leans in, he's so close to it that it's almost an inevitability, but then he sees a trace of panic cross Crowley's features and time starts again instantly.

It's too soon. They haven't talked about it. Once they have, perhaps he'll be permitted a second go at tasting his demon, but he won't force Crowley across any more lines. It's his turn to match speed.

So he pulls back slowly, with a smile he hopes conveys his understanding and acceptance. Crowley looks uneasy for a moment, stuck in where they almost landed, before he too, pulls back.

They say a warm, if stilted, goodbye and Aziraphale locks himself in the shop for the rest of the day. They're working through it, but sometimes he can't believe his own stupidity. He left this behind and he can't even fathom why at this point.

---

It happens again because of course it does.

The next time they're coming back from Aziraphale's favorite sushi place, because they've graduated to a coffee not-date once a week and one dinner not-date in the same week and he's tickled about it.

Crowley has been his sparkling self all evening, funny and sharp and silly and Aziraphale's so ridiculously charmed by him he feels like there's glitter in his performative veins.

The Bentley stops outside of the bookshop and Aziraphale's heart aches for a time in the not-so-distant past when it would've been natural to ask Crowley in for a nightcap.

For now, he turns to thank him for a lovely meal, but when he shifts he sees that Crowley's staring at him in a way that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His gaze is locked on Aziraphale's mouth and he seems completely caught in his own mind. Aziraphale can only imagine he's remembering, because he's also remembering and good lord his self control is waning.

Suddenly, Crowley snaps out of it, turning his head sharply and grinding out, "Night angel, see you Wednesday," as Aziraphale takes his cue to get out of the car and head inside the shop. It's longing and abrupt, but they don't look at one another. Something in that breaks Aziraphale's chipped heart just a bit more.

It hurts, but he's brought it on himself for being a fool. He allows himself a cocoa, then a stiff glass of whiskey before he settles in with a copy of Persuasion and pointedly thinks of nothing.

---

Three months or so in, and it's happened so often that Aziraphale wonders if it's a cosmic joke or some kind of karmic backlash for his hallmark poor decision-making.

They've had so many almosts it's doing his head in.

There was the one at the drive in where they saw Casablanca and Crowley had looked so handsome limned by the screen light that Aziraphale almost lost his better judgment.

There was the pub where Aziraphale won a game of pool with a move so complicated and borderline impossible that Crowley looked like he may just swing him around and plant one on him in pride. Aziraphale wishes he would've. But that same shuttered (shattered) look crossed Crowley's features and Aziraphale found himself challenging Crowley to a second match to pull him out of his spiral.

Then there was the farmers market, and the duck pond, and the beach, and every other bloody place they went to and if the tension didn't break soon Aziraphale was concerned his patience just might.

But he doesn't complain because Crowley comes to the shop at his leisure now, walking in like he has a claim to it (he does, he does, he does) and that makes Aziraphale so happy he could almost lose consciousness.

But he's starting to wonder after his own ability to keep letting things go as, presently, they're both on the sofa in the room above the shop, in front of a roaring fireplace that came loaded with a divine miracle to keep it from burning or even singeing a single page, (a condition of Crowley's that Aziraphale was happy to acquiesce) and the exact right amount of wine in their systems to know better but not necessarily do better.

It's a dangerous combination because good lord does the firelight make Crowley incandescently beautiful (or possibly, it's Crowley doing so to the fire, as he's always beautiful) and Aziraphale is weak.

He realizes, after a moment, that it's quiet save for the crackling of the fire and last he'd remembered before getting lost in his head Crowley was talking but now, the air is thick with familiar tension and he can feel those serpent eyes on him.

He looks over and is caught in the softest, hungriest gaze he's ever seen directed his way. He can feel his own cheeks flush in sympathy and he watches Crowley notice, watches Crowley take in the click of his throat as he tries to swallow his want lest he tarnish this delicate balance of theirs, and watches as Crowley's hand comes to his own and trails upward, feels heat and goose flesh break out on his arm (his sleeve is rolled up, there's no barrier, oh fuck) in the wake of those elegant fingers as they travel higher, and loses his measured breathing as it traverses his bicep, his shoulder, dear lord his neck, then settles holding his cheek.

There is no mistaking it this time. No broken glances, no rage, just heat and static and love.

Oh, Aziraphale can feel the love pouring off of them both and it's like his thirst being slaked for the first time in ages.

"Crowley," he starts, and before he can continue he hears a rough, "Yes, angel. Just yes," and that's all he needs.

He grabs Crowley's lapels, a gentle mirror to before, and brings his lips to his beloved's and a moan rings out that both will blame on the other and both will be right to.

Crowley's lips are syrup sweet on his, his hands grasping with a whole different kind of desperation, the kind the screams "I love you, and I've loved you, and I'm going to continue to until the Sun burns out and then I'll find a way to love you some more", and Aziraphale is torn asunder by the heat building in his chest.

Crowley's breathing is a mess of gasps and low growls and Aziraphale answers with moans, and hums, and his arms wrapping around his perfect, brave serpent until the demon is in his lap, right where he belongs.

Ever the egalitarian, Crowley gives as good as he gets, cleverly licking into Aziraphale's mouth, biting his lip just to soothe it with his forked tongue, and Aziraphale has his hands lost in blood red hair and his mind lost in Crowley's blood hot embrace and he's crying but Crowley's crying too so it's alright.

They kiss for ages, allowing the second one to make up for the millions of times they should've done it before, until Aziraphale rests his forehead against Crowley's, stroking a thumb down his cheek to his jaw. Letting them catch their unneeded breath.

"I am terribly, irrevocably in love with you", Aziraphale whispers between them. It's about time he took the leap first.

Crowley's breath hitches and his eyes snap up to Aziraphale's. He looks into his blue eyes and Aziraphale lets him find what he needs reflected there.

"Angel," he starts before losing his breath again, "I never thought-" and fresh tears well on his lovely face.

"My dearest, you needn't say anything. Say what you will in your own time. I'll love you regardless," he jumps to reassure. Now is not the time for him to demand reciprocity. It will hurt and he will wait. It's alright.

The demon almost scoffs, but it's stopped by a small, sincere smile. "Of course I love you," Crowley replies, voice low and earnest, and impossibly steady. He says it as if it's an undeniable truth. It is.

Aziraphale makes his own desperate noise as he hears his devoted love returned to him and he's kissing Crowley again before he knows it.

