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familyvideostevie · 10 months ago

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you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?"

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell.

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says. "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain.

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on.

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch."

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #just and just as

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mullet-mother · 6 months ago

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Eaten, Stuffed, or Mounted?

My first oneshot - ever

TW: Smut below the cut, MINORS DNI

I have a fun tidbit of information for you.

Did you know that when you crash your car the radio doesn’t stop playing?I was made aware of that lovely fun fact after swerving to avoid that damn deer.

I finally got my ass out of the house for the first time in months after persistent pestering and coaching from my friends to go to their New Years party. I wouldn’t say I was excited, but I was trying to be—hence the obnoxiously loud music blasting through my car’s speakers. I shouldn’t have taken that curve so fast—the visibility was absolute garbage with the snow. The animal jumped out so quickly; I reacted instinctively, and the black ice spun my wheels when I tried to avoid flattening the buck, sending me careening into the trees on the embankment. As I said before, the radio doesn’t stop playing when you crash. I hadn’t considered that my death would consist of me bleeding to death by myself on the side of the road with the speakers blaring ‘Party Rock Anthem’.

What a ridiculous celestial discharge.

When I opened my eyes, I was most certainly not in Kansas anymore. My eyes and nose were not prepared for the onslaught of stimulus they received. It was so, so red. The smell of rust and sulfur stung my nose and eyes. The sounds of screaming also did not help the overwhelming feeling of dread I started to experience.

While I wasn’t particularly shocked that I ended up in hell, this was also not what I had expected. So many religions have their own versions, most commonly the lake of fire and brimstone. I was not expecting the burning city, dead bodies littering the streets, porn on every billboard, and the twisted and exotic forms of the…residents. It felt like I had entered the most twisted version of ‘Grand Theft Auto’ that someone could have conceived.

It took only seconds for me to snap out of my shock, when I heard a shout in my direction. I scrambled to my feet and cursed, realizing I was in the insufferable heels and dress I decided to wear for the party. This also made me acutely aware of the difference in my body, but at the time I didn’t have the mental capacity to absorb what had changed, but the heels I wore made the hooves I now had nye-impossible to stand. A large bear of a man—quite literally��was approaching me with a grin that made my hair stand on end.

“Going somewhere all dressed up like that by yourself? Or are you just out to get fucked and your cute little tail pulled?” His disgusting maw was drooling and it had nearly made me gag.

It was made apparent that even in death I had no sense of self preservation.

“Go fuck yourself, you rip-off build-a-bear fuck stain!”

It had slipped out of my mouth faster than I could react, and our big furry friend was not pleased.

The growls that left his chest and the elongating teeth were not comforting. “You. Fucking. Cunt. I wanted to fuck you, but now I’ve got something else in mind.” His mouth seemed to grow wider, but it was the change in smile on his face that made me bolt so fast I nearly got whiplash as I kicked my way out of those god-awful heels.

I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast before, my hair whipped by my face, my legs burned, and the acrid air stung my lungs with each breath I gulped into my body. I heard him behind me, snarling, screams of other demons, and curses as he barreled them over in his pursuit. I leapt over bodies and pools of blood; I couldn’t remember ever having the ability to run like that. In hindsight, deer can be fucking quick. I could feel him getting closer and made a sharp turn around a corner in hopes to lose him.

I landed face first into what felt like a designer pillow. I looked up slowly as a pair of slender arms grabbed my waist to steady me. Mismatched eyes looked down at me with a face of shock, which promptly shifted to confused. I gaped up at the demon in surprise. His confusion shifted to a dazzling smile with a shiny gold tooth. He tried to speak but was quickly interrupted.

“Y’know I usually charg-”

“Please help me; I’m being chased; he’s going to kill me; please help me!”

The tears began to stream down my face before I could stop them, and I began to violently shake. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to even absorb my current situation, but I threw every ounce of trust into the stranger that had caught me.

The demon’s eyes hardened and the smile dropped to a grimace. His arms tightened around my waist, and he quickly ushered me into a limo waiting down the sidewalk.

He sat me down next to him and turned to look at me. The dazzling smile that he had before returned to his face. He slung his arm around me and pulled me right back up to the fluff on his chest.

“ Nice to meetcha; I’m Angel.”

Angel brought me to the hotel with him, but it was Charlie who insisted that I stay. While I wasn’t necessarily interested in redemption, Charlie was kind, and well…free rent. I was quickly introduced to the rest of the hotel, and became integrated rather quickly. I tried to help where I could, and soon joined the flow of cleaning, cooking, and helping to maintain the state of the hotel. I felt comfortable with the seemingly found family, including a certain Strawberry Pimp.

It was a shock after settling into my body with its new modifications. That fucking deer gave me a lovely parting gift on top of sending me into that tree. While my tattoos were still in their rightful place, the rest of my skin had faded to an off white, almost grey. Hazel eyes shifted to a black sclera and lavender iris. I gained soft ears and an unruly tail spotted with the same rainbow highlighting my black hair. The hooves were definitely an adjustment, no more pedicures for me unfortunately.

That was six months ago.

Angel became my best friend within hours, we began spending our nights watching TV dramas and bothering Husk at the bar. He also started to pick up on my attraction for the buck in the hotel. I couldn’t deny my interest, but I most certainly pretended to unless it was in the confines of Angel’s room at 4 AM after copious amounts of alcohol. But that’s all it was, attraction.

Alastor and I started out with a friendly disposition; we weren’t friends per-se but we bantered and laughed at ridiculous jokes when in the same company.

That devolved into sarcastic quips and jabs, hiding coffee cups, and constantly trying to get a rise out of each other.

It started when he refused to change the radio station. While I enjoy jazz and the classics as much as anyone—I need variety. “Alastor, please. I have asked you THRICE now—and very nicely I might add—to change the station to something else.”

He continued to ignore me and hum along to the song currently playing and it was starting to really, piss me off.

“Peepaw, I understand that you’re always reliving your ‘golden years—I get it! But if I have to listen to one more grainy, barely audible man groan about how he’s lonely, I might lose my mind.”

“My dear, I understand your lack of appreciation for culture and class, but I will not be changing this station. End of discussion.”

The fucker had the audacity to smirk at me.

“Class? I’ll show you class, you audacious, virgin, fuckboy!”

The radio began to whirl with the changing of stations, moving back and forth—glowing the same purple as my eyes. Then suddenly it stopped, and the most obscene music I could possibly think of began to blare from the radio. A classic - CPR by CupcakKE;

Want your dick soaked? Place it down my throat

Tongue tickle yo' dick but not telling a joke

Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat

It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking Periscope

“What in the fresh hell is that?”

The disgust on his face was absolutely priceless. He demanded that I turn it off, change it. He tried to switch it back himself, but I very clearly said;

“My dear, I understand your lack of appreciation for culture and class, but I will not be changing this station. End of discussion.”

I then began changing the station whenever I damn well pleased. He got one request to change it and if he fought me on it I would put on my most devious hits, all outrageously filthy. This turned our little friendship to a sparring match.

Husker thus named me the resident ‘shit-disturber’, and ‘almost worse than him’. Both him and Vaggie were absolutely convinced I had a death wish.

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I just loved seeing his ears flatten out and his smile strain. During my inquiry into whether or not he bleats after the discovery that I have my own (albeit embarrassing) squeak, I thought his head was going to pop off with the crack from his neck. The radio-static was so loud I had to cover my ears—and it was so satisfying.

Angel teased me relentlessly and told me he ‘can’t stand the sexual tension’, which I denied vehemently, as much as I might have wished there was. While he and I constantly teased each other he was always a gentleman regardless. I also found the tall, dark, and creepy vibe rather sexy, but I’d settle for imagining that there’s sexual tension and pushing his buttons.

Which is exactly what I’m going to do today during breakfast.

As I come down into the dining area everyone is conversing amicably, Alastor looks content, casually sipping his coffee at the head of the table. Unfortunately for him, I had the most delightful thought last night, and I have been impatiently waiting to make it known to the group.

I quietly go to the kitchen and make my iced coffee; the excitement building in my chest. As I go to sit down I can feel the smile on my face spreading even wider.

“Good Morning Everyone!” They all turn their attention in my direction and the strangeness of my enthusiasm. I am usually…unpleasant if I’m out of bed before 10 AM, but I don’t believe anything could ruin my mood today; I could barely sleep with the anticipation of what’s about to transpire.

Alastor looks over his mug in my direction and it’s clear that he is suspicious of my jovial mood—and he should be.

“Alastor! As I was falling asleep last night I was thinking about Vox.”He inhales a sharp breath, and a new rush of excitement wiggles its way up my spine. “ His silly bit about you being venison or cooking you? I just think it’s ridiculous! You’re far too lean.”

Husk sits across from me with a look of abject horror on his face, and I can only continue with unbridled glee.“I mean, can you imagine? Deer are already gamey—with your figure, it would be far too tough to eat!”

The sound of his grip tightening on his cup and the beginnings of crackles in the air only furthers my resolve.

He responds with clenched teeth and a static filled voice. “Is that so, little doe?”

I nod my head with a determined look on my face - seriousness overcoming my smile. “In my humble opinion yes; I think it would be better to mount you on the wall instead. I’m personally a huge fan of taxidermy.”

Alastor is barely containing his rage at this point when he asks me;

“Maybe we should eat you instead, you’re obviously the better choice on the menu with your proportions, or would you rather be stuffed and mounted on the wall instead, hm?”

I paint an innocent smile on my face and finish the rest of my coffee out of my cup, making sure to slurp as obnoxiously as I can. I smack my lips and stand up from the table.

“Alastor, I want you to take one good look at this fat ass and tell me if it looks like I give a fuck whether I’m eaten or stuffed.”

For a moment there is only silence,

A quick look around continues to feed my giddiness. There are looks of horror on Charlie and Husk’s faces; Angel and Vaggie trying desperately not to choke; finally my gaze falls on the man of the hour.

I don’t know if I have ever made him so incredibly mad. His face is red, teeth clenched, smile stretched to its limits. His antlers are slowly growing larger, eyes flickering to radio dials, his body getting larger. The sound of radio static and crackling is nearing uncomfortable levels.

“Thanks for the lovely breakfast everyone! See you later for group activities.”

As I walk away, I can hear the sound of a mug shattering. On the way back to my room, I am nearly vibrating. The satisfaction of getting such a visceral reaction from both Alastor and the rest of the group was exquisite. ‘Resident shit disturber’ indeed. I’m not naive enough to believe I won’t face extreme retaliation, but I’m ninety percent sure he won’t kill me.

The rest of the day goes as usual, and I see very little of Alastor. While I’m still riding the high of this morning, I begin to get nervous. He doesn’t attend any group activities, and while that isn’t too far from the norm, it still has my nerves on edge. By the end of the day I’m ready to crawl into bed, get off, and sleep until noon.

I make it back to my room and slip inside when I hear the door lock behind me and the shadows in the room rising.

I am so, so fucked.

A squeak leaves my mouth when I feel myself dropping into what feels like nothing before landing roughly onto a carpeted floor. I lift my head and see a fireplace, small table, and the open expanse of what appears to be a bayou. The overwhelming feeling of both dread and excitement shoots through my body as I realize exactly where I am.

I attempt to get up to my feet, but am forced to stay on my knees by the large clawed hands squeezing my shoulders. Alastor is bent at the waist; he’s larger than normal, with a strained smile and antlers out; his clear red eyes are the only clue to his dwindling self control. He puts his face directly in front of mine and my skin prickles from the static.

“Hello little doe, are you pleased with your lovely little performance at breakfast?”

“Were you not? I thought it was excellent.”

“Why are you so intent on being a vexing little Brat?” He loses his static the moment he says ‘brat’. A clear voice filled with true frustration.

The sound of his voice causes my cunt to slick and my body heat to rise. My cheeks flush in embarrassment, and for once in my life, I have no response. I just continue to stare into the glowing red eyes that are searching mine for some semblance of an answer. Maybe Angel was right and it was sexual tension?

His right hand comes to wrap around my throat; his left finds my hip as he guides me up off of the floor. I’m now standing in front of him, having to crane my neck to look up into his eyes, his size dwarfing mine. I can feel my breathing getting heavier and my slick soaking through the fabric of my panties.

“Tell me, What would you prefer? Being stuffed, eaten, or mounted on the wall?” His eyes narrow as he squeezes the hand around my throat, and my mouth goes dry. I try to think of a proper response, but my brain is fogged with his eyes, his cologne, and the heat consuming every inch of my body.

All I can do is close my eyes, whimper and lean into the hand around my throat. I feel him squeeze, and I know he’s demanding an answer. I look up at him, and I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes; I can feel my heart pounding in my chest in anticipation.

“Anything Al; whatever you want.”

I feel a tongue slide up my cheek; he groans deeply, and I can feel his claws digging into my hip. His lips hover over mine and I move to close the distance but his hands stop me. He moves his hands to my cheeks and squeezes them together, my mouth popping open.

“Open your eyes, doe; look at me. You will get whatever I deem to give you. You will not cum unless I say so, you will beg for release and will not get it until I deem you worthy of such pleasures after your abhorrent behavior. Are we clear, Brat?”

I let out a soft moan as a response.

His smile widens and a soft phrase leaves his lips that turns me to mush. “Good girl.”

Another fall into nothingness, and my back is on soft sheets, any clothing I had gone. He’s standing at the end of the bed, studying my naked body and I’m suddenly shy being so exposed. I move to cover myself when I see the thick black

Tentacles surge from behind him to grab and trap my arms and legs. My arms are pulled above my head, my knees bent, and legs spread. The hungry look on his face has me blushing and closing my eyes, which fly back open when I feel his long wet tongue slip through my folds. It pulls a high pitched moan from my throat and a groan from him.

“Maybe I should just eat you, little brat, keep you tied to this bed just for me.”

He continues to slowly lick and suck on my clit, just enough to bring me close to the edge, only to switch techniques and rip me away from it again, fucking me with his tongue, swirling it around my clit slowly, flat tongued laps through my folds. Tears prick at the edge of my eyes before I start begging.

“Al, Al, please; I can’t take it anymore; please let me cum. I need it; please, I’m begging you!”

He just continues with a torturous pace and keeps his smile in place.

“Fuck me; stuff me; I don’t care, please! I need to cum; I need it, please!”

He stops and brings his face to mine, a smirk there, his lips shining. “I want a nice, sincere apology from you, Brat. For your atrocious performance and disrespect today.”

“I’m so, so sorry Al; I promise I won’t ever do it again; I’ll be so good for you. Please let me cum; please fuck me; I’ll be good!”

As soon as I finish, his lips are on mine; they’re soft and bruising. This kiss is tongue and teeth and months of repressed sexual desires. My hands are suddenly released, and I’m instantly ripping at his shirt and pants. My hands can’t move fast enough. My mind is spinning, and my body is aching with need.

I finally feel his length hot and heavy on my cunt; it slides easily through my soaking folds and we both moan at the contact. He opens his eyes and looks into mine, always the gentleman. “I need to hear a yes, darling,” he moves his mouth down to my neck; I can feel his teeth gently scraping against my skin.

The softness of the question makes my heart swell in my chest, “Please, yes, Al; I need you.”

With one rough thrust, he stretches and fills me, his hips flush against mine. I’m so unbelievably full, his tip pressing and pushing against my cervix. He slowly pulls out, dragging his cock against my oversensitive walls before roughly thrusting back inside. I can feel myself gushing around him with each rough thrust in, soaking my and his thighs.

I’m babbling and crying out his name over and over. Begging him for more.“Please make me cum, Alastor; I want to cum all over your cock; I want to feel you cum inside me; I’m begging you!” My eyes are glassy and staring into his own.

He picks up his speed, ramming himself in and out of me roughly. He brings a claw down to press and circle my clit, then gently kisses my lips and whispers into my ear, “You’ve been so patient, little doe; such a good girl. Cum for me.”

One hard thrust, and a scream is ripping through my throat as hot thrumming pleasure surges through my body; I can feel my heartbeat in every cell of my body. Before I have time to recover, he continues his brutal pace, “One more, darling. I need you to give me one more.”

“I can’t; it’s too much I can’t!”

“You can; cum with me. I need to feel you milking my cock.”

He tilts my hips, and the position has him hitting that spot inside me over and over again. I can feel the tingling heat starting to grow in my abdomen once more. I tell him I’m getting close, and he doubles his efforts. Sweat drips down his forehead; I can feel his cock getting hotter inside me. He grabs my knees and pushes them to my chest, bending me in half. The position sends his cock even deeper inside me.

I’m screaming his name, no doubt the entire hotel hearing my cries of absolute bliss. His thumb returns to my clit and presses down firmly, rubbing those perfect circles. With his mouth by my shoulder, he commands me again,“Cum with me, now.”The moment I feel him spilling his hot seed inside me and his teeth in my shoulder, another orgasm sends electric waves through my body.

I slowly come back down and open my eyes; he’s back to his regular self, seemingly relaxed.

“Hey Alastor, I have a question.”

“And what is that, little doe?”

-“Do I just have to get you really pissed and you’ll fuck me like that again?”

Thank you so much to the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes for editing for me! You're amazing!

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor x you #tentacles #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut

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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 15 days ago

Note

HIIII do you have anymore tid bits for you au.... (share all of them. go ham. I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

So many. SO MANY!!

— After Ford gets his body back, Bill makes excuses to himself to watch over Dipper and Mabel when they’re dreaming, and interjects if they have any nightmares. This is definitely important to his evil plans, okay.

— McGucket definitely knows something is wrong with Stanfraud, and makes a scene whenever he sees him, claiming him to be the ‘devil in disguise’, or ‘the beast with one eye’. When Dipper and Mabel ask about it, Bill brushes it off as McGucket’s memory loss making him recall their fallout as worse than it was.

— Bill was roped into helping Stan teach Soos boxing when he was younger. He thought it was stupid at the time, but Stan wasn’t taking no for an answer. Soos still appreciates both of them for it, and Bill doesn’t mind the kid as much anymore. He’s smarter than he looks. He just has to put his mind to it.

— Bill actually likes stargazing. Stan’s surprised when he first catches Bill on the roof doing it, and Bill gets defensive when Stan pushes him on the matter, but he doesn’t exactly hate the company. When he’s left alone with his thoughts and the stars, his mind goes to a place that’s too dark, even for him. So, sometimes he and Stan will grab a drink — usually beer for Stan and some barely drinkable cocktails for Bill — and they’ll watch the stars. When Mabel finds out about it, she joins him. It’s one of the few places that he seems a lot… calmer. Not by a lot, mind you, but it’s noticeable enough for Bill.

— During Headhunters, there’s a lot of conflict between Stan and Bill. Bill thinks it’s weird how Stan is treating the wax figure, that just because he can’t pretend Bill is Ford, doesn’t mean he has to go speaking to a lump of wax. He has a lot of uncomfortable feelings surrounding Ford as is, ones he prefers to bury deep in the back of his mind, and this whole funeral deal, Stan’s genuine grief, it’s really putting a damper on his mood. Plus, he may be a little bit jealous. And maybe, just maybe, a bit concerned. I don’t have the details figured out yet, but I know for a fact they get into an argument over it, and the subject of Ford comes up again — no more avoiding it.

— Stan and Bill are banned from one of the town’s main bars for life. Why? That’s between them and the raccoon.

— I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but Bill actually dyed his, or, well, Ford’s hair brown, though he’s pretty bad at keeping on top of that so the grey roots tend to be showing.

— Dipper Vs Manliness actually has a small bonding moment between Bill and Dipper, where Bill essentially deconstructs gender and also tries to boost Dipper’s confidence, in his own Bill way.

He’s a strangely good influence in general when it comes to masculinity and gender and what not, being as he doesn’t conform to any human expectation. And he would absolutely sing Disco Girl with Dipper too. He loves that song, bitter memories be damned. Why would he let Sixer kill his groove.

And I shall leave it at that for now! If you’d like anymore tidbits I’m always keeping a thousand up my sleeves! And if you’d like any about specific characters, let me know!

#asks #gravity falls #gravity falls au #not who he seems au #bill cipher #stanley pines #dipper pines #mason pines #mabel pines

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sgiandubh · 26 days ago

Text

ACTing

Remember (LOL) my recent Anon who was not satisfied with my answer about facial micro expressions and body language (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/765196301412532224/hi-sgiandubh-happy-weekend-have-you-seen-the?source=share)?

I so wish I had this gif at the ready to illustrate exactly what I meant, then:

As much as I am not exactly fond of endlessly spinning old tidbits (simply because I happen to think this is probably the most interesting time to be here), someone please explain how could one human being control the frowning thing. This is all about released tension, love, lust, anticipation and victory. At the same time.

Method acting? Oh, funny how many of those women clinging to this partial argument probably have no damn idea about who Stanislavski was!

But this has got zero to do with method acting. This is all about someone's deep emotions permeating the screen. Something that brought all of us here, even if some think denying it makes them look more intelligent than the rest.

#fandom #shitshow

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trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

Text

with me + part fourteen

authors note: this one is loaded, and there are some hints/tidbits spread throughout, but also.....please don't hate me. 😭

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 12k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

Bianca: Hi. I know you asked for space, and I will respect that. I just want you to know I talked to dad. I made him be honest with me, and I know the truth now. I completely understand if your decision is that you want nothing to do with me. But please know, I had no idea, and I would love the chance to be in your life. I am not our father.

Bianca: It may have started with him, but it can end with us.

Rereading the text for what must be the 18th time, you feel just as conflicted and confused as you were when you first received it a few days prior. It’s been a bit easy to ignore it, to let it sit unanswered as you focused on getting as much work done as you could before leaving for Vegas.

Thankfully, as the game is on a Sunday, you, Callie, and Alexis got an early morning flight to Vegas where you were met by Joe at the airport. After Callie had her sweet meltdown at seeing Joe again, the three of ya’ll met up with the twins, Trin, Kaylah, Jon’s wife, and the rest of the kids at the hotel.

You were a little nervous about Callie meeting her other cousins, as you know kids don’t always get along right away. But all anxiety is melted away the minute Callie and Jon’s daughter, Ellie, bonded over a common love of Disney. It’s a wrap from there, so much so that Callie feels comfortable enough to be left with them while you and Joe leave to get your tattoos.

Your current location.

“Let's play a game.”

Joe’s suggestion is greatly appreciated because it pulls you away from hyper-fixating on this text and just what to do with said text. However, it’s also questioned because what the hell kind of games do people play at ya’ll’s big ages?

“Joe, we are too damn old for games—but what is it?”

He laughs at your quick change of tune. He must know that inner competitiveness never really goes away, even if you haven’t been in that competition space in literal years. “I'm gonna show you a house, and all you have to say is either you like it or not. But, you can't ask any questions.”

“A house? Like an actual house?”

“Yes, baby. An actual house.”

His sarcastic tone doesn’t help. Asshole. “And I can’t ask you any questions about a literal house we’re thinking of buying?”

“Yup.”

Pouting, you murmur, “This game sucks.”

“Okay, Callie.” He messes around on his phone, giving a couple touches before he hands you his phone.

You nearly drop the damn thing, mouth ajar in awe. “Joe, how much—”

“No questions, remember?”

Sucking your teeth, you continue to scroll, each photo evoking another level of wonder. The house is stunning and huge. A literal mansion with landscape and design that looks like it was ripped right out of a luxury HGTV special. Swiping through the photos, each allow you to see that the beauty is not only matched but in many ways exceeded on the inside. A massive kitchen with two ovens, spacious bedrooms, almost equally large bathrooms, movie theater room, a separate building in the humongous backyard that you could easily see Joe turning into a personal gym, and so much more.

You really focus on the outside photos, eyes softening. “She's always wanted a backyard….” It's so easy for you to imagine Callie running around freely, swinging on a swing, maybe even helping you tend to a garden you see more than enough room to plant.

You can see yourself in this house.

“I like it,” you finally answer. There's no need to lie to him, and you're pretty sure he could tell you love it based on your facial expressions alone. “Now can you tell me how much—”

“Nope.”

Sitting up, you shove on his shoulder. “Come on, that's not fair.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Leati.” You can't remember the last time you called this man by his first name. Years, most likely. You used it sparingly, far and few in between, mostly reserved for moments like this when he was pissing you off.

“You can complain all you want. I'm not telling you shit.” That only irks you more, and he’s indifferent to your obvious irritation, which pisses you off even more. If anything, he sounds almost amused at your frustration. “I'm gonna ask the realtor to arrange a tour. You can ask her then.”

Suspicious, you accuse, “your ass will probably tell her not to tell me or to lie.”

“Maybe.”

It’s the fact that you know that’s something he would do too. “So my name wouldn’t be on the house? Is that what you’re saying?”

At that, he looks your way, clearly confused but mostly offended. “Of course, it would. Your name will be on everything. I just can’t give you too much information now because you’ll push back and say it’s too much.”

“So, it is expensive,” you conclude. He sighs, heavily. “Joe, we don’t need anything too extravagant or over the top. You know I’m not materialistic like that. I don’t want you feeling like you have to—”

“How many times do we have to have this conversation?” There’s a hint of irritation in his tone, but it’s not entirely unwarranted. Joe has told and showed you multiple times that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you and Callie. It’s just you being…..well, you. “Anything I do for you, anything I do for Callie is because I want to. You should know by now that I’m a man who won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Sitting on his words, you answer, “I know.” And you do, you’re just so damn slow in actually accepting this. “I’m sorry, I just—I’m stubborn. You know this.”

“Yeah, well get un-stubborn.” His hand on your thigh gives a teasing squeeze but before you can inquire about just what kind of alone time you two will have over this weekend, a man walks out, heavily tatted, dressed in semi traditional Samoan attire and wearing a friendly smile.

Joe stands up to greet the man, introducing him as Mike. It’s a name you’re familiar with as you recall eons ago when Joe would rave about his tattoo artist and the man’s insane talent.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It’s both strange and welcomed hearing Joe introduce you as such, like it’s almost too good to be true, even if there’s not an ounce of reluctance in his voice.

“Nice to meet you,” you greet, accepting his handshake. “And for getting us in on short notice.”

He waves it off. “Joe’s always welcomed here anytime and as his girlfriend, so are you.”

It stands out to you just how many people speak so highly of Joe. You've always thought he was a genuinely nice guy, but hearing it co-signed by others definitely shows what a gem you’ve got. “Great design choice, by the way,” he compliments, directing his next question toward you. “Joe mentioned you were a bit nervous about the placement….”

“I think I’m good now,” you answer. Tattoo pain is temporary, but placement is forever. You especially don’t want to “settle” for something that has so much meaning. “Same placement as his, but he can go first.”

Mike laughs, clapping his hands together. “Sounds great. Let’s get started.”

________

You’d completely forgotten how extremely frustrating it is to get ready to go clubbing, and understandably so given at your big age, that’s not really a thing. However, Alexis absolutely refused to accept your decline to go out with her and even convinced Trinity and Kaylah to tag along.

The bitch even took it upon herself to bring an outfit for you, knowing you definitely didn’t pack for this kind of outing.

And while the dress is definitely fire, it’s a pain to get on given the cutouts and need to clasp the chest part. Not to mention, your arm is still a bit sore from the tattoo. Granted, Callie’s excitement at seeing how both you and Joe got her name tatted on you was more than worth all the pain.

This dress though….it’s not worth shit.

“Fuck.” This was so much easier two bra sizes ago, but between trying to hold them together and clasp the hook on the dress, you’re just about ready to call it a night before the night can even truly begin. Settling frustration aside, you grab the robe off the counter and slide it on as you stick your head out the door. “Babe?”

His deep voice replies seconds later. “Yeah?”

“Can you come help me with something real quick?”

“Mommy,” Callie groans, and you can only imagine the scowl on her face. She loves spending time with her daddy. “We’re playing.”

Your lips curve into a smile, assuring her, “it’ll only take a second, baby.”

Joe walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“I need you to clasp my dress for me,” you explain, removing the robe and holding your breast with your forearm. “I’m gonna hold them up, and I just need you to—what?”

His eyes slowly travel up and down your body, but his overall gaze reeks of confusion and a level of disapproval. “Where’s the rest of it?”

You’re not stupid, very much aware of what he’s asking. But, you’re also stubborn, a fact he’s well aware of given the fact that you talked about just that this morning. “The rest of what?”

His answer is simple. “Your outfit.”

Muscle twitching in your jaw, you attempt to divert the conversation. “Come on, everyone else is almost ready—“

“I’m serious.”

Huffing, you slap on that sweet, teacher voice and bring your hands to his chest, allowing your breast to fall open and freely. It doesn’t miss you how his gaze moves downward and lingers. “Joe, I love you, but you met me post-college. Trust me, this is tame compared to what I used to wear clubbing. And we both know I’m gonna wear what I want, regardless, so I just need you to swallow that annoying ass male pride, which I know you will, because you love me enough to do so, and just strap my titties down for me, okay?” Leaning up to kiss his cheek, your finger moves in a figure eight down his body. “Besides, when I get back tonight, you get to rip this same dress off me, bend me over this very same counter right next to us, and make me watch as you fuck me, hard, from behind.”

Your sex drive has always been on the higher end, but it’s been even more intense in the past couple days, and while your last few intimate encounters with Joe have been more loving and sweet…..that’s not what you need right now.

You need this man to fuck you in the way only he can. Choking, spanking, biting, a tad bit of degrading, hips bruised from how tight he holds you with backshots that have you speaking in a different language. The whole nine yards.

Your words paint such a vivid picture that’s clearly too far out for his comfort as his hands move to your ass, squeezing roughly. “And what’s stopping me from doing just that right now?”

God has a cruel sense of humor because before you can even fix your mouth to respond, the very reason why makes her presence known. She knocks on the door with all the irritation in her little body. “Daddy, are you almost done?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief as you step back to hold your breast together, you remind him. “that is why not. You’re on daddy duty tonight.” Joe doesn’t say anything and instead finally hooks it for you. “Thank you.”

“At least pull it down in the back or something,” he grumbles and actually tries to pull down the back of the dress.

“Baby, I have an ass. It’s gon’ shift right back up as soon as I move.” Sure enough, one step is all it takes for it to roll up just a few centimeters below your ass. Unlocking and opening the door, you beam at Callie. “He’s all yours, baby girl.”

“You look so pretty, mommy!”

“Thank you, baby.” You lean down for a kiss on her cheek right as Alexis walks in. Callie goes to lead Joe back into the “living room” area as Alexis welcomes herself into the hotel room. You’re not even gonna bother asking how she got a key. Her dress, unlike your all black little piece, is sparkly, short, and strapless. It’s very much Alexis.

She gasps. “Girl, that dress is fitting and your boobs are sitting.”

Winking and lifting your breasts, you laugh, complementing, “you look amazing.”

“Duh. I’m me.” She brushes her shoulders before peeping past you to say hi to Joe and Callie. “Hi, future brother-in-law and part time child.”

All you can hear is Callie asking Joe what a part time child is as Alexis grabs you by your wrist and starts dragging you toward the door. “Come on, Trin wants us to do a TikTok before we leave.”

Instantly, you’re scowling. “A TikTok? Girl, we are too old for that.”

“I swear, you act like you’re 75 sometimes,” she dismisses, walking you out the room and across the hall to the other room where Jimmy and Trin are staying. You’re still impressed how they all managed to get rooms not only on the same floor but literally all across each other.

Must be a rich people thing.

Walking into the room, you see Trin and Kaylah are dressed a bit more modestly then you and Alexis, not as much skin showing but still very much giving club vibes.

Compliments are again exchanged among the four of you, but Kaylah is the first to say, “girl, I’m surprised Joe didn’t have nothing to say about your outfit.”

Chuckling, you inform, “he tried, but he knows I don’t play that. I’m a grown woman. Imma wear what I want. Besides, I know how to shut him up.”