They're finally here, in this world they've protected together. Finally on the same side and the same page.

As Crowley drifts off some time later, with his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and Aziraphale's lips to his temple, the angel allows himself to let their future take shape in his mind.

There will be peaks and valleys, he imagines, but it'll be perfect anyway.

[sleekervae]

The Bride [0.5]

Masterlist

A/N: I had a nice little push to get this next instalment out. Thanks again for all the support, I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it!

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Jesse returns to the ranch

Warnings: sad smut, angst, alcohol consumption, guns

Word Count: 4,987

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

Time was a luxury not enough people appreciated.

Billy and Eleanor still had a few days alone together, and they made the most of it that they could; chores in the house, exploring the land, Billy even taught Eleanor how to shoot a gun. She lamented that despite being Jesse's best mole, he still refused to get her a gun. Billy figured if she couldn't get one yet, the least he could do was show her how to use one properly.

And when the end of the day came, they'd spend their nights curled by the fire, or in bed, learning everything about each other both inside and out. Billy was quickly becoming enamoured with Eleanor, the dimples in her smile, how her brown eyes shone gold in the glow of the fire, her sharp sense of humour, the way her legs clamped around him with every shattering thrust he delivered her. Despite her lifestyle, Eleanor was stable for Billy, he became so comfortable around her very quickly.

But that, of course, was a problem.

A week's time was up soon enough, and while Billy was helping Eleanor draw up water from the well, they both turned when they heard horses thundering down the hill, following by the yips and whoops of the cowboys who rode them. Jesse and his gang had returned; and as the smile fell from Eleanor's face, Billy had a sinking feeling their paradise together was coming to an abrupt, unfortunate end.

The moment Jesse dismounted his horse, it was as though a switch flipped in Eleanor and she suddenly became aloof and sardonic all over again. Just as she had been when he found her in Silver City...

"My God, look-it what the cat dragged back," she sauntered over, her hands stuffed in her back pockets.

Jesse chuckled as he dismounted, "Thought you'd be happier to see me, Ellie,"

"I'm happy to see you alive, that counts for somethin'," she bypassed him to catch up with the rest of the gang. Billy meanwhile remained on the spot, curiosity and apprehension rippling down his spine as Jesse came over.

"Billy. You're alive,"

Billy smiled back, "Guess I am,"

"I've missed you," he grinned, his arm fell on his shoulder with a firm squeeze, "Thank God we found you," he then turned to his gang as the approached, still mounted on their horses, sweaty dirty, and beaten down under the sun.

"Fellas! This here is a very old friend of mine!" he then turned back to Billy, a glimmer of something prideful in his gaze, "Kid Antrim," none of his gang uttered a hello, barely any acknowledgement. Instead they simply looked at each other, perplexed perhaps that the last time they saw this kid he was within death's very grasp.

Jesse paid them no heed, "I hope Ellie's been taking good care of you," he said.

Billy's gaze drifted to Eleanor as she approached slowly, weaving between the horses. Her eyes, usually so expressive, were now cold and distant. Billy nodded, "She took care of me like a nurse. Couldn't have been kinder,"

There was no exaggeration in his words, no embellishment needed. But he caught something in her face, a flicker of an emotion he hadn't seen in her since they first met: a profound sadness.

There was a silent agreement between them not to speak of their... relationship. Not when he helped her hook up the horses, not when she started to fix up dinner, not when he offered to go chop her more firewood. It was suddenly as if they were complete strangers, polite to one another but the vigour within her, the passion and joy she'd exuded for so many days had dried up as quickly as water in the desert. Billy didn't have to ask why, he didn't want her to be in trouble with Jesse, nor did Eleanor want Jesse to give Billy any trouble.

That being said, Jesse Evans was not a stupid man. From the moment he returned, he could tell something was off with Eleanor. Her witticisms and fast tongue had dried up, she only showed a little bit of fire when she plucked John's hat off his head at the dinner table. Other than that, she seemed... different. Sad. And it wasn't often Jesse ever saw her sad -- or more he hardly cared to notice when she was.

She sat next to him at the dinner table, the boys already diving into the stew and bread she’d prepared. The well water was passed around, everyone’s glasses full. Billy was at the opposite end of the table, engaging in light-hearted banter with the boys as they peppered him with questions about his whereabouts, his adventures, and why Jesse was so adamant about having Billy join the Seven Rivers Gang.

Billy and Eleanor continued their lack of acknowledgment, only briefly meeting each other's gaze across the table. Billy's mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, the warmth of the hearty stew doing little to quell the chill of uncertainty that gripped him. He could feel Eleanor's presence like a magnetic force, drawing his eyes to her even when he tried to focus on the conversation around him. Every laugh from the boys, every clink of cutlery, seemed to amplify the silence between them.

Eleanor, for her part, kept her eyes trained on her plate, but her thoughts were miles away. Her heart was a battlefield, torn between resentment and a lingering sense of connection she couldn’t quite shake. She remembered the times when they had shared stolen glances and secret smiles, but now those memories felt like they belonged to someone else, someone naïve and hopeful.

The boys dispersed soon after dinner was done, off to smoke their cigarettes or traipse around the property. Eleanor was left to clean the dishes, she was silent as ever as Jesse suddenly came in with a bottle of whiskey clenched in his hand.

"Care for some?" he asked, "Might take the edge off?"

"What edge would that be?" she asked, scrubbing hard at the caked on food in her pot.

Jesse came up beside her, placing the bottle on the table with a hard thud, "You've been outta' sorts, today," he noted.

Eleanor scoffed back, side-eyeing him skeptically, "Guess I was just enjoying my peace and quiet for too long," she replied simply.

Jesse cocked his head, leaning in closer, "You sure that's all it is?" he asked, "... Did Billy... he do anything to you while we were gone?"

Eleanor had to be careful not to react too quickly, "He's been helping me all week. Within reason of course. Poor guy slept for nearly two whole days," she moved her pot into the water bucket, rinsing the thin and greasy soap off the metal.

Jesse wanted to believe her, he wanted to believe her so badly. But he also remembered seeing her with Billy back in Silver City, talking more than two strangers should've been. And now it seemed she barely acknowledged him at all. So either something bad happened between them, or something else happened between them and she couldn't tell him about it.