What’s implied doesn’t need to be explained but not according to Alexis who of course blurts out, “that’s right. Sitting on your man’s face will do it every time.”

“Please excuse her. She ran out of her Lithium.”

“Ehh, they tried that. Didn’t work for me.” It’s the fact that she’s probably dead serious too. “Okay, now which trend are we doing, Trin?”

Trinity's smile, like everything else about her, is bright and beautiful. “I was thinking the Wanna Be one by Meg and Glo.”

Instantly, you know Alexis is sold. “That is my damn song.” She then points to you. “This one needs to go last though, because when I tell you that thing moves like water. This bitch can twerk like Megan.”

One thing you’ve never been is a liar, so you can’t find it in you to call bullshit on Alexis exclamation. You’ve always been super flexible, courtesy of cheer, and twerking has always come a bit natural to you. But, it was really when you started hitting up the strip clubs in college and made acquaintances with the strippers that you learned all of the tricks.

However, it’s also been years since you last stepped out on the town, and your joints start to hurt from just sitting too long, so the hype may be a little bit undeserved after all.

“That was also before I had a baby, Lex.”

Alexis brushes off your downplay. “She can even do the hand thing. You know, where you put your hand in between your ass cheeks while you still shaking? Iconic.”

Studying her closely, you realize why she’s so amped already. “You pre-gramed, didn’t you?”

She presses her lips together and then goes into denial. “I plead the fifth.” Laughing, she tugs on your arm. “Come onnnn.”

“Fine.” Caving to Alexis is typically the best outcome because the bitch is relentless when she wants something, especially when she’s already tipsy.

However, Trinity seems just as excited as she directs the three of you to the bathroom where she already has the phone propped up and everything.

It ends up being a fun time that reminds you so much of those days back in college where you and Lex and a few other girlfriends would spend a damn near hour taking the “perfect” photos for the “gram” and even longer to come up with a witty caption. You even show off a little bit of your twerking skills, nothing too crazy, much to Alexis chagrin.

Arriving at the club and being escorted to the VIP section, courtesy of Alexis, the ladies order a round of drinks while you settle for a simple bottle, never glass, of water. After your whole fiasco during Christmas, you can’t see yourself sipping even a glass of wine for a while.

It’s a nice blast from the past but also suddenly a bit irritating with how noisy and boisterous everything is. The club is packed, and you’re grateful to be seated up and away from everyone else. While Alexis starts to get her buzz going, Trin partially surprises you by asking for your approval to upload one of the videos to TikTok and a photo to post on Instagram. It’s only partially surprising, because Trin has always been a real one.

You agree and even helping her with a caption.

Something bout’ that melanin ✨

Pulling out your own phone to check in on Joe and Callie, you’re surprised to see you have a bunch of IG notifications. This leads to you realizing that Alexis, at some point, posted a couple of photos she made you take on your profile. She even took it upon herself to come up with a caption that makes you both chuckle and shake your head.

ya favorite athlete’s favorite athlete 😌

It’s not a huge deal to you, as you’d went ahead and made your Instagram private again a couple months prior. It’s a feature you toggle on and off, knowing that only the people you want knowing and seeing your page would even know how to find you. However, with Joe being back in your life and having a few posts with Callie’s face in them, you lean on the side of caution and just plan to keep it private from here on out.

It’s the comments though that really make you pause.

@user1 omg y/n!!! That body been giving, sis!

@user2 HA! Always was that girl. Still that girl. Miss you, cuz!

@Mariaaahhhh___92: This really how you wanna do this?

@BigLexPurr: Say it louder for the BITCH in the comments before me. I mean, in the back. 😃

@user3: If only I looked like that after having my baby lmao You look amazing, Y/N!

@RomanReigns Damn straight.

With all the swiftness and quickness, you block Mariah, not needing or wanting her and Alexis to get into a whole spat under your post. But Joe’s comment is definitely one that takes you for surprise, and you wrestle with whether or not you should acknowledge it but eventually decide to do so with a simple reply.

@yourusername @RomanReigns 😘

You make a mental note to roast his ass for being in your IG comments like that but put your phone away when WAP comes on. Of course, it’s only appropriate that the four of you rap along to every iconic, spiritual lyric spit by Meg and Cardi. Alexis even influences you into doing a little twerk on her that she absolutely captures on Snapchat.

You don’t even need to ask her to know she’s gonna waste no time in sending that over to Joe. How she managed to get him to accept her add on Snapchat is something you’ll never understand.

“I need some more drink, but I don’t want to get up,” Alexis whines, shooting you the puppy dog eyes.

“Gee, why don’t I—”

“Thank you, friend!”

Shaking your head, you make your way out of the VIP and through the crowd to the bar. Placing the order, you wait patiently, praying that what you know is bound to happen doesn’t happen. A waste of a prayer, because that unwanted happening appears in the form of a crooked smile, bad haircut, and height that can’t exceed 5’9.

He just leans back against the bar, as if waiting for you to, of all things, acknowledge him. That makes you laugh aloud. The fucking irony.

You decide to take the lead and dead this thing before he can run whatever play he thinks will work on you. “No, I don't want or need you to pay for my drink, and I don't need anything put on your tab. I'm good.”

His smile doesn't deter. If anything, he looks even more intrigued. This was always the part you hated about clubbing. Men who can’t seem to conceive that you “playing hard to get” is actually and really just complete and utter disinterest.

“Oh, you more than good, ma.” His gaze resting on your chest much longer than what's appropriate is both irritating but expected. Men see titties and lose all sense of self-control, the little that some actually do possess, that is. “I'm just trying to see how good.”

You were over this conversation before it even started, hence your readiness to put an end to his fruitless hopes and your irritation.

“My man is 6’3, 287lbs and fights niggas for a living.” Tone both bored and casual as you list off basic facts, you ask, “He's home right now watching our 6 kids. Still wanna do this?”

It's the way his eyes go wide that makes it hard for you not to laugh. That should definitely do the trick. “Naw, I'm good. You fine, but you ain't that damn fine.”

“That's what I thought.” Taking the Martini from the bartender, you saunter your way back over to your section and hand it to Alexis.

“I take it homeboy was trying to take you home.”

Chuckling, you nod. “But, I handled it.”

“Oh, I'm sure you did.” She then turns to the group. “This one was always vicious when turning down bums at the club.”

“Cause sir, why are you talking to me with your uneven fade and height that starts with a 5?”

Trinity and Kay fall out laughing, but you’re dead serious. You’d been called arrogant a couple of times, but it never really affected you because you know you just have standards and refuse to settle.

And clearly…..it worked out.

“I really wish we could do this more often,” Kay suddenly shares, and it takes you a bit by surprise. There was a level of trepidation regarding meeting Josh’s wife. You know they’ve been together since they were in high school, which means there’s a good chance she knows Joe’s ex-wife. A chance they could be friends.

And if she’s anything unlike Mariah, she wouldn’t want to chop it up with the woman who slept with and had a whole baby for her friend’s husband. But so far, Kay has been nothing but kind, a bit on the quiet and reserved side. It’s an interesting dynamic considering Josh is anything but.

“Do you live in Florida too?” Alexis suddenly asks, sipping her Martini. When Kay nods, Lex slaps you on the arm. “Well, this one will be moving there probably before the end of summer, so maybe ya’ll can link up more often.”

Intrigue paints both Trin and Kay’s faces, as the former asks, “seriously?”

“Yeah, umm, Joe and I were actually looking at a house earlier.” A thin layer of excitement re-emerges as you reflect on the photos you saw. You really do like that house, but it feels so much like a dream, like the expensive houses you look at and critique on Zillow knowing damn well you can’t afford them.

And you can’t, but he probably can.

You know he can, or he wouldn’t be showing you in the first place.

“How do you really feel about moving?” Trin questions. “You still live in your hometown, right?”

“I do.” It’s a valid question, one you, if you’re being honest, sometimes go back and forth on. You know you want to move and ultimately will, but there are still some moments where you feel a bit unsure. It’s to be given, you’re sure, as change can be difficult. “There’s a lot of things I’ll miss, like being away from my mom, but….I want to be with Joe, and it’s what’s best for Callie.”

“She really is a sweet child. You did an amazing job with her.”

Kay’s compliment warms your heart. “Thank you….that means a lot to me.” Callie is your pride and joy, so to hear others speak highly of her, of how you raised her thus far will always be the best kind of compliment.

“You’re a teacher, so you’re off for the summer, right?” Trinity suddenly asks. Nodding, she continues, “you and Callie should go on the road with Joe this summer then. Maybe not the whole summer, but a portion. It’ll be fun. I’d love to have ya’ll, and you know he would too.”

It’s a suggestion that you find yourself actually considering. Outside of PD, which can be done virtually with some prior arrangements, there really would be nothing stopping you from tagging along. Callie would be ecstatic, and something tells you Joe would too.

Kay then shoots Trinity a look that you can’t quite decipher. “isn’t he….”

As if awareness dawns, Trinity mutters, “oh, shit, I forgot.”

Understandably curious, and always uncomfortable with being kept out of the communication loop, you inquire, “what?”

Trinity looks a bit nervous but then answers casually, “Oh nothing, I just forgot they’ve, uhh, gotten a little strict now about family coming on the road. Something about it being too distracting for the wrestlers.”

Alexis seems as skeptical as you are. There’s something they’re not saying. “Isn’t he literally like the face of the whole company? I feel like if he wants them there, then they’ll be there.” She has a fair point. “Look how he takes time off to come fly and see them.”

That actually brings on a question you’ve been wondering about for a while. Directed to Trinity, you ask, “do you know if he gets in trouble for that?” Trinity looks a bit unsure of how to respond, and you know immediately it’s because she’s trying to figure out how much to say. “The truth, please. I can handle it.”

With a heavy sigh, she relents, “Jon mentioned Joe said something about them talking with him, but I get the sense Joe told them to fuck off. Professionally, of course.”

You’re not sure how to feel about this. The last thing you want is for Joe to risk all of his hard work for you. And you know it’s more for Callie than anything, which you get, but he still has contractual obligations he needs to fulfill.

“I can tell you this…..they can say what they want, but Joe doesn’t play about you and Callie, so he gon keep hopping on flights as much as he needs to.”

“He was really happy when he found out about Callie,” Kay adds in a soft tone with a kind voice. “I remember overhearing him talking with Josh, and he told him, “she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Crying in the club definitely wasn’t on your agenda for this trip, but here you are, trying to blot your eyes with the back of your hand. “Ya’ll, I didn’t wear waterproof mascara. Don’t have me out here looking like a racoon scaring folks off.”

Alexis chimes, “Joe won’t mind. It’ll keep him from coming up in here beating some poor soul’s ass for trying to holler at you.”

Kaylah snorts. “She’s not too far off. All them fools are super protective and territorial.”

“I’m just trying to figure out when ya’ll are gonna stop being selfish and slide one of them my way. It’s obvious they fertile as hell, so there’s gotta be an eligible cousin or uncle or something.”

It’s the fact you know that Lex is dead serious. Thankfully, Travis Porter comes on and that’s enough to bring all of ya’ll back to your feet like you’re 21 all over again. And that’s the dominant and recurring theme of the entire night: dancing, laughing, talking, Alexis being unhinged.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The four of you end up returning to the hotel shortly before midnight, the perfect time as somehow, the guys got all of the kids down for bed and were just waiting to make sure you all returned safely.

Sitting around one of the hotel rooms, you all just chop it up, sharing various stories, no one really tired enough to call it a night.

“See, that’s the thing that people don’t realize. Ain’t a whole lot of difference between Joe and Roman. Uce been had that dog in him.” Jon starts off, sitting up as he explains. Somehow the topic landed on when they were growing up and how Joe’s always had “parts” of Roman in him. “Like one time when we was kids, we was playing a basketball game and he showed up late talking about “aye, let me join.” We tell him, ‘sorry man, we already started.’ He takes the ball, chucks it over in the neighbor's yard, talking about “ain’t nobody playing now.”

There’s a chorus of laughter, but your jaw drops open as you look at Joe, an easy task as you’re perched on his lap. “Did you really do that?” It’s almost inconceivable to see this man do something like that, especially as a child. “Joe, that was mean as hell.”

It’s the fact that he doesn’t deny it and simply shrugs. “Should have let me join in.”

Covering your mouth and shaking your head, you go to scold him for being such an ass, regardless of how long ago it was. But, Alexis soon adds in her two cents, looking your way. “I don’t know why you looking shocked and disappointed, you weren’t much better when we were in college.” She then directs her attention to the group. “So, we were cheerleaders, and Abby Lee Miller over here was a total nightmare during competition season.”

Gasping, you sit up, Joe’s big arm locked around your waist to keep you on him. “I was not.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a drink before admitting, “girl, I love you, but you were a bitch when you were in competition mode.” This is the first time you’re hearing this, so of course, it takes you by surprise. You won’t deny that you could be a bit…..intense during the season, but as captain, there was a shit ton of responsibility on your shoulders. Someone had to take the lead. “There’s a reason we had a whole group chat without you called, ‘Deliver us from Y/N’.”

“You had what?” This is news to you. As far as you were concerned, you had a great relationship with your teammates. It’s why your head coach let you take charge so much, especially in your junior and senior years. “Because I was doing my job?”

Alexis continues, ignoring your questions which is both annoying and predictable. She loves to tell a good story. “She’s the reason I’m hoping and praying Usher doesn’t perform More. It was the song for our Nationals routine, and when I tell you she was on us like goddamn slaves. That routine was hard as fuck, and she ain’t care one bit. It was hella good, like she choreographed the shit out of it, but it was so technical and draining. Bitches in the corner vomiting during practice, and she like ‘get a bucket and keep it pushing.’”

All eyes land on you, waiting for a response, but it’s hard to retort the truth, so you settle on justification. “Okay, that was their fault. I told ya’ll not to eat an hour before.”

Alexis claps her hands as everyone else around laughs. “I rest my case.”

“No wonder ya’ll go together so well,” Josh mutters, taking a drink of his beer. Kaylah slaps his arm but doesn’t say anything in disagreement.

“What I’m hearing is it’s gon be a two night A&E special. First night? Surviving Joe. Second night? Surviving Y/N.”

Jon’s delivery is really what sells it. You can’t even hold back your laughter. Leaning back into Joe’s chest, you lift up both hands to flip them off. “Ya’ll not gon’ keep talking about my man.” Partially joking, partially serious, it’s not missed upon you how Joe’s deep chuckle in your ear is followed by his fingers innocently moving against the outside of your thigh.

“You and your man was clearly out here terrorizing people,” Trinity laughs with a shake of her head. “That’s so crazy too, because you don’t give off that energy, Y/N.”

“I’ve calmed down a lot since I had my daughter.” And it’s the truth. Along with age and an extreme respect for your field along with your professional reputation. “But yeah, college Y/N…..she was something else. A little bit of high school as well, but mostly college.”

Alexis makes a sound and then blurts out, “tell em’ about the time you bust that stripper in the head with a bottle, and she had to get 75 stitches.”

Understandably so, there’s a round of shocked expressions and questions following Alexis so casually dropping one of the wildest experiences you had in college.

You hear Jon ask something about if you have a criminal record, but it’s really Joe giving you that ‘you gon explain?’ look that makes you cave.

“Oh lord, I can’t believe I’m about to tell this story.” You turn to Joe, warning. “You’re not allowed to hold it against me either.”

“Let me hear it first, and I’ll let you know after.” You know he’s joking, but still, you hit him on his arm. He’s supposed to hold you down, no matter what. Aggravated assault and all.

“Okay, so were at the strip club—”

Jon can’t help himself, asking, “damn, you got down like that?”

He has no idea.

“You gotta remember, we were cheerleaders, so we spent a lot of time with the football and basketball teams. And they asses was always there, so we would tag along cause why not? I always had a good time. The food was good as hell too. Anyway, I was dating a football player at the time—”

Alexis slaps Joe on the arm. “She’s always had a type.”

“Yeah, ‘ain’t shit’, clearly.” You grab Joe’s jaw, clarifying. “Except for you, baby.” He mutters his approval, and you continue, “so, I was dating this dude, and he was cheating on me, which was fine. I wasn’t really into him anyway. But, turns out the girl he was cheating with was one of the strippers there and a classmate. I don’t know how the stupid bitch didn’t realize who I was before that night, but whatever. I guess she caught feelings for him or something and saw me as the problem? Mind you, I was dating him before he even started fucking her, but she called herself trying to step to me. And she was talking shit, which I didn’t necessarily care about because one thing I’ve never and will never do is fight over a man. Any fight I ever got into was because they said something about my mama or someone else I love.”

“How many fights you done—” Trinity elbows Jon who grunts and then mutters for you to keep going.

Chuckling, you do so, “so she calls me a bitch….okay, but then calls my mom a bitch, and at that point, I’m seeing red. Cause now my food is cold, I was about to get a lap dance that’s not gon’ happen cause now I gotta beat her ass, and all over some wack ass dick. But now she done bought my mama into it….absolutely not.” A beat. “I didn’t hit her first, because I never hit first, but I did say some slick shit that I knew would provoke her.” You decide to leave out exactly what you said given how graphic it was. “And she hit me, but then this other bitch joins in—”

“And that’s when I get involved,” Alexis chimes, raising her drink high and proud. “Because what you not gon do is jump my motherfucking best friend in front of me.”

Laughing, you continue, “so Alexis crazy ass is beating her friend, I’m on this girl, but then she calls herself trying to stab me with the heel of her shoe or something cause obviously I’m winning—”

“This some WorldStarHipHip shit if I ain’t ever heard—” Trinity hits Jon for his interruption and motions for you to continue going, clearly and deeply invested in the retelling of this wild ass night.

“I’m mixing on this bitch, cause one thing about me, I know how to fight. I just choose not to do it.” And it’s true. Fighting is a last resort, always has been for you, but make no mistake, you know how to throw down. “Anyway, I snatch the shoe out of her hand, grab this bottle of Hennesy I see near me and smash it over her head.”

“And it was lights out.” Alexis says dramatically. “That bitch was laid out like a crime scene. Patrick Star headass.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes from your laughter, you continue, “so someone calls the cops. They show up, and I’m starting to get nervous thinking she’s gonna press charges, because I bust her head open. She had to get stitches and everything. But I had made friends with the owner of the club—-that’s a whole other story—and basically, he refused to provide her with any video footage, made sure no one said anything about what happened, was friends with the cops, and they just chalked it up to a bunch of drunk girls being stupid. And I got off.” Clapping your hand to signify the end, you rest back against Joe. “The end.”

There’s a slightly understandable moment of silence before Kaylah calmly asks, “How drunk were you?”

That’s an easy answer. “Oh, I wasn’t drunk.”

“So….you did all that sober?” Trinity asks, like she needs to just make sure she’s following correctly.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ and look over at Joe who’s all of the emotions, primarily, amused, surprised, and strangely turned on. “Wild times.”

Jon is the first to speak after that. “Man, I always knew I liked you, Y/N. Your ass a little crazy, but I fucks with it.”

Laughing, you explain. “You gotta keep in mind, I was like 19 at the time. I was young and definitely dumb in a lot of ways. I’ll be 32 this year and have grown a lot. I have zero desire to put my hands on anyone. I have a child and a career. I may be tempted, but I’m not going to actually do it. I have too much to lose”

“And that’s why she has me.” Alexis lifts her drink. “I don’t have much to lose cause I’m rich enough to get off. Plus, she’s all boring now. You see how early we’re back. Back in the day, we’d club hop until like 4 in the morning. At least up until Junior year,” she gestures to you with her outstretched thumb. “That’s when this heifer had to get all studious on me.”

“4.0, Summa Cum Laude.” You make a little pose and laugh. “I just got my shit together, and clearly….” you lean back to look at Joe. “ —it paid off.”

—----------

Obviously, you’ve never attended a professional football game, let alone the fucking Super Bowl, but even knowing that, you’re partially surprised by just how many damn people are there. It’s absolutely jam packed, and you’re suddenly grateful for the security detail that escorts the group of you to your seating area.

Joe holds Callie and keeps your hand in his which impacts you in a strange way that you can’t explain. This whole trip has been him being unabashedly open about you and Callie, and you’re starting to think that’s the part that’s still a bit difficult.

For three years, you felt like some secret he kept hidden and stored away, so to be so “displayed” so publicly is such a stark contrast you’re still trying to sit with. It’s not a bad adjustment, just an adjustment nonetheless.

The section rented for the group is surprisingly spacious enough for everyone, and you and Kaylah immediately go delegating, having the kids all in the back rows with the men front and center to see the game they’ve been praying for all year. You knew Joe was a huge 49ers fan, hence your not being entirely surprised when you found a box at your apartment door with a bunch of 49ers apparel for you and Callie to pick from for the game. He also, in true Joe fashion, sent you both sneakers with the 49ers team colors of black, red, and gold.

And one look at Callie as she interacts with her cousins, you can’t deny how adorable she looks, especially as they’re also sporting the apparel because of course his whole family are also fans. Granted, you can’t deny how adorable she looks all decked out like her daddy. You took a more subtle approach, agreeing to the letterman jacket and sneakers, combining them with the 49ers long sleeved crop top and stretch black pants.

There’s a lot of getting everyone settled and you warning Alexis not to make a damn fool of herself, which apparently she’s also dead set on. Something about needing to be ready to be either a consolation or celebration prize for whatever player she was going home with tonight.

When the game starts though, it’s absolutely fascinating watching how intently focused the men are, not wanting to miss a single second. You’re suddenly really grateful you’d briefly spoke with Callie about how this game was very important to Joe, so his attention may not be on her as much as she wants but that’s okay because he’s just a little busy. She responded well, and you can see how helpful it is for her to be around not only other kids but her cousins.

The ease of their connection and ability to play together is something you’re so grateful for, so happy to see. It definitely makes you even more excited about moving, about her being closer to family.

That thought reminds you to ask Joe when he wants to talk to Callie about that, about moving. It feels like something the two of you should do together.

Ironically, you’ve never really been a huge football person, so your interest in the game and who wins is pretty slim to none. You’re there for a good time and, most importantly, Usher’s performance. Kaylah seems to be on a similar wavelength, so while the rest are deeply invested in arguably the most important game of the year, you two engage in casual dialogue.

She gives you some much appreciated tips on the area, specifically regarding school systems and other resources for Callie. She mentions a dance school her daughter also attends classes at, and that immediately catches your attention cause Callie has given some indications she wants to do ballet. And while you have your reservations, it’s mostly been because of financial reasons.

Not that daddy warbucks over there won’t handle that for you.

There’s also a lot of photos and videos that get taken to commemorate this moment. Most of which are headed by life of the party, Alexis. You’re grateful though, happy to have her here. She even catches your attention when Callie maneuvers her way over to Joe, tugging on his pants leg for him to pick her up. You start to bring her back by you, but you end up watching Joe pull her up, kissing her cheek as he patiently tries to explain the game to her.

It brings a warm smile on your face, and you use your phone to snap a photo of them. It’s from behind, but the lighting, the way Joe is pointing and Callie following his line of vision, there’s something about it so wholesome and moving.

You set it as your lock screen.

By the time halftime rolls around, the men are all in great moods given their team is so far dominating. However, you and the rest of the ladies present are in a great mood for entirely different reasons.

The minute you hear the opening chords of Caught Up, you’re in a completely different world, similar to the happy space of attending concerts in your teens and college days. Alexis is definitely your number one hype woman, but really, Trin and Kaylah are just as lit. The guys are definitely enjoying the show as well, but Usher has been that man for you, so he’s your only focus.

It only gets exponentially better, and the minute he starts to perform Yeah joined by both Lil John and Ludacris, you and Alexis are shouting out every single damn word of Luda’s iconic verse.

It’s definitely a moment you’ll absolutely never forget.

Unfortunately, the halftime show seems to be a bit of a climax as the third quarter progresses, and the tide seems to start turning in favor of the Chiefs. Similarly, it’s not missed upon you how the younger kids seem to be slowing down. Callie is definitely ready for bed and understandably so. It’s been a long day and is way past her bedtime. After a brief discussion with Joe and Josh, it’s decided that you and Kaylah will take the younger kids back to the hotel, especially since you both have very little interest in how the game plays out but respect the guys needing to stay.

And Alexis wild ass most definitely stays behind for….obvious reasons.

Joe, of course, doesn’t let you and Callie leave without a hug, kiss, and telling you both he loves you. A tradition of sorts now, definitely one you’ll never get tired of.

Security escorts the smaller group of you to your vehicles, and by the time you’ve reached the hotel, the younger kids are tapped out. You manage to get Callie out of her clothes, into her jammies, and bonnet on her head before she passes out in her bed.

Kaylah has a similar experience with her kids, the two of you plopping down on the sofa together.

“I hope they pull the win. I don’t know if you’ve ever been around Joe when the 49ers lose, but he’s not pleasant. None of them are.”

“I get it,” you chuckle. “I’d be pissed if I paid all that money to see my team lose too.”

“At least we had our good time seeing Usher’s fine ass.”

Laughing, you slap hands with her. “I know that’s right!”

As the laughter dies down, Kaylah gives you an earnest smile. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I really am glad you came on this trip. I’ve heard both the twins and especially Joe speak so highly of you, and they definitely weren’t wrong. More importantly, I think you’re really good for Joe. I haven’t seen him as happy as he is with you and Callie since we were in high school, really.”

“Can I be honest with you about something?” Her kind words make you feel comfortable enough to be forthcoming with her. “I was a bit nervous you wouldn’t like me.”

Her eyes widen. “Me? Why?”

“I guess…..I worried you would feel a sense of loyalty to Joe’s ex-wife, and given how we got together…..

She nods. “I can understand that, but…if I’m being honest with you, I’ve probably had more meaningful interactions with you in these two days than I did in all of the time they were together. Don’t get me wrong, Jadah was super nice and chill, but she never really interacted with us like that. She mostly kept to herself.”

“What was the deal with their marriage?” It feels a bit off asking her, but given she’s known them for so long, she of all people would be the person to ask. “I know….I know he told me they only got married because she was pregnant and that….that she miscarried.”

It’s when you say that she gives you a strange look. “Y/N…..they didn’t have a miscarriage.” Before the shock fully wears off and you can ask her what happened then, she explains in an understandably sad tone. “It was….it was a stillbirth. She was 8 months pregnant.”

Your stomach…drops. That….that’s not what you expected to leave her mouth. Not at all.

Thinking back to that brief conversation with Joe, he never really specified what happened. Just made sure you knew Callie didn’t have a sibling. You’d just assumed a miscarriage is what happened.

But a stillbirth….your brain can’t even begin to comprehend the heartbreak they must have experienced. To be in a headspace that you’re welcoming your first child for the better part of a year only to have it so cruelly ripped away in such a horrific manner….it’s devastating.

“I didn’t….”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shake your head, and she offers a sad smile. “I’m not surprised. Joe seems very open with you and obviously trusts you a lot, but that….I know that messed him up real bad.”

Just like finding out he’d missed out on almost five years of Callie’s life. You’re starting to understand more and more why he came at you so hard initially, it was more than warranted but most likely pulling from his prior trauma as well.

Kaylah continues, explaining gently, “I don’t know…I don’t know if it’s a good idea to push him too much on discussing it, YN. He’s never even really talked about it to the twins, and they tell each other everything. I’m sure he’s never fully processed it. Then again, I don’t know how you can ever process something like that.”

Hearing this has suddenly entirely soured your mood, and you have no ill feelings toward Kaylah. Just the opposite. You’re grateful she felt comfortable enough to be honest with you. You just wish the truth didn’t have you with this dull ache in your chest.

—----------

The 49ers loss hits you harder for reasons completely different than actual fans. It makes you sad for Joe, a sentiment you were already struggling with, to be honest.

Anticipating he’ll be looking for some sort of distraction, especially with Callie knocked out for the night, you try to get your shower finished before he makes it back to the hotel. It’s a wasted effort, because not only does he make it back before then, but he scares the hell out of you when his hulking frame joins you from behind under the steaming hot water.

But before a single word can leave your mouth, his lips are on you, and you know instantly that he plans to take his emotions out on you in the only way that’s most appropriate.

Fucking.

Joe fucks you against the shower wall, on the bathroom counter, in the exact way you promised him the night before but couldn’t follow through on because you were tired. He’s rough, rougher than you’ve had him in a while, and while it’s exactly what you wanted, it also saddens you that you know he’s disappointed.

It’s just a game, yes, but there’s something about a loss at this level that makes it hit deeper. It also doesn’t help that you were already feeling a tremendous amount of empathy toward him after finding out about his loss.

Body completely used and thoroughly fucked, the end of your sexscapade finds you both, naked and worn out. Your body is draped upon his as his finger moves around lazily across your back.

It’s a comfortable silence when he asks, “was I too rough with you?”

Lifting your head, you give him the strangest look. How long has it been since ya’ll really fucked? He’s clearly forgotten how you get down. “Did you seriously just ask me that? This is me, Joe..” Laying your head back on his chest, you remind him of your only rules in the bedroom. “Unless I’m bleeding or passed out, never too rough.”

Laughing, he flicks your arm as you kiss his shoulder. Changing gears a bit, his expression softens. “Thank you for coming, for bringing her.”

“You never have to thank me for that.” You remind, because it’s the truth. You’d escort Callie to Siberia if that’s where he was. “But we do need to figure out when we’re gonna talk to her about moving.”

He seems to also remember this is a thing, asking, “how do you think she’ll feel?”

You have to take a second to think about his question. It’s something you’ve definitely considered. Callie has only known your town. That’s her home. What would it be like to uproot her? You finally settle on the best, honest answer you can muster. “I think she’ll be a little sad to leave her preschool friends, definitely my mom but what she wants more than anything is to be a family, so she’ll be happy.”

“Does she know we’re together?”

“I—I don’t know actually.” It’s not really something you’ve thought about until this very moment, just kinda assumed that it was a given. “Well, shit, maybe we should tell her that too.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure she’s probably put two and two together.”

“Probably so.” Callie is definitely one smart cookie, and it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume she’s realized you and Joe are dating. “Oh, and going back to moving, it’s Florida. Disney is in Florida. That’ll definitely be a selling point for her.”

Joe’s hand moves up and down your side, soothingly. “We’re going the week of her birthday, by the way.”

Peeking up at him, you double check what’s really obvious but also still so surreal. “To Disney?”

“Yeah.”

“They let you off for a whole week?” That’s a stunner, for certain. “Coming off a Wrestlemania win? Damn, just how heavy is your pull now?”

“What?” He seems confused by your question, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. And that’s puzzling to you because there’s nothing confusing about what you’re asking. You know enough about WWE to know how this works. He’s gonna retain at WrestleMania and be subsequently thrust deep in promos and segments. “Oh yeah….I’ve got it handled.”

Waiting for more is a waste of time with this man. He can be so coy sometimes. “You’re not gonna tell me anything more, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Ass.” His elusive behavior is becoming both familiar and given but still annoying nonetheless. Regardless, you take your turn, switching topics a bit. “Have I told you how proud of you I am? Cause I am. So so proud of you, Joe. I always knew you could do it.” You lift up, biting down on your bottom lip as you push some of his hair back. “You’re gonna hold the record for most main events at Wrestlemania. Beating Hulk’s record. Thee fucking Hulk Hogan. And once you whoop Ken doll’s ass, you’re gonna have the third longest title reign in WWE history. Do you know how amazing that is?”

His hand is on your hip, making soft circles. “It’s not everything….”

Scoffing, you dismiss his dismissal. That is quite literally everything he ever told you he wanted. “The hell it isn’t. I remember every conversation we ever had about this, Leati. Your worries. Your hopes. Your dreams. This is what you’ve always wanted and worked your whole life for.” He’d always been so open and vulnerable about where he ultimately wanted his career to go, the burning desire he had to make it happen, and to see him do just that means the world to you. It should mean the world to him.