A flame of resentment began to form in his gut, "I'm sure he's been the perfect house guest, right?" he asked, "Lifting the heavy shit, chopping the wood, doing the dishes with you... all the stuff I do for you,"

Eleanor rolled her eyes, "Jesse, you've never helped me wash the dishes. Don't lie to yourself,"

"I'm just making sure I don't have a problem festering in my fucking house," he grumbled back, his jaw tightening.

Eleanor knew all too well where his mind was circling, and how she wished he was actually as dumb as he looked. She turned to him, looking him dead in the eye, noting the slight waver in his stance, smelling the whiskey coming off him as though he'd been to the damn distillery himself.

"There's nothing happening between Billy and I, let that sink into your brain before you go getting yourself worked up over nothing," she never faltered in her own hard stare.

Jesse managed a smile, a chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat as he placed a finger under her chin, "Good," it was all Eleanor could do not to bat him away, "Because I wouldn't want to get his blood all over my floors,"

"You want to help me?" Eleanor huffed, pulling away from his touch, "Go get the linens off the clothes rack outside," she knew he wouldn't do it, but it at least gave him reason enough to leave her alone.

Eleanor threw down her rags into the wash bucket, her elbows settling on the counter as her face fell into her hands. The cold sheen of water on her fingers couldn't quell the noxious heat sizzling through her. Jesse had done it this time; he had really threatened to hurt Billy. Billy, whom he had regarded as a brother for so long. But maybe that was just how Jesse operated—everyone was expendable for the right price, even Billy.

Even Eleanor.

Her mind raced, heart pounding in her chest as the implications of Jesse’s threat settled over her like a heavy shroud. She tried to steady her breath, but the memory of Jesse’s cold, calculating eyes bore into her, making it impossible to think clearly.

She clenched her fists, the rags slipping through her fingers as she struggled to hold onto something—anything—that made sense. It wasn’t just the threat to Billy that stung; it was the realization that she, too, was a pawn in Jesse’s game. She had always known, on some level, that Jesse’s loyalty had its limits. But seeing it laid bare like this, seeing how easily he could turn on someone he once called family, was a brutal reminder of just how precarious her position was.

She was none the wiser to the audience of one just outside. Billy crouched in the shadows outside the kitchen window, his breath shallow, his heart a steady drumbeat in his chest. The night cloaked him in its inky embrace, the cool air nipping at his skin as he strained to hear the conversation inside. Jesse's voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the stillness, making Billy's blood run cold.

His mind raced, torn between his loyalty to Jesse and his growing feelings for Eleanor. He hated the way Jesse treated her, the way he tried to control her with his jealousy and threats. But what could he do? If he confronted Jesse, it would only escalate things, put Eleanor in more danger.

He took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the weight of his internal conflict. He needed to find a way to protect Eleanor, to keep Jesse’s jealousy from tearing them all apart. But for now, all he could do was wait, and hope that he would find the strength to do what was right when the time came.

Eleanor felt around aimlessly across the floor, her only source of light a dimming lantern sitting off in the corner. Her fingers finally nudged against a solid surface, and with nimble nails she gripped the old shoe box and pulled it out from under her bed. She ripped the top off and found her stash of money, and as she counted she was relieved to still find the sum all there. Seventy-five dollars, it wasn't enough for her to branch out on her own just yet, but maybe one day...

She jumped however when she heard a soft knock at her door, moving quickly to shove the money back under her bed and get the door. She figured it might have been Jesse wanting to bust her chops again, or maybe even apologize for earlier. Hell, or it was John or Bill needing help getting to bed after drinking their weight in whiskey.

But instead, she found Billy. And he appeared sober as a nun.

Eleanor shook off her stunned silence, her racing heart slowing down, "You need somethin'?" she asked.

Billy simply shook his head, "Could we talk?" he asked quietly.

Eleanor huffed, glancing both ways down the hall before ushering him in, "Come on, come on," and she shut the door behind her.

Billy took a brief look around, her room was identical to his, minding the bed was actually made and she didn't have clothes hanging out of her dresser drawers.

"I didn't thank you for dinner," he said, turning on his heel towards her.

Eleanor simpered, "There's no need. But I'm glad you enjoyed it," she noted how antsy he seemed, he couldn't quite stand still, "Something wrong, Billy?"

Yeah, yeah you could say that. "I'm leaving, first thing in the morning," he said, "I figured I oughtta' tell you first,"

As much as it hurt Eleanor to hear those words, she couldn't blame him.

"Billy..." she approached him slowly, "You don't have to --"

"I know. But Jesse's in love with you," every word he spoke was like a fork through his tongue, a knife through her ears, "And as much as you may not wanna' hear it, we know what he's capable of. It's safer for both of us if I'm not here,"

Eleanor turned on her heel, her head hanging low. This was typical, how foolish could she have been to think that even for a second, she might get to actually be happy? How foolish could she be to ignore Jesse's flirting, his drunken whims and his outbursts? She always knew how Jesse felt about her, she also knew that sooner or later it may just kill either her or Billy.

Hell, it may even kill Jesse.

"Unless... you want to go with me?" Billy's voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to look at him, surprised by the hope in his eyes. She remembered the pain in his expression when she had left before, the sense of loss that had lingered between them. Despite everything, he was offering her a way out, a chance to escape the turmoil that surrounded them.

It was tempting, so tempting. The idea of leaving it all behind, of starting fresh somewhere far away, was almost too much to resist. But running away didn't solve anything for her back then, because that was how she ended up here. And if she did run it wouldn't matter because Jesse would still be out there, his feelings unchanged, and she would only be delaying the inevitable.

"I would love to," she spoke softly, her voice wavering on a sob she was holding back, "But I can't. I can't keep running, Billy. The infantry is still after me, and if I go with you then not only do we have to worry about them, but we also have to worry about this," she gestured to the walls on either side of them, "The boys will be coming for me so fast we might not even see 'em coming,"

"But Eleanor --"

"You're fast Billy, but you're not that fast," every word she spoke was harsh, but she needed to be truthful. He was the only person she'd ever truly cared about, and if sacrificing herself was what was best for him then so be it.

Billy came upon her, cupping her face in her hands. His touch was such a stark contrast to Jesse's, warm and gentle, he didn't elicit a frigid chills within her.