But there’s something off about his tone, and you can’t quite make out if it’s because he’s still reeling from the loss or something else. It almost feels like everything you’re saying is going in one ear and out the other because it no longer means that much to him. You know that can’t be the case. Not with how long he’s been grinding and working his ass off.

His tone and expression are both appreciative as he shares, “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much your support meant to me. You always knew the right thing to say.”

You lean down to kiss him, nice and slow. “I’m just really good at that shit.” Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly start to snake your hand down his chest. “I’m really good at a lot of shit actually.” Whatever is bothering him, you know one way to help.

A really really good way.

Chuckling, his jaw clenches when you try to wrap your hand around him, fingers unable to connect from his width. He’s already hard for you. “You lock the door?”

You’ve never been so grateful for hotel rooms with bedroom doors that lock.

“Of course.” There’s no time wasted in moving so that you’re on top of him, reaching to align him just right so you can sink down on your favorite pastime.

“My turn….”

—----------

Someone knocking on your door, loudly, at 11am, just hours after you land back in town wasn’t on your agenda for the day.

You, Callie, and Alexis caught an early morning flight that was difficult for everyone giving how crazy busy the weekend was, but especially for Callie who was already sad at having to say bye to her dad again and was still tired from lack of adequate sleep.

You’re especially happy you chose to take today off and keep Callie home from preschool. You definitely need time to recover.

But life has a way of lifing. You’re immediately annoyed, looking beside you to see that Alexis is also stirring in her sleep, mumbling something about ‘fuck off.’ Sighing loudly, you stare at the ceiling, almost ready to leave whoever it is outside. But then they knock again, and you know this isn’t someone you can avoid.

Even if you’re very tempted. Reaching for a robe, you pull it on and tie it around your wait, sliding your slippers on to make your way to the front door. Not even bothering to look through the peephole, you rip it open, ready to curse someone out when you see who it is.

Alyssa’s striking blue eyes are the first thing you noticed followed by the shine of the police badge attached to Officer Austin’s uniform.

Why the hell is a police officer and one of the town’s social worker at your door?

“Hi….” You have to clear your voice, sleep weighing it down with coarse grit. “Is…is everything alright?” Panic briefly sets in. “Is it one of my students?”

This is the part of being a teacher that guts you, when a child is being harmed or at risk of being harmed and you have to make a call that does both a lot of good and a lot of bad. Alyssa has been the social worker you’ve worked with the most, but this is definitely the first time she’s come to your house about a case.

“Y/N…..” Her expression is grim, and you realize quickly that whatever it is is not good. Not good at all. “We received a report against you.”

“A report?” Your hand is gripping the door so tightly, you’re certain splinters are going to embed themselves into the pads of your fingers. But it’s a much better feeling than what’s starting to grow in the pit of your stomach. “What—what kind of report?”

There’s hesitation, and you understand why when she clarifies. “An immediate danger report.”

“No.” Your stomach drops. “Alyssa, you can’t—-you can’t be serious.”

Your head is absolutely spinning. This…this can’t be right. A social worker and police officer cannot be standing at your door saying that someone called DCFS on you and made a report that not only is Callie in danger, but she’s in immediate danger.

You’ve had the unfortunate experience of being the one to make reports, working plenty with Alyssa and the local police to navigate these cases. And it’s in that experience you’ve learned the definition of an immediate danger report and what it requires.

The immediate removal of a child from the accused home and custody.

They want to take Callie from you.

Officer Austin speaks in an equally sympathetic tone. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve known you since you were a little girl, and this makes me sick to my stomach. I hate it. I know it’s all lies and a waste of time and resources, but you know the law. We have to—“

However, you’re focused on Alyssa as you know the police are only brought along in case the situation becomes hostile. You have no desire to get physical with law enforcement, but you will get down on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to keep your baby with you. “Please don’t do this. Alyssa, you know me—“

“I do, and that’s why I arranged where she’ll be released to your mom for custody and I got a hearing scheduled with the judge for you on Wednesday. It’ll only be three days—” If it wasn’t for the pending mental breakdown, you’d be more appreciative. You’d much rather Callie be sent to stay with your mom instead of put in emergency foster care.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to live with that.

“Oh my god…..” You feel like you’re going to pass out, suddenly aware of Alexis' presence as she too asks more questions about what’s going on and who made this report. She’s, understandably, pissed. But, her last question is a no brainer.

There’s only one person you know who would have a motive to do something like this.

“Three days without speaking or seeing my child! You know how attached she is to me, Alyssa!” It’s also in your experience with these types of situations that you know zero communication is allowed between the child and parent being accused until the emergency court hearing takes place.

Three days without being able to speak to Callie….pain like this should never be allowed to be experienced. It’s a nightmare turned into reality.

She truly looks remorseful, and you know she finds this just as ridiculous as you. “My hands are tied Y/N.”

Voice low, you finally ask, “what are the accusations?” If an answer was given to Alexis, you didn’t hear it, and regardless. You need to ask for yourself.

“Y/N.”

You repeat, no room for argument or refusal in your tone. “What…are the accusations, Alyssa?”

She swallows, answering in a low tone. “Child endangerment. Specifically….you’ve been accused of leaving Callie unintended to meet men for sex, and the accusation that made it immediate danger….is that you plan to prostitute Callie.”

It takes everything in you not to projectile vomit right on the spot, as you move your hand to your stomach, bent over. There aren’t enough words to describe your disgust and revulsion.

Alyssa starts to provide more basic information regarding getting Callie back, but it's a waste of time.

You know this. You’re more than well aware of how this process works. Just never in a million years did you think you’d be involved in one of your own.

Absolutely defeated and crushed, you ask, “let me talk to her first, please.”

“Of course.”

Alexis stays behind to follow up with additional questions that you’re partially paying attention to, but the majority of your focus is on staying upright. You could throw up and pass out on cue at this very moment. That’s how overwhelmed you feel, but the second your shaking hand opens Callie’s door, it’s an even bigger battle.

She’s still sleeping.

Your sweet, innocent child is still sleeping, probably trying to recover from all the festivities from this weekend. And you have to wake her up. You have to wake her up to undoubtedly break her heart.

“Oh God…..” Hand on your stomach, you take three, big, deep breaths to settle your nervous system. Callie can’t see how much of a wreck you are. That’s only going to make it worse.

Sitting on the side of her bed, you clench and unclench your hands to minimize the shaking before gently pushing on her shoulder. “Calista, baby, I need you to get up.” It takes a couple of times, as you knew it would because you know your child like the back of your hand. The child who you would never do anything to endanger or any of the other egregious accusations made against you resulting in this nightmare.

Eyes blinking open, you chuckle at the pout on her face.

“I’m sleepy, mommy….”

“I know, baby.” You clear your throat, playing off the way emotion catches you, almost exposing the seriousness of this moment. “But…mommy needs you to get up. You….you’ve gotta go by grandma, okay?”

She looks at you, still with that pout and very much still partially sleep. “Can we go later?”

“No, baby. I—” This is inarguably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. “I can’t go with you.”

And this is when you see her pout deepen. “Why?”

“Callie….” Hand on her face, you try to ignore the sound of your heart shattering. “You’re not gonna see mommy or be able to talk to me for a couple days, baby.”

And you knew, you knew before even opening your mouth that her eyes would begin to water that telling her this harsh but necessary truth would cause the reaction you’re starting to see. Her face is reddening, mouth dropped into a permanent frown.

It tears you apart to do this to her. “Baby, please don’t cry. It’s only for three days and—and you’ll have grandma, and—and auntie Alexis will visit you, and I’ll make sure daddy talks to you as often as he can—”

“But what about you? You’re my mommy.” She rubs at her eyes, crying harder. “Why are you leaving me?”

Pulling her into your chest, you swear to her, “listen to me, Callie, I will never ever leave you. Okay? The…the people who make sure little kids like you are safe and taken care of just want to make sure I’m a good mommy to you, o-okay?”

“But you’re the best mommy,” she cries into you, and a sob leaves your throat at that. Callie’s heartfelt tears, the fear and confusion in her little voice. It rips your heart to shreds. You hold her as long as you can before helping her get dressed and

gather a little backpack with a few items.

You know she already has mostly everything she’ll need at your mom’s already.

Everything except you.

Alyssa allows you to hold her as you walk down to the police car, but it’s when Officer Austin opens the door and Callie begins to cry, asking him, “please don’t take me from my mommy!” that you break again.

It’s impossible to keep your composure with your four-year-old child begging not to be taken from you. Pulling it together, you kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, reminding her that you love her, and that you’ll see her again before she knows it. It’s the best you can do, it’s the only thing you can do.

Setting her down on the ground, you crouch in front of her, placing both hands on her cheeks. “Ms. Alyssa and this nice officer are gonna bring you to grandma right now, okay? I promise I’m gonna get you as soon as I can, baby, and no one will ever take you away from me again, okay?”

She doesn’t say anything, face still full of heartbreak. She hugs you again, holding on tight. “I love you, mommy.”

Voice cracking, you whisper, “I love you too, baby.”

Eventually finding the strength, you break away and stand up to see Alyssa wiping a tear from her eyes. She then forces a sad smile and takes Callie’s hand, leading her into the back of the police car. Even being buckled in, you see Callie continuing to look back at you, sadness morphing with helplessness.

And that’s the last view you’ll have of your daughter, looking hopeless and confused as to why this is happening.

But you know exactly why this is happening.

And you know exactly what you need to do.

“Y/N…..”

Alexis watery eyes are a brief view you have before dashing up the stairs and throwing open your apartment door. Shaking hands manage to grab you car keys off the kitchen island as you head back for the front door only to find that you can’t march out because Alexis is standing in front of the door.

“Move out my way, Alexis.”

“Y/N. You’re upset. Okay—”

Snapping, you shout at her. “Move! Now!”

She doesn’t hesitate to match your energy. “Not until you fucking calm down!”

Snapping, you scream. “She just got my child taken away from me, Alexis! Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m gonna smash her fucking face in!”

Never…..never in a million years did you think Mariah could be capable of something like this. That she could be evil as to call DCFS on you, make up lies so horrific that it sickens you to even think about them, and have your child ripped away from you. Damn what this has done to you. What about Callie? Was she even thinking about how traumatic this would be for Callie?

She’ll be thinking about it when you stomp her head into the fucking pavement.

“Hey! You have every right to be upset, okay? But, this is probably what she wants! She knows they’re not gonna find anything on you, but you go over there and beat her ass, it puts the spotlight on you and then gives them a basis to question your fitness.” Alexis is such a sound voice of reason right now, but it’s hard to heed when your literal heart has just been ripped from your fucking body. “You need to focus on doing what you need to do to get Callie back, okay? Call Joe—”

Joe.

You hadn’t….you hadn’t even thought about him. How can you explain this to him? Explain to him that your child, the child he just found out about not even six months ago is now technically in custody of DCFS because of your friend. Is that even forgivable? Beyond that, how crushing is that going to be for him?

Eyes watering, you shake your head, volume a few octaves lowered. You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack. “No, I can’t—-I can’t tell him.”

Alexis steps to you, placing her hands on your face, centering you. “Yes, you can, and you will. He needs to know, and you need support right now. I’m here for you, of course, but that’s the man you love. You need him.” Her expression then darkens. “And don’t you worry about Mariah. I got that hoe. Believe that. You don’t have to put a hand on her. Imma do it for you.”

Alexis words do both everything and nothing for you. Granted, you’re not sure if anything will be substantial enough short of having your child returned to your custody or all of this being some sick joke.

You’re not even sure when Alexis walks away to grab your phone until she’s reaching it to you. “Call him, sweetie. I promise you he’s not going to blame you. He’s going to be upset for the same reasons you are: because this is all bullshit. But please, Y/N, just….call this man.”

Finally taking the phone, she nods with a small smile. She then goes to remove her earrings and pull back her hair. “I’m gonna go curb stump this hoe.”

Alexis goes to the back, and you just stare at your phone. You once thought calling Joe to tell him about Callie’s existence would be one of the hardest phone calls you would ever have to make.

God, you were so wrong.

Trembling fingers tap on the phone to bring up his contact, and with tears streaming down your face, you hit call.

Whether for better or worse, he doesn’t answer, forcing you to leave a voicemail message.

“Hey.” It’s a fruitless and meritless effort to keep your voice strong when you feel anything but. “I–I need you to call me as soon as you get a chance….please.” Hitting end, both you and the phone drop on the floor. On your knees, you finally release the sob you’d been holding in for the past twenty minutes. Moments later, Alexis is besides you, comforting you.

Not that it does any good.

There is no good left.

Only pain.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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simp-ly-writes · 7 months ago

Text

For All Time

Paring: 10th Doctor x Fem! Time Lord!Reader

Summary: Many, Many worlds ago you were married to the Doctor. That was until a war tore your home planet and species apart and you were part of the lucky handful that managed to make your way out into the universe- alive. As you go through many regenerations of yourself, you run into the Master, an old friend of yours that you faintly remember. He tells you of the Doctor, warns you of your spouse and from then on, you are on a mission to never interact with him. Should be easy... right?

Warnings: 3300 words. Angst with no HEA. Themes of death. Depictions of Blood.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Doctor Who and I have only watched 12 hours worth of video essay's on the series. Please be kind and I hope you all enjoy~ :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

You were terrified of time lords, the Doctor in particular and as to not be a hypocrite, you were scared of yourself- of everything you could fuck up for all time- that you already did fuck up for all time as the Master had already reported to you all those regenerations ago.

He told you of the horrors you made, the inconsequential decisions you thought to be just so now added up to a few hundred deaths on your hands as universe's threatened to collapse and the possible elimination of dozens of species painted your hands in guilt. Your finger nails pressing into your palms as you shook your head, trying to wring the statistics out of your head. But in the sliver of a smile, his dark eyes filled your thoughts as he placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned closer to your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

You felt his breath on your neck as he brushed your hair away from your face, drinking up your tears while whispering in your ear, "But you haven't done the worst, love." He emits a small chuckle, his head knocking slighting against your own as you lean further back into the wall for support. "It is the Doctor that damned us all and yet we are the one's to be blamed, for everything, for all time, now and forever. He has killed millions, and nearly every little lover he calls companions he takes on his tyrannical adventures."

Your voice meek, throat clogged with tears as you sniffle for air, "I thought I was the only one, old friend... I thought that- that-"

"From what I know..." he cuts you off, taking a step back, allowing you room to breath as your legs give out from underneath yourself, your back falling against the wall before you are sat on the floor. Your fingers picking away at the grout between the tiles as you count the tiles of the room, doing your best to blink away the tears. "... its just the three of us and if I can offer you a tidbit of advice form one friend to another..."

He stand at full height, leaning down to lift your chin, that sliver now a toothy grin as his fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing your lips together, his eyes flash over to them before continuing his eye contact as you wince at the force he handles you with. "...continue to run away from us all." He drops your head, as if your skin burned his own and by the time you gain the momentum to look up once more, there are no traces he ever was here- he ever exist, a mere fragment of your imagination. You pick yourself up the floor and take his advice to heart.

So thats how you found yourself, sat underneath an umbrella in early spring within France. You and your Tardis concluded the time to be the mid two-thousands as you tried not to let the everlasting smell of piss on the streets keep you from enjoying an early brunch.

You watched as various tourists rolled themselves out onto the streets, snapping hundreds of pictures with their digital cameras, kids pointing at various things in storefronts, leading their parents chasing after them. A small smile casted upon your features as you listened to their little feet run across the cobbled streets, cheering loudly at the sweets in the window.

The Sun begins to peek out from between the clouds as you cast your gaze down to escape its shinning rays sneaking underneath your cover. Taking a sip of your now ice-cold coffee, you jolt in your seat, unaware that it was yourself who clattered the cup to the plate, trying to set your drink down. Dropping your shoulders down, your cheeks warm as the kids from earlier snap their heads towards the noise as you begin to pat your pants dry from the spilled coffee.

You swear lightly underneath your breath, your book-ruined and the liquid threatening to ruin your pants as well. Taking a napkin from the holder, you pat yourself down before opening the book in your lap, trying to air out the pages.