"I love you," he spoke with purpose, his eyes never wavering, his tone solid, "I don't care where we go, I'd protect you across the plains with my bare hands if I had to,"

Funnily enough, Eleanor remembered Jesse something so similar to her when they'd met, "You don't love me, Billy," she replied bitterly, "You don't even know what that means,"

He scoffed softly, a bitter laugh escaping him, "Don't I? Do you really believe I haven't spent countless days thinking about you? Searching for you? You don't think I notice the gold in your eyes? How much I love hearing your voice? Even when you're upset, your voice is my favourite sound in the world," His voice was a mixture of pain and determination, his gaze locking onto hers with unwavering intensity.

“I love you, Eleanor Aubert. I love you more than I ever thought was possible,” he whispered, his breath warm against her lips. “And if loving you means I have to let you go, to keep you safe, then that’s what I’ll do. Because your safety, your happiness, mean more to me than anything else in this world.”

The weight of his words hung between them, heavy and real. Eleanor could see the truth in his eyes, feel the depth of his love in the way his voice faltered, barely holding it together. His confession wasn’t just words—it was a raw, vulnerable piece of his heart that he was laying at her feet.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he added softly, his voice almost breaking, “But I couldn’t leave without telling you.”

Her heart swelled, torn between the warmth of his love and the cold reality they faced. She wanted to imagine a future with him, but his words held a truth she couldn’t ignore: they couldn’t be together. It was safer if he left. Safer if they stayed apart.

Tears welled up, spilling over as her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. The ache of longing mixed with the bitter taste of reality, creating a storm of emotions that threatened to drown her. She wanted to hold him tight, beg him to stay, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to let him go—for his sake and hers.

“I don’t know if I love you, Billy. But I feel for you like I’ve never felt for any man,” she let out a shaky laugh, “In a world full of hicks, ruffians, and cowboys, you’re my gentleman.”

“A gentleman?” He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb along her jaw. His face was inches from hers, drawn closer by the gentle pull of her fingers at the nape of his neck. “Not sure I can agree with you on that one.”

“And I’m not exactly a lady, either,” she replied, her eyes drifting to his lips. She loved the way they curved, loved the way they felt against hers.

“I beg to differ,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers. Her eyes glimmered in the soft light, the golden flecks catching the glow of the lantern. God, he loved her eyes. “Can I kiss you one last time?”

“Please do,”

Billy hesitated for just a heartbeat before leaning in, his lips meeting Eleanor’s in a soft, tentative kiss. The warmth of her skin, the softness of her breath mingling with his, made him exhale shakily against her mouth.

He pulled back, just enough to search her eyes, looking for any trace of doubt or discomfort. But all he found was the same warmth he felt, a softness that matched his own. Encouraged, he closed the distance between them again, his lips brushing against hers with a gentle, almost hesitant exploration.

Eleanor’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands rested lightly on his chest, feeling the heat of him radiate through his shirt. His touch was careful, his hands moving with a purpose that was somehow both deliberate and tender. The way he touched her, as if she were something precious, something he was afraid to break, sent a wave of emotions crashing over her.

With a quiet sigh, she pressed closer, deepening the kiss. Billy responded instantly, his hands cupping her face, his lips moving against hers with a new urgency. It was like a dance, a silent conversation between them, speaking in a language of desire and emotion that neither could fully put into words.

As the kiss grew more intense, so did the way they held each other. Billy’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her body tightly against his, the closeness sending a shiver down Eleanor’s spine. She responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair as she lost herself in the moment, in the feeling of being wanted, of being loved.

Billy’s lips tasted of the crisp air after a rainstorm, with a faint hint of the alcohol he’d had earlier. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as they kissed, every movement filled with a longing that had simmered between them for too long.

When he broke the kiss, his gaze locked onto hers, and she could see the hunger in his eyes, a hunger that mirrored her own. She gave him a small nod, tilting her head back slightly, an invitation for him to explore further. His lips traveled down her neck, sending another shiver through her as he moved with a blend of urgency and reverence.

Sweeping her off her feet, quite literally, Billy carried Eleanor towards the bed. A stumble over a pile of clothes was quickly dismissed as he was focused on one thing only - getting to the bed with her in his arms.

He gently placed her on the edge of the bed before removing his shirt, revealing a chest that rose and fell with anticipation. Kneeling in front of her, he was like a man on a mission, eager to please but unsure of himself.

Eleanor, sensing his uncertainty, reassured him with a tender touch, her hands cupping his cheeks as she told him it was okay not to know everything. With a soft smile, she invited him to lay down beside her, and he eagerly accepted, his muscles tensing slightly as he adjusted to the new position.

As they lay entwined in each other's arms, Billy's hands began to gently explore Eleanor's body. Clothes came off and were tossed carelessly across the floor. His fingers traced the curve of her waist, sending shivers through her. Eleanor closed her eyes, allowing herself to be carried away by the sweetness of their lovemaking, but also the looming sadness of his departure.

With a hesitant yet confident touch, Billy's hands moved to the delicate skin of Eleanor's inner thigh. Her eyes fluttered open, a mixture of desire and sadness filling her gaze. She nodded, reassuring him with a soft smile, knowing that they had to cherish this moment, even if it was fleeting.

Billy's fingers continued to trace the lines of her body, gently teasing the sensitive skin along her stomach and pinching her nipples. Eleanor felt a rush of anticipation, knowing that this was a moment she would treasure forever. Her breath hitched as his fingers delicately brushed against the sensitive skin between her legs, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Billy's confidence grew, allowing him to explore her with a gentleness that bordered on reverence. He traced the shape of her folds, careful not to rush, knowing that every touch was a precious part of this stolen moment.

Billy's eyes locked with Eleanor's, their emotions and desires mirrored in each other's gaze. He slowly removed his own pants, his erection standing at attention, a testament to the passion that now consumed them.

Eleanor's eyes locked onto his, the dark depths of his irises captivating her as he continued his exploration. Her breathing hitched with each gentle caress, her body responding to the tender touch. With a trembling hand, she reached out and guided him closer, the head of his erection sliding so deliciously through her.

As the intensity of their passion grew, so too did the sadness that hung over them like a shroud. They each knew that this was not just a fleeting moment, but an entire chapter of their lives that would be forever etched in their hearts.

Eleanor's soft moan seemed to jolt Billy back to reality, his eyes widening as he realized the effect his touch was having on her. He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in her gaze was undeniable. Nervously, he continued to explore, he knew she was trying so hard to keep quiet. They didn't want to alert anyone else in the house. This was their dirty little secret, their sanctuary in a wasteland. But fuck, he felt so damn good...