But soon the book and outfit become the last of your worries as your ear twitch to the familiar mechanical wizzing sound of what could only be a Tardis. Sweat instantly forms in your palms, your eyes dart around the streets, looking, watching, waiting for his arrival. You hate to admit that the panic holds yourself still, strapped to this very chair to witness the horror about to be unleashed yet all these humans appear none-the-wiser to their upcoming demise.

And when you think all those tears you shed were now buried away yet new ones burn your vision blurry as you grip the table in wait. What of the children, the families, the lives of them all? Your brain presses, kicking into hyperdrive, asking yourself if you are ready to die. But what will he do if he finds me? And your mind goes blank, incapable of thinking of what tortures you would endure.

So you present yourself human, plastering a fake smile, bright eyes as silent tears run rivers down your cheeks. Your breathing staggered just like your hearts, threatening to exit your body and make a life for themselves. It would be better to die, you convince yourself, the words echoing through your soul, it is better to die, die, die.

It feels like lifetimes move as you await his presence, eyes casting down the various alleyways, ears pointed for the sounds of agony and screams in his pleasure for universal domination. "He's killed millions," the Master's voice whispers into your ear with the breeze following by the sound of two beating hearts.

It was hard to miss the way your heart slowed, matching the breaths in between his own. His steps organized in the crowd surrounding him as a woman follows just behind his every step. His hair caught you first, its frazzled appearance as if he dragged his hands through the roots a few hundred times yet no stress coated his features, not a single wrinkle or crinkle besides a smile that has you loosening your grip on the table.

His direction leads him closer towards the coffee shop you sit in front of as a child runs across his front, stepping on one of his sneakers, an involuntary gasp escapes between your painted lips yet the Doctor takes no attention nor comment to them, simply continuing his way through the crowd. You hear his voice above all the afternoon commotion, his accent catching you off guard, "Say Donna, have you ever seen Paris or the South of France? I must say that this tower of theres is nothing in comparison to some of the future civilizations I've seen, I should, I will take you to one in the future or well, when we are done here."

The woman nods along to what he says, biting her lip, a knowing smile growing across her features as if she is cooking up a line to fire back, "Well the last time I was here was with you but we didn't really get to have a getaway besides running from those martians trying to KILL US! This is much better, oh!- did you see that woman's sandwich! How about lunch?"

Your eyes are wide as she tilts her head in your direction. You embody the appearance of a deer in headlights before swiftly unfolding the newspaper on the table, doing your best to read the various headlines with plausible interest.

The Doctor hums thoughtfully, looking to where Donna's eyes had landed, his eyes narrow in of the outrageously large paper that covers your face as he leans closer to Donna, "is that newspaper big, or is the woman just small?"

Donna laughs, knocking her shoulder with the Doctor as he shuffles back, head tipped down into a playful glare. "Well, spaceman. In comparison to you, anything appears larger than life."

"Do you want that sandwich or not?" The Doctor responds, eyes already bored and looking at the various other shops and people on the street, subconsciously looking for a threat to ruin the day.

"Well, yes-"

"Then lets get you that sandwich," and with that the Doctor is taking large strides up to your table. Curiosity brimming with excitement to uncover whoever was behind that paper. His heart rate began to climb, the walk now a light job as Donna wondered whatever has gotten into the Doctor.

You tense in preparation, saying your grievances underneath your breath as the man reaches forward, ripping the newspaper that had gradually been pressed closer to your face as he leaned closer to you. You pick up the book in your lap, spreading the pages wide open. Wincing once your fingers trace up the spine, finding a new crack upon its surface- that too is torn out of your hands.

In a childish effort- you close your eyes, hands racing across the tables surface before feeling the soft material of a serviette. Your plate clatters against the wooden table as you rip the cloth from underneath, waving it in the air to unfold it and subsequently into his face as he audibly complains. Swiftly opening your eyes, you look through the thin material, tracing over his blurry outline and hard-to-reach features while leaning back as far as your chair allows you too. Your feet hooking under the tables legs as only two chair legs hold you from toppling over.

The man huffs, his chair scraping against the pavement in a horrifying screech as your tableware clatters to the floor, bits and pieces of porcelain scraping across your leather shoes and socks. He peers over your napkin, eyebrow raised, brown-eyes peering to see your wide ones. You watch as his other eyebrow races to match the other, a small gasp escapes between his parting lips with fingers brushing against your own. He steals away the last of your cover, casting it aside to a nearby empty table.

The Doctor leans closer to listen to your hearts beating rapidly in your chest as he casts a hand down to feel his own. By the time he looks back up at you, a charming smile has one threatening to spread across your face but the Master's words make it fall the next moment as the Doctor gently clasps your hand between his own, taking the seat behind himself, pulling you forwards to sit level.

"Hello, darling," he whispers out, unsure if you are truly you as he awaits your answer. He squeezes your hand, ushering you to respond. You hate the way the pet-name makes you feel, the memories that flood your mind and all the time in between. A moment passes between you both before an approaching fiery-headed woman shifts your attention away from one another.

"DOCTOR? DOCTOR! What in the hells do you think you're doing?! Harassing this poor woman- oh I apologize dear, I have no idea what gotten into him today. I don't want that Sandwich in particular, just any sandwich!" Donna shouts out in the Doctors face. You wait for her to take him by the ear like a tired mom yet she smacks him on the back of his head as he drops your hand to ease the oncoming bruise.

With this distraction you quickly stand, throwing an unknown amount of currency on the table before darting down the crowded Paris streets. The Doctor curses underneath his breath lightly, "You don't understand, Donna!"

"What don't I understand? You going after some random human, is she a past companion or something?" Donna asks, eyes casting towards your empty seat that the Doctor glares at.

"Thats my wife!" The Doctor outbursts, grabbing your book and paper in hand before darting off after you, Donna running swiftly after the spaceman. "YOUR WHAT?!" Donna screams out between breaths.

"MY WIFE!"

"Don't you have five of those already?" She teases but the tone is peaked with genuine curiosity.

"Well yes- no. I don't know, they were the first!" The Doctor stumbles the words out, mind a fumbled mess at the sudden shock of you.

"The first, wait. Are they..." Donna's steps come to a halt as the Doctor casts his head back, steps slowing as they regain their breath, he hands your book and newspaper to Donna who holds onto the materials tightly. "...a time lord?"

"Yes..." the Doctor says in a remorseful tone. "....Yes, they are."

You lost where you last parked your Tardis as you turn down road after road, cars honking as you interrupt the traffic in your maddened dash. You keep your ears peaked for the two intruders to your centuries of peace. Your mind running a mile a minute for a plan that you assure yourself to be thinking of on the fly as you take another sharp turn, flying into someones arms.

They grip you still, smelling of aftershave and coffee with a dash of honey. You take in a deeper breath, curious to find the undertones before a chuckle has you pulling away, blinking rapidly as they hold onto your elbows and pull you into an empty shop under construction. You curse when seeing those familiar brown eyes, your hands drifting over the soft fabric of his jacket, feeling the small rips and seams before pulling away. Dusting your hands off on your pants, he moves his touch up to your shoulders, giving them a light shake.

"Why are you running, is there an emergency? A planet being overtaken, a universe about to explode?" He rattles off various answers for your selection yet you chose to remain silent. Ripping yourself away from his touch, you watch as his hands flex, itching to hold onto something, to someone, before he reaches into his jacket pocket as you do the same.

Two sonic screwdrivers are presented, shoving the glowing end into one another's presences. The door slams open and shut once more as Donna casts her arms wide and behind herself, blocking any potential escape. "Alright, lets gets things settled here, we don't need to me shoving our sonic screwdrivers at each other now!" Donna announces.

You wait for the Doctor to drop his first, eyes following as his hand open, his movements slow as he guides the technology back into his coat. He nods towards you, beckoning for you to do the same, your hands shake as you press it into your pant pocket for easier access. The Doctor raises a brow to this, looking back at Donna who's sights are set on you with pity.

The Doctor takes a step forwards, you shake your head, hands raised, your voice cracking, "You. Are. A. Monster! A Monster that has destroyed lives! You are in the midst of ruining another just now. If you would PLEASE just let me walk away I can promise you that I will do nothing- a personal moral of mine-"

The Doctors eyes gloss over, memories flash over himself. His arms feel heavy, shoulders slumping forwards as he remembers holding what he thought to be the second-to-last time lord in his arms, the Master as he died- unwilling to regenerate. "But here's the thing, I don't want to just 'let you walk away,' not with how I lost the last one- not when I am so close again to what could be," the Doctor pleads sincerity, his heart shattering at your words he knows a part to be true. But to hear them coming from who he surly believes to be you, it cuts him wounds him as you continuously step away from him as he nears.

The pain, the fear in your eyes, dictating your speech, he wishes to comfort you, hand raising to capture your outstretched one yet you quickly press your hands back into your chest. Right above your heart as it covering it for an attack. Donna sternly voices the Doctors name causing the man to pause in motion. Feet posed for another step, hand outstretched in a welcoming fashion, palm stretching outwards.

"Exactly. What COULD be. Couldn't have said it better myself, Doctor," you spit his name out, copying the Master's tone. "I'd say it even makes things easier on the both of us. Now please, let. me. go. Or better yet- kill me! Kill me right here, right now! I know you want to so just DO IT!" you scream out, words chocking on tears as you cough, hunching your form over. You feel so small, so hopeless as you look over to his companion, silently asking for her to convince him.

"No," the Doctor states firmly, hands now gripped into fists as he struggles to articulate his next words, looking over at Donna for support.

"Then I am sorry," you hush out softly before jumping up with all your strength as you cast a right hook across his nose. Blood pours over your knuckles as you fling your hand to remove the bodily fluid form your skin, making a mad dash towards the door.

You shout an apology to the human companion, having to shove 'Donna' you remember her name to be, out of the way and make your way back onto the streets. The Tardis had to be close, you think to yourself- the feeling in your gut starting to swell alongside your knuckles as you hissed through the pain, flinging yourself back towards your on-the-go home and pressing towards a random position. Pleading towards the console, anywhere but here, but now, with him- please.

"Wa-" The Doctor began to say before gripping his noise, casting his head upwards to try and stop the onslaught of blood. Tears cascaded down his features, creating a mess across his face as the liquids dropped down to his collard shirt and suit, staining the material for good.

Donna watched your escape through the window, you paid no mind to turn around, to take one last look no matter how hard your shoulders tensed or your neck tilted until you were out of sight. Shaking her head she walks over to the Doctor, reaching around in her pockets for a napkin as she presents the thin cloth to him.

The Doctor mumbles a thanks, beginning to wipe away at his face from his reflection in the glass. The air in the room is depleting as the Time Lord struggles to choke down air from the weight heaving in his chest. Donna rubs his back, watching as his back tenses before settling yet he refuses to look at her, only looking at the direction you fled in.

A few moments passes and the Doctor and Donna had yet to move form their positions, in a light tone, nervous to cut through the heavy silence too swiftly, Donna softly speaks, "You alright?"

The Doctor stands to full height, tissue dropping to the dirty floors beneath as he kicks away a loose bunch of screws. "I'm always alright." The Doctor nods- as if hyping himself up. He begins to make his way towards the door, looking back with a hand outstretched once more.

Donnas heartbreaks then and there as the spaceman smiles at her. She can see the pain in his eyes, the remnants of tears still in the corner of his eyes and the small sniffles he does his best to hide. She softly grasps his hand, giving it a squeeze. She listens to the breath he lets out shakily before leading them back out the door and in the opposite direction of you.

↳ A/N: what did you think? :)

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fickleminder · 13 days ago

Text

the matchmaker

Happy birthday Barney woooooo 💜

- You’re a matchmaker who works mostly with nobles, seeing as they’re the ones still rooted in traditions and such. Personally you believe in marrying for love, but this pays the bills so…

- You’re damn good at your job too. You know how to read your clients; you can suss out what kind of demons they really are underneath whatever front they put on for you. You can tell which personality traits are likely to work well together, and if you’ve had a hand in helping lesser demons from bad families escape to safer and more comfortable lives, they would never tell.

- One day this little demon no more than several centuries old walks into your office asking for a marriage partner.

- “Not for me, for my big brother!” He clarifies while you’re mentally cursing the noble families who still follow child bride practices.

- Said big brother barges in not two seconds later apologizing for his rudeness and trying unsuccessfully to stop his sibling from spilling his entire life story.

- You recognize Mephistopheles immediately. Not only is his family well-known in your network, but you’ve done business with many of his associates and one of his underlings had interviewed you for an article before.

- Apparently he’s under pressure from his family to marry, despite not being open to the idea at this time. You know how messy noble politics can be, so you don’t pry and instead get him started on the process. At the very least, you can match him with someone he won’t completely detest. Best case scenario, he finds an accomplice to fake a relationship with.

- (After a preliminary screening, it seems like Mephisto’s ideal partner is Lord Diavolo himself, but rumor has it he’s already infatuated with one of his students, so he’s off the table. Not that you’d go anywhere near the prince, especially with that butler of his constantly by his side.)

- You soon discover that Mephisto is one tough customer. He finds fault in every single match you send his way, even when you suggest that he pick someone just for show. He insists that even a fake partner has to check all his boxes, but you suspect he’s being overly selective on purpose to delay any potential marriages.

- But he’s never rude about it either. His matches tell you about how he’s always the perfect gentlemen on their dates, how he’s polite even when turning them down at the end of the day. He’s essentially wasting everybody’s time, going through the process for the sake of it while trying to change his family’s mind, but he’s still paying you for your efforts despite everything, so you continue to do your job.

- You tweak Mephisto’s matches with every feedback he gives you, and you start to wonder if there’s anyone he’d be willing take a chance on, even if it’s to play pretend and get his family off his back.

- His little brother tries to help out. The little demon often visits you behind Mephisto’s back, telling you stories and sharing every tidbit of information he can think of to better help you help his brother find happiness. He doesn’t quite understand why Mephisto doesn’t want a partner (he’s used to fairytales with happily ever afters), but he’s determined to make sure his older brother gets his happy ending too.

- One day one of your old clients visits you out of the blue, looking much healthier than when you first found her taking shelter in your office building. She warns you that there’s been unsavory characters loitering in the area recently. She recognizes some of them from her old circles and warns you to be careful.

- You’re no stranger to this. There’s a reason nobles have entourages of bodyguards with them wherever they go, and working so closely with them has put more than one target on your back over the centuries. You always make sure to keep magical wards in the area to warn you when demons with malicious intent have entered the premises, and stash a few teleportation talismans for a quick getaway if needed.

- It’s during one of the days Mephisto’s brother drops by to chat with you that your wards go off. You don’t hesitate to grab the little demon before activating your talismans, teleporting both of you to safety. You don’t reappear in front of your house, no; you don’t know if your own home has been compromised, so you told the frightened demon in your arms to picture the safest place he could think of—

- You land in a puddle of mud in the middle of a nondescript field, barely managing to catch him before he gets all dirtied as well. There’s a stable nearby, and the guards stationed there immediately notice your arrival and surround the two of you.

- Things happen quickly after that. Mephisto’s brother vouches for you even as he’s crying for his sibling, and after verifying your identity and giving a brief rundown of what happened, the two of you are escorted to the family manor.

- Mephisto finds you within the hour, throwing decorum out the window and bursting through the main doors to rush to you and his brother. Poor kid wouldn’t let go of him for the longest time, while you stand quietly in one corner to let them have their moment, not wanting to track mud over the pristine marble floor more than you already have.

- “You kept him safe…” Mephisto acknowledges you with an indescribable look in his eyes and, to your surprise, grabs you in a hug as well, muddied clothes be damned. “Thank you.”

- He promises to personally fund and oversee the repairs, your office having been thoroughly thrashed by the attempted kidnappers when they had trespassed in search of his brother. They’d been stalking him for weeks and knew he often snuck away from his bodyguards to see you, and they thought it’d be a golden opportunity to ransom him for a hefty amount of Grimm.