Eleanor gasped as his fingers wandered further, his touch gentle yet firm as he drew circles around her clit, pushing into her slowly. She arched her back slightly, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of pleasure washed over her. Billy watched her intently, his own desire building with every touch.

As he continued to caress her, Eleanor found herself lost in the sensation of his hands on her skin, feeling as if she was melting into him. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her nails raking down his back so hard he knew there would be marks in the morning.

As they moved together, Billy's touch became more assertive, his circles were tighter, faster, his thrusts sharp against that spot within her muscle. Her breath hitched at the simultaneous stimulation, her body responding to his every touch. The emotions were raw, the intimacy profound, and the connection between them had never felt so strong.

In that moment, time seemed to slow, and the world around them faded away.

The intensity of their passion seemed to consume them, their bodies writhing together as they moved in sync. Eleanor bit back her lustful cries, her body trembling as she reached the peak of her pleasure. Billy's eyes never left hers, his own expression a mix of awe and sheer desire.

As the wave of pleasure washed over Eleanor, she felt as if she was floating, weightless, her body was overtaken by a warm glow flooding down her spine and to the rest of her limbs. Billy watched her, his eyes filled with a mixture of wonder and desire. He wanted to capture this moment forever, to hold onto the memory of her face as she experienced something so intimate and raw.

With a final, throbbing thrust, Billy reached his peak. He surged forward, his body unable to resist the pull of Eleanor's. Their lips met in a passionate, desperate kiss, as their bodies merged into a single, quivering whole.

As the intensity of their climax reached its peak, Eleanor felt as if she was being lifted by some unseen force, soaring through the heavens and beyond. Billy, too, was lost in the ecstasy, his entire being consumed by the desire that had been building for so long.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Their hearts raced in unison, their breaths mingling in a single, continuous moan. The world around them faded away, replaced by the intensity of their passion.

As they lay there, still entwined, their bodies glistening with sweat, they knew that they had shared something truly special. A connection that could never be broken, a love that would last a lifetime, or perhaps even beyond.

But as the moment faded, reality began to intrude. The sadness that had been lurking in the corners of their minds returned, a harsh reminder of the inevitable parting that awaited them. They knew that this stolen moment of passion would only serve as a fleeting memory, a glimpse of the love that could have been.

Eleanor traced the lines of Billy's face with her fingers, committing every detail to memory. She knew that this would be the last time they would be together like this, it would be the last time for a long time...

Billy was gone the next day.

When Billy told Jesse he couldn't stay, it didn't take much for Jesse to put two and two together. His voice was edged with a hint of resentment as he asked, "Was she worth it?"

Billy hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He didn't want to put Eleanor in any more of an awkward position. Finally, he simply replied, "Take care of her. She's a good woman,"

Eleanor couldn't let Billy leave without some provisions, regardless of Jesse's feelings. She packed him some bread, nuts, and jam—just enough to get him by until he reached his next destination.

As Billy was about to leave, Eleanor wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. Billy wanted to kiss her so badly, but he restrained himself, knowing it wasn't the right time.

"I'll see you again," he whispered in her ear, "Promise I'll come find you, one day,"

Eleanor wanted to believe him, but she knew better than to trust the promises of men on the frontier, "Good luck, Billy," she replied softly.

He mounted his horse and was off, traversing the plains with ease. Eleanor turned back towards the house, her heart sinking as she saw Jesse saunter out with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

"Jesse—don't." It wasn’t so much a plea as it was a firm warning, like a parent cautioning their child against doing something reckless.

Jesse's nostrils flared angrily. He dropped the bottle on the porch chair and brought the shotgun up, taking aim. He could take Billy down with a single shot, and they both knew it.

"And why shouldn't I?" he spat venomously.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, but Eleanor simply shook her head and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "Because you love him," she replied softly. "As much as you want to deny it—I know."

He wouldn't have dragged Billy back from purgatory itself if he didn't care about him. After all, how many times had he regarded Billy as his own brother? And as angry and resentful as Jesse was, he knew Eleanor was right.

Without another word, Jesse dropped the shotgun, shaking Eleanor's hand away. He stormed back into the house, the door slamming hard behind him. Eleanor, meanwhile, sank onto the porch steps, her head falling into her hands as her tears began to stream down her cheeks.

[coff-in]

insect anon leaving their own coffin to ask: how would Ashley and Andrew (and your ocs!!! i want to hear more about them) react y too sibling [reader] dying because of their fault? like for example, in the scene where they are in the motel (?) and they go out because a hit man is trying to kill them, they accidentally leave [reader] behind and then they come back to find [reader]’s corpse

notes from coff-in: eheh! u wanna see my little guys react to the horrors :3 thank you, insect anon (also... what type of insect are you? u never said)

this is all assuming that sibling [reader] is close or well liked by the graves siblings. i mean... if they let you live after you escape then they must love you <3 ofc, ofc

andrew would be very distraught. it's such a preventable loss too, all it would've taken was a extra 10 seconds or so to tell you to leave the motel. he should've dragged you out, should've done anything to prevent this... instead he's having a panic attack in front of your corpse. it's hard for me to gauge how he would go about handling your death. we haven't really seen him react to a death of a loved one before... besides nina, but that was less of her being a loved one and more him being scared of getting caught committing murder, you know?

i can't see him completely moving on from your death. i don't think he would kill himself (not yet at least)... he would probably try to get you back from the demon/entity, maybe promising to sacrifice a number of souls to lord unknown when he/it appears at the hidden cult club. the way he handles your death would also rely on which route they go down.

ashley sees the vision and knows you're going to die. she's may or may not be directly responsible for your death. she's paniked too. this was NOT supposed to happen. she would try to bargain with lord unknown to get you back, too. for the most part... no matter what... she's mad. she's mad at the hitman for killing you, mad at the soda company for sending him after you, mad at their mother for leaving them in that fucking apartment in the first place... but most importantly, she's mad at herself. this is her fault.

decay would see andrew killing ashley and himself to join you, wherever you are after you've died. his resentment is definitely heightened. ashley has taken everything from him; his girlfriend, his parents, you. she has fucking ruined every single chance he had at a normal life... what's the point of trying to continue on? at least with this, you'll all be united again. the big happy family he deserves, without pain and consequence.

in the burial route... i mean they're still sad. hm. i think they'd take the time to mourn you properly. maybe on the bridge with their parents, or somewhere else (they don't want you to be remembered next to their parents, they actually love you, come on now) they still joke around with each other and the mood is lighter maybe.

i'm sorry if i seem apathetic in this. i'm not the best at mourning loss.

now it's time for my ocs reactions! wowie! i'm writing this for them separately, so that it's andrew, ashley, my oc, and then the [reader] as the graves sibling unit:

alexis would be bawling his eyes out. his role is supposed to be the pillar everyone leans on for support, he's the father that takes care of his siblings. having one of them die... it's heartbreaking. he's the oldest, he practically raised you like you were his own child. he's beating the shit out of the hitman (um, in his head after the hitman has died since... you know) after that, he's way more possessive and protective of andrew and ashley. they're all he has left of his family... he can't lose them. he won't lose them.

amber... is shocked. definitely shocked... okay, i'm pretty sure i can't hide it anymore, let's talk about amber for a minute. amber is obviously removed from the rest of the graves family. they're the black sheep of the family next to ashley. one thing that sets them apart is their nature. it's not wholly 'human'? idk if i would call them a tar soul like ashley (ashley is her own special cocktail of fucked up girlbossing that no one can replicate in my mind) but they do have bond or interest of the entity/lord unknown. they would find and succeed in getting you back. sure you're not the same as before maybe... but you're back right? almost as if nothing happened.

death to them isn't exactly trivial, but it's not a high concern to them. they assure you that something like this won't happen again. they're willing to pay the price to ensure that is the case.

amy breaks down. she's silent at first, quiet and muted. she's always been quiet and put away. she had to as to not stir up trouble for her family. but eventually... pop! she screams and thrashes in andrew and ashley's hold as she wrecks the room. what's the point in holding back, it's all ruined anyway! she wishes it was [the hitman] she was tearing into. she wants to feel his skin rip and bleed under her nails. once her rage passes over, she just sobs... curled into a ball on her knees, kneeling next to her dead sibling. it's not fair. it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! it should've been her! he should've killed her, not her you! it's like nina all over again... what did she do wrong to have you leave her?

andrew and ashley may not be able to reach out to her. she's so curled into herself that she can't hear anyone else outside. there's one less person waiting at home for her... it would make her more quiet and volatile. she already struggles with suicidal thoughts and ideation. it would tear her apart, having to choose to continue living with andrew and ashley or joining you in the afterlife. andrew and ashley have each other, don't they? they've always had each other! but you're all alone out there... she can't leave you alone, can she? what should she do? what would a good sister do?

aria would be upset. her reaction may depend on if you are her favorite or not, as she does pick favorites (the devious little woman she is): if you're her favorite then she's bloody furious, wishing she could kill that hitman a thousand times more, if not then she's sad, possibly even suggests eating you as a way of keeping you with them forever. either way, you were her beloved sibling and she's sad that she lost you. it's been a while since i wrote for anything devious but her reaction would be more along the lines of this post if you were her favorite. she'd be quiet and depressed after your death and her moving on from your death would also depend on which route gets walked down.

in decay, she's willing to nuke the entire family. she's lost one, her favorite, might as well bring the rest of her family along! things are already falling apart anyways. in burial, she'll put her feelings to rest. she loved you, she loves you, and she'll always miss you, but she needs to move on. she still has andrew and ashley there with her

a. vomits. they vomit and cry like a big baby because they are a big baby. the shake and cry and have tears and snot drip down their face until andrew and ashley snap them back into reality. crying isn't going to solve anything. um... they're just a big baby in my head. your death frazzles them completely and they look at andrew and ashley for guidance on how to handle the situation. this gives them nightmares. the fact they left you behind and that you died because of them! it's their fault... they could never move on from that.

they would struggle with fact that they're responsible for your death. their responsibility. their fault. their impact on the world... is that you're gone.

thank you for asking about my little guys <3 i love traumatizing them... it's always more emotional and impactful in my head tho :/ i hope this gives you some idea of their personalities at least. i wanna make sure that they're all different in their own way.

----

coff-in

[vexic929]

Only With the Falling of the Dusk

Chapter 3

Chapter 1: link

Previous: link

Warnings: spooky scary skeletons, canon typical violence

Ricki's next conscious thought was a haze of disjointed sensations: the muffled sound of voices speaking around her, a cold surface pressing against her back, and a dull ache spreading through her limbs. Shadowy figures wearing porcelain white masks surrounded her, their cold, expressionless faces standing out eerily in the dim light and contrasting oddly with the medical scrubs they wore. She tried to move, to defend herself, but her muscles felt like they were encased in lead. She aimed a punch at the nearest person but her arm was caught easily and instead, she felt a needle slide into the crook of her arm and then...

She blinked and the people were gone, the voices quiet. The hard, uneven ground beneath her and the faint echo of dripping water told her she was no longer above ground. Everything still felt distant and hazy, her thoughts jumbled. The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint scent of decay and earth. She pushed herself upright, her limbs trembling with the effort, and immediately doubled over as a wave of nausea hit her. She forced herself to breathe slowly, leaning her head on her knees until the sensation passed.

"Oracle, can you hear me?" She asked, activating her comms. Nothing but silence greeted her. She cursed under her breath, realizing she was truly alone. "Enable logging mode to send as soon as possible."

She paused, the faint sound of something scraping over the rocks catching her attention. It was probably just a rat but...she needed to get moving just in case. Ricki pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, swaying slightly, and stumbled forward, using the cave wall as a guide.

"It was a setup. I was drugged with chloroform, maybe something else." Ricki continued, tripping as her feet crossed in front of each other. "Shit. It's wearing off but I have no idea how long it's been." Pretty long, she imagined, considering they'd managed to get her down here.

The caverns could have stretched for miles or mere feet, Ricki wasn't sure, all she knew was that each new hallway seemed only to lead to another dead end. She rounded another corner and froze, squinting in the dark at what appeared to be fabric walls rather than stone. A circus tent?

Ricki's heart pounded in her chest as she blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. The fabric walls of the tent rippled lightly, as if caught by a breeze that didn't exist. Her breathing quickened, the tightness in her chest growing. The tent was an impossibility; she knew it wasn't real, couldn't be real, but her senses were telling her otherwise. Her legs moved on their own, carrying her towards the center ring, knowing already what she would find.

"I don't want to relive this..." Ricki whispered, her eyes glued to the broken trapeze swaying above her.