- Mephisto also prepares a security detail for you, despite you insisting you’re not high profile enough to warrant one. He decides that so long as you’ll be working closely with his family, he’ll make sure you’re protected too.

- Business goes on as usual after that. Mephisto still meets with you to go through his matches, still turns everyone down at the end of the day, but somehow you get the feeling he’s already made up his mind. Sometimes he doesn’t even look at the documents you give him before rejecting the candidate, which kind of annoys you given how much work you’d put in—

- And then his brother tells you that their parents already backed off the marriage idea weeks ago. Whatever phase they were in had passed, and now they were focused on the next big thing in noble society.

- …Oh. Well then.

- The next time Mephisto meets you in your office, you bring up the subject of payment for your services. He confirms that your fee is scheduled to be deposited into your account at the end of the month as usual, but you suggest he takes you out for dinner instead.

- Mephisto pulls at his tie and looks away, only mumbling something about picking you up at 6 before marching out of your office with steam coming out of his ears.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mephistopheles

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ruanbaijie · 8 months ago

Text

I’ve been thinking a lot about KoD/ The Spirealm lately (no surprises there), and I think, after having watched the show two times and read the novel a couple of times, I have an inkling of a theory of what really happened in The Spirealm. And I don’t mean just the ending. I mean what was really going on throughout the entire show. Because when I was doing my rewatch, I noticed that beyond the obvious lines, this show is rife with foreshadowing.

So here’s my theory, with evidence picked out here and there from the show. Beware: this will get very long, and a lot of it might be overthinking on my part (as an INTJ, overthinking is my middle name). There will be spoilers for BOTH the novel and the show, so if you don’t want to be spoiled for either or for both, perhaps you might want to scroll on or save this post for another day.

But, if you’re absolutely curious and totally okay with spoilers… We shall press on.

When I finished the show for the first time, I went “oh god yet another open-ended cdrama ending”, and only had two theories for what that ending meant.

1. Everything had really happened, everyone that had been involved had really gone into the doors. When RNZ managed to cleanse the game, ~somehow~ time got rewound and events got rewritten, and everyone (including those who had died) went back to how they had been before encountering the games, memories wiped clean and all, except for LQS.

2. LQS had dreamed everything up in those few seconds between getting hit by the car and regaining consciousness. The games did not happen in reality at all.

The first one didn’t sit well with me, just because it seemed too damn unlikely. Even if we were to consider advanced technology and all, it just seemed too… far-fetched (for lack of a better word) for such a technology to completely rewind time and rewrite things, including the minds of everyone except LQS.

So I thought well okay maybe it’s Theory 2 which seemed more likely, LQS dreamed up everything and none of it had actually happened, and he spent the next 50 years remaking and rebuilding the entire Spirit Realm. And this theory pained me. Because it meant that after it all, LQS was still alone, and was a RNZ made up with data that LQS had input, who had never “experienced” what they had experienced together, really RNZ at all? Besides, how did LQS manage to dream the names and personalities of so many different people so accurately?

Which leads me to Theory 3, which is actually pretty close to what had really happened in the novel, and also kind of an offshoot of Theory 1, but with a but.

Now, circling back to Theory 1, it’s a chilling thought that something like this could happen in reality. But what if, what if, what we thought was reality reality is not actually reality? Could there be a technology that’s so great it could rewind time and rewrite events and minds… à la The Matrix?

And so, Theory 3, which is the one I strongly believe (with >95% conviction) is what really happened:

THE WHOLE SHOW IS DOOR 12.

My supporting evidence, split into a few sections:

The Forum Scene

More Individual Instances

Common Motifs

What Happened Outside the 12th Door? + Unanswered Questions

A Simple Chronological Diagram

Tidbits

EXHIBIT A: THE FORUM SCENE

This was a very quick cameo of Wu Qi scrolling on the forum and then proceeding to still impersonate as a college-going girl (after the crying baby arc). There was absolutely no reason for this scene to be there, which highlights just how important this little cameo discussing the 12th door is and what it could entail.

A summary of what this says (bolded parts added by myself for emphasis), as far as I can since some parts are blocked:

A Quick Deduction: The Rules of the 12th Door

Everyone says that the higher the level of the door, the closer to reality it gets. That means that the 12th door is extremely close to reality. In the 12th door, your entire world is exactly the same as the real world, and there might even be doors within doors.

The people who enter the 12th door will lose all memories, including those of their relationships, and will exist in the 12th door with the identity of “if they had lived till then without entering the doors”. An NPC will replace the “personality” of the person who enter the doors, and other than their appearance, their personality and identity will be very similar, and the progress rate will be very high. (This sentence is quite blocked out so I don’t really get it.)

Then, the two will meet. Because after waking in the 12th door, one will find themselves in the “1st door”, then meeting place will naturally be in the world of the doors.

After that, the condition to clear the game would be to, under such circumstances, go through the eleven doors all over again.

I know, it’s a forum post, and it was titled “deduction”, but this is exactly what the novel was revealed to be about, and it also explains a lot of the foreshadowing that I started seeing throughout the show.

EXHIBIT B: VARIOUS INDIVIDUAL INSTANCES

Right at the start of the show, even before entering his supposed 1st door, LQS is shown to already have very sharp hearing. If these additional abilities are gifted by the doors to selected people, then why does LQS already have it not just outside the doors, but also even before setting foot into one? Unless, he is not outside the doors, and he has already set foot into not just one, but in fact, several.

RNZ says this line when he is directing LQS to run from the wolf. This is not just a foreshadowing for RNZ’s identity as an NPC, but also hints that the people that RNZ has been “directing” till that point (think all those people in the villa, including the twins, Chen Fei, etc.) were also not “live people”, but NPCs.

After the 1st door, LQS returns to the real world, while still wearing the jacket he had put on in the door. It is later mentioned that only selected props from the doors can be brought out and back in for special uses to be figured out by the players themselves. So how can LQS return to the real world with the jacket, which is never mentioned to be one such prop?

Ah yes, the lovely RNZ fake death scene. It’s a huge piece of foreshadowing for RNZ’s identity, but it might be foreshadowing something more. I’ve wondered, since RNZ is an NPC, if he “died” in one of the doors, would he respawn somewhere else? This quote might be referring to that. But it also sounds very much like he’s hinting to LQS that what he thought was reality was also not reality at all.

In the penultimate episode, LQS, out and about after his accident, running first to the villa to see if RNZ and co. are still there, and then proceeding to question himself if his reality is really reality at all. I think it's at this point he starts to suspect that he's really still in the world of the doors.

The final pre-time leap scene: notice how LQS says find (寻找) the point where reality and virtual world meet, and not create (创造)? Which means that here, LQS has already realised that this reality is not reality at all, but he’s still in the world of the doors. Now, he has to find the point where reality and virtual world meet, i.e. the physical 12th door.

Post-time leap: “including the 12th door”. After spending 50 more years in the 12th door, LQS has finally found the physical 12th door, at the point where reality and virtual world meet.

And when he touches RNZ’s hand, he gets restored to his younger self, because he has solved and unlocked the 12th door and the 50 years that had passed have not really passed at all.

EXHIBIT C: COMMON MOTIFS

1. Kaleidoscopes

Of course, kaleidoscopes. The original intention was definitely as nod to the name of the novel, but they’ve been written into the plot in a different way. Also a clue to RNZ’s identity as an NPC, since the only other ones that have been shown to have kaleidoscopes are the NPCs/ door gods. But, the kaleidoscopes only appeared in the doors, but RNZ has been shown to have them outside the doors. Unless… you know the drill by now.

2. Corridors

In the first episode alone, not one, not two, but four hallways of doors are shown. The first is a straight corridor that starts off the entire show (with credits and all), the second is another straight corridor and is shown to be rotating clockwise, and the third and fourth are the one we’re most familiar with: the one with the doors facing one another like a cross-section of a kaleidoscope. Here’s my theory for each: the first one is the “real” one, the one that LQS walks to get to the 12th door. It starts off the entire show and hints that the entire show is the 12th door. The second one that rotates (see next point on this motif) is the one in the bootleg game that LQS plays in the PC bang. The fourth one is when LQS enters the door world within the 12th door.

Also, this could very well just be an artistic choice, but note how in the poster of the show, the doors are also shown not in the cross-sectional kaleidoscope format, but in a straight corridor.

3. Circularity

I don’t know how to summarise this motif because it’s a combination of a few, but this show has a lot of circles, things in rotation, clock imageries, and the idea of things being in reverse.

The clue that Gao Dawei gives LQS through the kid NPC, “Flower in the water, moon in the mirror” (水中花，镜中月) is actually a reversal of an actual Chinese idiom “Flower in the mirror, moon in the water” (镜中花，水中月), which means a mirage, something that is an illusion. While this is a huge analogy for the whole real world vs. door world theme, it’s also another instance of reversal or something flipped in the show.

Some other examples are the flipped clock in the 11th door, RNZ’s quote in the 11th door about ending at the beginning, and even in the lyrics of that painful song that plays whenever someone dies: “Please don’t rewind time again, for I’m afraid I will do anything regardless of the cost” (请别再倒数时间，我怕我会不顾一切). Now… this idea of circularity, of rewinding time, of going back to the beginning to end… sounds a lot like everything restarting again after LQS emerges from the “11th door” and finding himself in a car accident. Or maybe, just maybe, it also sounds a lot like going back to the first 11 doors to finish the 12th door, doesn’t it?

4. Repeated Phrases

Now these might REALLY just be me overthinking. But Wu Qi mentioned a couple of things in his monologue (side note: this show has some SERIOUSLY GOOD angsty monologues) that made me go… hang on a second. These mentions of “light”, “the meaning of friendship”, and “path” - they were all also brought up in previous conversations between LQS and RNZ. “Light” - so many times (another side note: I find it hilarious that Xia Zhiguang also has the same “light” character in his name, so whenever RNZ says that LQS “has light on him” I get sad at the foreshadowing but I also snicker a bit for Reasons). “The meaning of friendship” - when RNZ and LQS argue over accompanying TZZ into her 6th door.

“Path” - when RNZ and LQS walk under the umbrella in the rain doll arc and RNZ mentions (also foreshadowing) that “legs are longer than paths, and paths will always have an end”. Again, these might jolly well just be coincidences, but my overthinking brain says I think not. Because, if LQS is really still in the door world, then Wu Qi and everyone else around him are really NPCs, and then it makes sense for the system to throw these words that had popped up before, in situations where Wu Qi was never present, right back at him.

5. Premonitions

There are so many of these.

In episode 1, LQS already briefly “hears” the blades of the air vent of the room he had been trapped in with Gao Dawei, even though he’s still in the PC bang and the memory of that kidnapping is not at the forefront of his mind… unless it had already been triggered at some time shortly before that (i.e. in the “real” door whatever number it was when he had met the NPC that revealed the nature of the doors to him).

Just before LQS is hit by the car, he sees a door on the road, that is the same door as one of the two in the 11th door - the one that represents “illusory life”. How did LQS manage to conjure up the image of a door that only appears in his future? Unless, he has already seen the door before in the real 11th door.

BUT that being said, in the same flashes, he does also see the kaleidoscope cross-section style (seriously, I need a better name for this) of doors - the third hallway he sees in the first episode. This one, admittedly, I’m still trying to figure out, since technically, based on the theory I’m working out, at that point, he should not have yet actually stepped into the hallway.

LQS also encounters Li Dongyuan and Xiong Qi in the “real world” before he enters his “1st door”.

And also explains why he could dream the names and personalities of so many different people so accurately before actually meeting them “in real life” (that asshole in the hospital arc - I forgot his name -, Xiao Ke, Chen Fei, the twins, TZZ, Lu Yanxue), including the “real” owner of the villa.

This might also be me overthinking and just be the cast trolling, but the “actual” Spirit Realm game in the “real world” also seems to draw upon elements of what LQS had experienced in his 11 doors in the show, albeit in a more chibi form: from the door and Nanqiu and Toast and Chestnut on the front page, to the kaleidoscope and entering the door on the loading page, and the woman in the rain, Xiao Jiu, rain doll, nurse, and Zuozi characters on the game grid. If this was really the real world, was it really a coincidence that LQS had “dreamed” or “experienced” doors that had these very same elements? Or do we have cause and effect the other way round here, where the “reality” is actually drawing on what LQS had “dreamed” or “experienced” in the doors? I say, it’s no coincidence at all.

EXHIBIT D: WHAT HAPPENED OUTSIDE THE 12TH DOOR? + UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

Now, if the entire show is about the 12th door, then what happened in the real world? In doors 1-11? Well, it could be anything at this point.

Perhaps it’s something closer to the novel, where there’s nothing game-related about it at all, and people get pulled into the doors because they're about to die a sudden death, and the world of the doors is a "gift" for them to fight for that chance to continue living. The whole business is really just a supernatural thing, and the 12th door just happened to take on the setting of a virtual reality game.

Or, perhaps it’s really more like the show, where doors 1-11 happened exactly as they did (or close to) in the show, where LQS had to save the world from the nasty game that had been sullied by the capitalists in Piao Liang Guo (an analogy for the USA, if you haven’t yet realised), but he had to sacrifice his closest friend (read: bosom buddy) for the sake of the greater good.

Again, it could be anything. But I’d like to believe that it’s the latter. Because it goes exactly with the idea of circularity (see Common Motifs), of starting from the beginning again.

But, post that, after everything is said and done, does RNZ end up going to the real world? I really hope so, because I need my happy ending damn it. It was possible in the novel which was more supernatural-coded, so the idea of a door god stepping out of this supernatural door world and into the real one to live with his husband seems a bit more… probable. (I know we’re talking about fiction here but please hear me out it’s like the walrus vs. fairy thing.) But if RNZ is really just made up of data, how the heck does data step out from the virtual world and into the real one? Maybe LQS really does end up making a “body” for him in the real world and takes a few years (or decades) to code him from scratch? But that just kinda goes back to my 意难平 with Theory 2 - is this RNZ really RNZ? Not to mention, the pain of LQS being alone for decades and trying to make RNZ from scratch.

Another unanswered question: what the heck is with LQS’s evolving hairstyle and fashion throughout the show? Is it an analogy for LQS’s changing personality, that even TZZ’s director “friend” mentions in episode 62? Or does it symbolise something else? I really don’t know, at this point.

EXHIBIT E: A SIMPLE CHRONOLOGICAL DIAGRAM

If you’ve managed to read till here, MASSIVE kudos to you. And here’s a simple diagram that I drew on PPT just to illustrate this entire theory, because I was also confusing the heck out of myself and I needed to see it visually to make sense of it.

EXHIBIT F: TIDBITS

These don’t really support Theory 3, but I’m including them anyway because I find them… interesting.

There’s a Yuyu Hakusho book in LQS and Wu Qi’s apartment. Now I’m in no way familiar with that series (I only watched that one live action adaptation of it), but in that series, there also exists a Spirit World (霊界, Reikai), which (ahem Wiki copy and paste) is the world where sentient beings (humans and demons) go after they die; not the equivalent of heaven or hell, but a station in between worlds where a soul's fate is decided. Which sounds… a lot like the premise of the doors in the actual novel.

I also find it extremely punny that the drama changed LQS’s name to Ling Jiushi (凌久时). For one, the characters for Jiushi are the exact ones that mean “long time” - which reminds me of the final exchange that RNZ and LQS have in the show. Also, the fact that his surname is now Ling instead of Lin? Absolutely hilarious… once you realise that the Chinese slang for bottoms in a MLM pair is 0 (零)… pronounced exactly the same way as show!LQS’s surname. And, if you haven’t yet figured out the running thread through this entire damn long ass post by now: coincidence? I think not.

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ghost-bxrd · 9 months ago

Note

What would the canon batfam (or your version of the batfam, since the canon version is… questionable, at times) would think of Fae Dick?

Just imagine someone from the fae world, probably Tim, ends up in a world where Dick is human, and either 1) does not immediately realize that this Dick is human bc every version of Dick Grayson is at least a little unhinged, or 2) takes one long look at him and is like ‘wait you’re HUMAN?’