Ricki's heart hammered against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts as she stood frozen beneath the ghostly trapeze. The phantom tent loomed around her, its colorful fabric faded and tattered, like an old photograph. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn away, to run, but her legs refused to obey. They had somehow dragged her here, back to the place where everything had gone wrong.

The trapeze swayed gently, taunting her with the memory. She could see them now - her mother, graceful and strong; her father, full of confidence. They moved in perfect synchrony, like they always had, their performance flawless - until the moment it wasn't.

The snap of the rope, the gasps of the crowd, and then the sickening thud that had haunted her nightmares ever since. It had been so final, so quick, so instantaneous; it never felt right that it had happened so fast and yet every time Ricki saw it again it was in slow motion.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms through her gloves as she forced herself to look away. This wasn't real. It was a hallucination, a side effect of whatever they had drugged her with. She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to focus on what she knew was real - the scent of earth, the dripping of water, the feel of stone beneath her feet.

Ricki pressed forward, rounding another corner, sending something small and hard skittering with her foot as she nearly tripped again. On closer inspection, the object appeared to be an old digital camera, similar to something she'd carried around in middle school. The screen was cracked, the lens shattered, and the paint scuffed but, miraculously, it still turned on.

The small screen flickered to life, casting a faint, ghostly glow that barely illuminated the surrounding darkness. The battery icon flashed red, warning her it didn't have much time left. She held her breath as she navigated to the last recorded video.

The footage was shaky, the timestamp at the bottom corner indicating it was nearly twenty years old. The image showed a man, maybe in his early thirties, his face pale and eyes wide with terror. His voice was a hushed, frantic whisper, barely audible over the distorted background noise.

"They're not human," the man hissed, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows. "They're not- these things! I warned them, I told them- they're a crime against nature! Against God and man! They don't stop, they don't sleep, they're always hunting-" He froze, face paling somehow even further at a scraping sound a high-pitched hiss. "No- no! Please!"

The view fell from the man's grasp, clattering to the ground as the horrible hissing sound rattled through the speakers along with the man's final agonized screams that cut short much too quickly. The video had hours left but the battery warning flashed once more before Ricki was left in silent darkness again.

Ricki's fingers tightened around the camera, the last remnants of the video replaying in her mind, the man's terrified expression seared into her thoughts. A shiver ran down her spine as the hissing from the video seemed to echo around her.

She needed to move but her body was still sluggish, the lingering effects of the drugs making her feel as though she were wading through thick mud. Every step she took was heavy and deliberate, as she fought to stay alert. She pocketed the camera and trudged on, determined to find an escape.

The sound of hissing grew louder, more distinct. The hair on the back of Ricki's neck stood on end but she forced herself to continue at a steady pace, certain that running would only alert the creature (creatures?) to her presence. She took a deep breath, feeling some of the fog clear finally from her mind.

The scraping of claws and another hiss from directly in front of her had Ricki freezing in place, eyes scanning the path and wall. The creature emerged slowly, its glowing eyes piercing through the darkness; she could just make out the shape - humanoid but in a way that felt...wrong, its limbs long and thin, bent at slightly unnatural angles. Ricki's eyes widened as the thing crawled out of an old sewage pipe high in the wall, its movements inhumanly fluid and quick. The creature was wrapped in filthy, tattered bandages, its skin almost entirely hidden beneath the layers of cloth - what skin was visible was pale and leathery with a grey tinge. It twisted its head at an odd angle, goggles reflecting a sickly yellow-green light as it hissed at her, the sound somewhere between a screech and a growl.

Ricki reached behind her for her escrima sticks, immediately sinking into a defensive pose. The creature crawled down the wall effortlessly like a spider, setting all of Ricki's nerves on edge. She let out a slow breath, her grip on her escrima sticks tightening.

"Alright, ugly, let's dance."

The creature's hissing grew louder as it lunged at her, faster than she'd anticipated. Ricki barely had time to dodge, backflipping out of reach and spinning her left escrima stick, adjusting her grip to activate the electricity.

"Easy now." Ricki crooned to the creature, almost mirroring its animalistic crouch as it stalked around her.

The creature didn't respond to her words, its gaze fixed on her with a single-minded intensity that sent a cold shiver down her spine. It moved with a jerky, disjointed grace, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings, its glowing gaze never leaving her.

Ricki circled with it, keeping her breathing steady, her movements fluid, waiting for the creature to strike again.

The creature lunged once more, a blur of bandages and claws. Ricki flipped sideways, swinging one of her escrima sticks to connect with its side. The impact sent a jolt through the creature, causing it to convulse and emit an ear-piercing screech that echoed through the cavern. But it wasn't enough to stop it.

The creature hissed again, recovering from the electric shock faster than she expected. It scrambled back up the wall, its movements erratic, as if the electricity had only made it more agitated.

Ricki took a deep breath, flinging one of her escrima sticks at the creature. It dodged, as she anticipated, but the stick ricocheted off the wall and struck the creature from behind, knocking it to the ground again and disorienting it just long enough for her to close the distance.

Ricki threw herself at the creature with all the force she could muster, tackling it to the ground. She pinned it down, using her remaining escrima stick to press its neck against the cold stone floor. The creature thrashed beneath her, its talons swiping wildly, but she held firm.

"Stay...down..." Ricki hissed through gritted teeth.

The creature screeched one more time before finally going limp. Ricki remained on top of the creature for a moment longer, her breaths ragged and heavy as she waited for any sign of movement. The cavern was silent save for the echo of her breathing and the distant dripping of water. Slowly she lifted the escrima stick, her hand trembling as the adrenaline that had fueled her began to ebb away. Up close, the creature only seemed more disturbing. Its fingers were unnervingly long, each ending in a sharp, almost metallic point, and they glistened in the faint light.

Ricki wiped the sweat from her brow, her skin sticky and clammy from the fight. This place felt like it was closing in on her, the air thick and heavy. She needed to keep moving. If this one had found her, others would follow soon enough.

Ricki stepped over the lifeless creature, her stomach twisting at the unnatural bend of its limbs, and retrieved her other escrima stick before pressing forward, one hand on the cave wall to guide her. The corridor narrowed into a cramped tunnel, barely tall enough for Ricki to stand upright. She pushed herself forward, half stumbling, until the narrow tunnel opened into a vast cavern. She stopped short, her breath catching in her throat.

The room stretched endlessly before her, the floor littered with a scattered mosaic of what could only be the skeletal remains of hundreds, maybe thousands of bodies. She stepped forward carefully, her boots crunching over bone fragments, the sound unnervingly loud in the otherwise still air. The cavern felt colder here and Ricki shivered, rubbing her arms as she took in the scope of the scene. To her right, a gaping chasm revealed a giant incinerator at the bottom, faint embers still glowing faintly, the faint scent of burnt flesh lingering despite the years that must have passed since it had last been used.

"What the hell happened here?" Ricki muttered, bending to inspect the remnants of clothing. There wasn't much left but she could make out the designer tag of a fashion line that hadn't produced a new item since 1911.

Ricki's eyes narrowed as she scanned the cavern, her mind racing. It wasn't just a mass grave - it was a mass execution site. The incinerator likely held hundreds more victims, nothing but ash now. The thought made her faintly ill.

"Oracle, I hope you're seeing this," Ricki said, scanning the area thoroughly with the camera in her mask as she searched for a way out.

Far across the cavern, Ricki finally spotted what looked like a ladder, though it was rusted and worn, clearly having seen better days. It led up to what might have been a door, partially obscured by shadows and webbing. Her heart skipped a beat. An exit.

"Just a little further," she murmured to herself, using the mantra to keep her legs moving as she trudged forward. The chill in the air made her shiver, and the exhaustion from the fight with the creature gnawed at her muscles, but she refused to stop now.

As she approached the base of the ladder, Ricki hesitated, inspecting the structure. It was bolted into the rock wall, but the rust had eaten away at most of the bolts, leaving it precarious. She clenched her jaw, knowing she didn’t have the luxury of time. Behind her, the soft, echoing scrape of claws against stone reminded her that the creature she had fought wasn't alone.

"One step at a time," she whispered, gripping the cold metal with both hands. It flaked beneath her fingers, and she could feel the rungs groan under her weight as she began to climb. Each movement was careful, deliberate, and she kept her gaze fixed upward, refusing to look down into the darkness below.

Halfway up, the ladder shifted with a metallic screech and Ricki froze, pressing herself against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. She held her breath, every muscle tense as she waited for the inevitable collapse, but the ladder held - barely.

"Come on, come on," she muttered through gritted teeth and resumed her climb. It felt like an eternity before her hand reached the top, her fingers brushing against the rough, cold stone floor of what she hoped was the exit. With a final heave, she pulled herself up, collapsing onto the marble surface, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for breath.

The air was different here - stale but not as oppressive as the cave below. As she lay there, catching her breath, she took in her surroundings.

The room was small, circular, and empty save for a large bronze owl statue slightly off to the side, the center of the room little more than a hole that she suspected closed at one time like a trap door. Three small doorways surrounded the room however, it seemed two of them had been blocked off.

Ricki pushed herself to her feet, muscles groaning in protest. "Alright, let's see what's behind door number 3."

Ricki's steps were slow and deliberate as she moved toward the one open doorway, the soft echo of her boots against the marble floor the only sound in the eerie silence. Her senses were on high alert, every nerve humming with the possibility of danger as she stepped over the threshold and into what could only be described as a grand hallway.

Dim light filtered in through cracked windows, illuminating intricate carvings of owls that lined the walls, their eyes following her as she moved. The corridor was lined with faded paintings depicting scenes of figures in the same porcelain masks she'd seen on her captors - some kind of ritual or ceremony, she guessed. It gave the space an almost church-like feel, though the atmosphere was anything but holy.

The following room was massive and though it had fallen into disuse, there were still hints of the wealth that had gone into its construction. More marble floors stretched in front of her, dusty but uncracked, and towering bookshelves lined the walls, reaching up to a domed ceiling that disappeared into darkness. Ricki's eyes roved over the space, taking in the grandiose fireplace on one side and the elegant furniture and grand piano on the other.

She approached the fireplace, her footsteps echoing against the marble. The stone mantel was chipped but there were still clear ornate carvings of owls perched along the edges, their eyes watching her with unsettling intensity. Ricki ran her fingers over the carvings, noting how the grooves were smooth from wear, likely touched by countless others over the years.

Barty's voice crackled into her comms so suddenly she jumped, still on high alert for more of those creatures.

"Ni---w-ng? ---- signal is-"

Ricki froze for a moment, pressing a hand to her comms. "Oracle, you're cutting out. Say again?"

"Are --- safe?" The comms buzzed loudly, cutting out anything else Barty said until, "tracking your ----tion. St-- there."

Ricki sighed in relief, though her heart still raced. She wasn't alone anymore; Barty was monitoring her progress and that reassurance gave her the strength to push forward. Her eyes shifted back to the room as she moved past the fireplace and toward the shelves. It was clear whoever had inhabited this place had an obsession with owls - and it was unsettling how much thought had been put into even the smallest of details. She let her fingers glide over the spines of the dusty books, all bearing the same emblem of the owl’s face stamped into the leather.

"Bit flashy if you ask me," Ricki commented, feeling much lighter somehow now that she had Barty on comms. It was familiar and something she hadn't realized she'd missed.

Barty's voice rattled through the comms again though not a syllable was coherent.

"Say again?" Ricki asked, pressing a hand to her comms again as though that could fix it. Moments later, Barty's voice was finally clear.

"You're in The Powers Club. In Gotham."

Ricki froze at Barty's words. The Powers Club? How the hell had she ended up there?

"That's not possible," she muttered, running her fingers through her hair, catching a few stray curls that had worked their way free from her ponytail during the struggle. "There's no way there's a tunnel that stretches from Gotham to fucking Blüdhaven. We'd know about it, B knows the caves better than her own name."

"Maybe you weren't taken there directly," Barty suggested, his voice clearer now but still tinged with static. "You've been out of commission for hours, Ricki."

"Hours?" Ricki echoed. "How many?"

"Six," Barty's voice crackled through the comms, sending a chill down Ricki's spine. "We lost your signal in Lin's apartment. I've been trying to trace you ever since."

"Six hours..." Ricki muttered under her breath, her mind racing. That was enough time to drag her all over Gotham and Blüdhaven if they were efficient. She cast one more glance around the library, the dim light from the cracked windows barely illuminating the rows of dusty shelves and peeling wallpaper.

"Stay put," Barty instructed, the urgency in his tone clear. "I'm sending backup."

"Oracle, I swear if you-" Ricki started but Barty interrupted her.

"Batwoman's already on her way. Stay there."

"Oh, fuck off."