(Also, Jason learning that Fae Dick killed the Joker/or Fae Dick murdering the joker of the other world bc if other him wouldn’t do it, he sure as hell will)

Honestly if it’s Tim I’d give him exactly one convo to clock canon!Dick as human. There’s just this distinct lack of—- something, about this version of him. Yeah, he’s still his exuberant and uplifting self but??? Where are all the teeth??? (“Excuse me, what?”) And what happened to your feathers?????? (“My what now??”) And why are your eyes so weird?????? (“Excuse you, my eyes are perfectly alright!”)

And of course, there’s the distinct lack of plant- and wildlife in the manor. The doors don’t open and close on their own to let the family members pass, the deer Tim sees on the outskirts of the manor grounds all look depressingly normal and shy away from them, and the trees don’t try to trip him up in a bout of mischief. And, worst of all? Tim now can’t just go through any door in the manor and have it bring him directly to his intended destination. He accidentally walks into a closet many times and just— stands there, in the dark, for several minutes before he realizes that, nope, this really is just a closet and will not magically open up into the kitchens. Damn it.

The canon batfamily all think that Tim is a tragically deranged alternate universe version of their Tim and all discreetly try to “play along” with his delusions (even though canon!dick is totally weirded out about the random tidbits of information Tim drops on them). Not to mention that they’re all very concerned about the mentions of Dick having people eaten by deer and stuff. Or collecting teeth.

All that gets resolved rather quickly tho when Fae!Dick barges into this universe to retrieve his Tim and pops by with his usual many-toothed smile and the Joker’s severed head hanging from one hand, chirping a happy little “you’re welcome!” At Jason, and then promptly hugging the living daylights out of his Tim.

Tim just grins happily and says “teeth!” Very emphatically.

(Jason totally doesn’t cry that another version of his big bro just showed up and killed the Joker for him, nope, not at all.)

(“Timmy, can we-“

“Absolutely not!”

“But he’s sad” :((

“He’s HAPPY, dumbass. You killed the joker for him.”

“Exactly! Other Dick didn’t do it, I did! That means he’s mine now!”

“Dick- NO-“

“Dick, yes!” :)))) )

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

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via @flipwizardstarlight

#OOOOOOH BABY BOY#he has so many scars#glad and also a little disappointed he doesn't have a vivisection scar#would LOVE to see Jason's reaction to THAT little tidbit#like#'who hurt my Tuesday?!' and getting super worried about it#until danny is like 'oh yeah dont worry my friends went a little feral on the people who did that and they don't exist anymore'#and jason is just like 'well damn'#also another fun scene that is cute and sweet and fun idea:#danny hanging out with his hooker friends and didn't realize how late it was getting and someone rolls up tot he curb#tries to get danny thinking he is a new worker and maybe starts getting a little rough about it (just yelling for the moment)#tim was swinging through to find hood for something and is like 'we got a problem here?' and#one of the girls is like 'nah#'Hood's boy lost track of time and this guy was just being rude' and anyway#this is how tim finds out everyone thinks hood and jason are dating and that they have a mutual boyfriend

LOL 1) I am trying desperately to keep not!Writing generally happy lol. Like obviously Danny ended up in Gotham going by Nightingale but people have vote against angst... like I do in other fics. So no vivisection scars.

2) that would be a hilarious way for Tim to meet Danny but

3) I raise it that now Dick thinks Jason is a sugar daddy to Danny, Tim thinks Jason is dating a sex worker as Red Hood, Babs thinks Danny is a flirty tech person for Red Hood, Steph thinks Red Hood is a sugar daddy to Danny etc etc.

Cass has it all figured out as well as the fact that Danny is Not Normal.

#chittering back #dp x dc #dead on main #the fic that i'm not writing

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cinnbar-bun · 9 months ago

Text

The Heartless Giant Pt. 3

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: You try to get the cigar for the giant, and uncover a few tidbits from the past that leave you with more questions than answers....

Notes: Smoking. Uhhhhh don't smoke if you don't want to I know I made it sound cool here but do recognize they're not that cool and also that you don't need to smoke. Reader is kinda convinced to try it once.

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom

Procuring a cigar would not be difficult to achieve. Procuring a cigar that your father would enjoy, however, was a different matter. You had heard your brothers discussing the outrageous costs of them before- they were so expensive and special that other royal or noble families had presented them as gifts or tributes to your father. He rarely ever smoked, but on the few occasions he did, it was always with those expensive cigars.

You knew where he kept them, in a small, cedar humidor in his study on the third shelf. That was the easy part but taking them from the box would be difficult. The humidor was locked with a tiny key, a fact you knew after your brothers attempted to steal from his stash when they were young teenagers. Considering your father was almost always in his study, it would be hard to sneak in and look for the key.

For a moment, you thought about just giving the man in the cell a cheap cigar to stave him off. Surely, he wouldn’t know better, would he?

You sighed and shook your head at your own foolishness. The man was in the lowest cells and could kill you without flinching. Why were you going to test his patience by giving him an obvious fraud? You walked past the door to the study, contemplating what to do next when your father stepped out of the office with a raised brow.

“Ah, (Y/n), good afternoon,” he smiled as his eyes met yours.

“Father, good afternoon,” you smile back, before the gears in your mind start spinning as an idea forms in your head. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just thinking of taking a stroll around the gardens. Care to join me?” He asked politely.

“Sorry, I have to decline today. I was going to read,” you fib to throw him off. “May I see one of your diplomacy books?”

Your father shrugged and motioned toward the door. “Feel free to, the books are always for you to enjoy.”

You grin and thank him, waving him off as he begins to descend to the gardens. You close the door to his study and breathe a sigh in relief. What good fortune you had to have gotten the study clear so easily. You wait a brief moment to make sure your father doesn’t come back before you grab the humidor from the shelf and then rummage through his desk. On top is a bunch of files and reports talking about budgets and possible forecasts- rain should be expected soon as well as a bountiful harvest- and his “lucky” pen he adores so much.

In the drawers is nothing but mementos of you and your brothers. Stationary. More pens. Clips, stamps, ink, folders, and old papers. No key.

You sigh and get frustrated as you open the last drawer, gasping as you see only a flintlock pistol inside. The pistol is shiny, obviously well-kept and maintained. You’ve been into this office many times, yet you never knew such a weapon would be kept here.

It made sense, you tried to assure yourself, but the fact your father always had this pistol and maintained it made a shiver run down your spine. You closed the drawer without a second thought, not wanting to think of the implications of such a thing being in there.

Still, no key. You frantically looked at the shelves for any sign or hint of a key. Nothing. You glanced at the humidor and angrily tried to pry it open with force. Barbaric? Perhaps. It was similar to something your brothers would do, but you knew you didn’t have much time to waste if you wanted to get the answers your mind was screaming for.

Damn that man and his need for expensive cigars!

As you were continuing to scuffle with a box, the door to the study opened wide as your father stood at the door.

You gasped and flung yourself back, accidentally bumping into an armored statue that he had near his desk. You knew you had been caught, your hands were all over the crime scene and the guilty look on your face did nothing to give you even a semblance of plausible deniability. You nervously raised your eyes from the ground to look at your father, but instead of an angry or accusatory expression, he seems quite amused.

“My, my, I didn’t expect you would be so bold as to snoop through my office like that,” he said with a low chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, knowing your cover has been blown. He hadn’t been gone long at all, barely even a few minutes, yet the way he snorted seemed to confirm everything he needed to know.

“You were that desperate to smoke?” He asked.

“No…” you begin.

“Ah. Were you attempting to get them for your brothers?” Your father questions. Your eyes widen when you realize you couldn’t deny it, since he’d get more suspicious of your intentions.

“Maybe,” you lie.

“I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to smoke,” he rubbed his chin. “Then again, I guess it would be silly for me to assume you would remain the same as when you were a young child. Although, lying to me to sneak in did hurt me a bit.”

“How did you know?” You ask. Your father chuckles again.

“You and your brothers have been acting suspicious all day. I figured something must have been going on. I also know that you have plenty of books on diplomacy, many of which I already own here. You would not gain anything new, so I wanted to see what you were really planning.”

You sigh, forgetting that your father- although a noble and gentle man- could be so observant and calculating in his plans. “Well, you weren’t called the ‘Hero King’ for nothing, I suppose.”

“Now, now, I may be your father, but even when I was a young lad, I too liked to indulge in some bad behavior,” your father says, walking over to his shelf. “If you would have looked a bit closer…”

He pulls out a red book titled A Key to Diplomacy and hands it to you. The book is rather light despite its size.

“I don’t really need this-”

“Just open it,” he sagely nods. You’re confused by what he’s trying to do before you open the book and find the inside of it is hollow. In the hollowed book, there is a small key. You pull it out and your father nudges his heads towards the humidor.

“I had it hidden in there since I doubted your brothers would ever try to open a book like that.”

You laugh at the absurdity of this situation as you open the humidor. Your father leans over to grab two cigars and a cigar cutter.

“Two?” You comment, while your father begins to light one up.

“I figured since you were so curious, I could allow you the chance to try one. Lord knows I need one.”

He brings the cigar to his mouth while he hands you the other one. You watch as he inhales the tobacco and exhales a large puff of smoke. The smell is strong, wafting and covering the room in a short amount of time. It’s a bit intimidating, but you continue to watch.

“Do you really feel better after smoking one?” You ask curiously.

“I think I do. Maybe it’s the fact I’m doing something else besides paperwork that eases me. Or maybe I put it in my head that it does. I can’t be certain, but I can assure you that a nice cigar does relax me when times are tough,” your father admits, tapping the cigar against the ashtray.

You look down at the cigar in your hands as your thoughts drift to the man in the cellar. Is that why he was desperate for a cigar of all things? Does it really ease his mind?

“You’re off thinking again,” your father comments.

“What?” You ask, focusing back on your father.

“You’ve had a dazed look on you since the morning. Are you troubled by something?” He asked with a gentle and sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Oh… no, I just was thinking of… things,” you try to say.

“Do you wish to speak of these ‘things’?” “No, father. I’m sorry. I’ll get over it soon,” you reply. After all, once you get the man’s name then… perhaps you can rid him in your mind. Your father shrugs casually and smiles.

“I understand. Do know that I’ll always be there to help you, dear. You are my precious child, a gifted one that I am lucky to have,” his face softens. The compliment makes your cheek flush and your lips curve upwards.

“Thank you, father. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, my child. Now, since we have a few moments to spare, why not catch up with me?”

The talk with your father lasts for a while, with you two discussing random topics of interest. He muses on his rebellious youth, admitting he was a troublemaker. He says he once enjoyed fighting anything and everything, a habit he was lucky to have grown from.

“It might seem strange to admit, even whilst I charge headfirst to battle, but the best weapons one can wield… it is your mind and your heart.”

“Mind and heart?” You say, unconvinced. You do value your mind, but something about the way he said that makes you curious.

“Yes. If I had no conviction or love for my people and kingdom, there would be no kingdom left standing. If I was simply a violent tyrant who enjoyed blood for the sake of blood, there would be no happiness or joy in here. That is what separates humans from beasts. I love with all my heart, proudly and without fear.”

You let his words sink in and mull over them.

The giant below… does he count? Is he worthy of love? Can he love?

“Do you think everyone is worthy of love?”

“Now that’s a good question,” your father hums, looking less like the wise king and more like a regular man with every second of this conversation. “Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don’t. As the king, I make tough choices every day. I would love to be able to forgive and pardon everyone. I would love to have no enemies, no strife, no war- I would love for my position to simply cease from existence as we explore what the world has to offer.”

Your eyes widen as you hear your father’s admission. “You don’t wish to be king?”

“It is a heavy burden, my dear child. It weighs down on you constantly. And deep down, no matter how much I dream of being the ideal king, the best ruler, the kindest and noblest man in the world…” he stands up, pushing his cigar into the ashtray as he has his back face you while he looks out the large window behind his desk. The shadow of his figure covers you, shielding you from the bright light of the evening sun. He reaches his hand out to caress the suit of armor.

“But you are that king, father. You are that- to the people, to me-,”

“You do not understand, my child… once in a while, I think back to those battles, to those wars I’ve fought. I’ve slain and nearly been slain countless times,” he sighs. “I think of the way I was near death, near exhaustion, bleeding, bruised, broken. Sometimes…”

He glances back to you, with a somber smile and blank eyes that sends a chill down your spine. “I miss it.”

You gasp as your father’s eyes return to the warmth it once had as he sits back down.

“I am not the perfect man. That has always been true. But I can do good, and as such, I choose to do so, no matter how the monster within me screams. I am a father, a king, and a leader- I no longer work for myself. I work for my people. And that means I must be stricter with myself.”

Your hands tremble as you grip the cigar and look down at your lap. You don’t know what to think of what your father just said, admitting to the fact that deep down, he enjoyed battles and killing. The gun in his desk, was it for protection, or was it possibly for his desire to return to the days of his old glory? You try to exhale. Your father wasn’t so careless and bloodthirsty. Even though he admitted this, he had also said he restrained himself for his duty.

And yet… why did the thought of his true nature repeat over and over in your mind?

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Your father asks sweetly.

“Y-yes. I am. I asked a question and you answered,” you try and force a smile on your face. “I never knew you thought that way.”

“It does run through my mind on rare occasions. But I do not let it stop me from doing my duty. I truly do love what I do and my life. That is why I fight for it.”

You nod along, eager to take a break from here. “Thank you, father. I think I’ll be leaving, now. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Oh, dear, you’ve made my day better. I enjoy talking with you and listening to you. It makes me feel I’ve done right as a father,” he grins. You feel guilt inside your heart as you glance at the cigar in your hand, knowing you only talked to your father in order to give this to his sworn enemy.

“Father, here,” you give the cigar back to him, not feeling worthy of the smile he has given you. After what he discussed with you, perhaps it was best to drop the subject entirely. Your father, however, pushes your hand back to you and shakes his head.

“I’ve no need for all of these cigars. Please, keep it, whether you intend to light it or not. At least as a memento of my trust for you.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you nod feebly.

“Thank you. I’m happy you trust me.”

Your father chuckles and hands you a cigar cutter and lighter. “For whenever and whatever you decide to do. I will always support you.”

You grip the items in your hand and thank your father again before leaving to your room.

Guilt, guilt, guilt- it eats away at your heart while your mind screams for you to not continue with your plan. There is no point, no worth, no use to seeing that man. Oh, but your heart… but what if he is different than what once was assumed? What if he was simply in need of love? What if all he ever needed was just one more chance?

Do it. No, don’t. We don’t need to be in more trouble.

But can’t we? Why would we?

Oh, damn you! Don’t you see this is difficult?

The two sides of you disagree and argue, until you huff in frustration and grab the items.

Forget it, we’re going.

You sneak back into the dungeons, not even noticing the chills due to your anger at your torn feelings.

You’re an idiot, (Y/n). What good is this? Father said he trusted us, and now look what we’re doing!

“You think too loud,” a voice cuts through your inner thoughts as you look up to come face to face with the giant. He’s smiling, eyeing the things in your hands.

“What do you mean?” You ask in an accusing tone.

“You look as if you’re in a fight, dear. Are you always this lost in thought, your highness?” He mocks you.

“Oh, quiet you, you’ve put me in a rather big bind. You should be thankful I’m even giving them to you,” you frown, holding the singular cigar and cigar cutter to him. He waves his hook dismissively while his one hand expertly cuts the cigar.

“Yes, yes, thank you very much. My�� your father really must have an eye for quality. These are perhaps the best cigars out there,” he says as he examines the cigar. He curls two fingers in a repeating motion. “Lighter,” he commands.

You fumble with the lighter in your pocket and shakily try to ignite it. The man rolls his eyes at your incompetence and guides your hand with his hook to the cigar. The flame slowly roasts the cigar as he takes a deep inhale of it. He immediately throws his shoulders back and lets out a pleasured sigh.

“Ah… oh how I missed this,” he mumbles, his body relaxing.

“Well, are you going to keep your end of the bargain?” You fold your arms.

“Patience. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were desperate to get to know me,” he teases, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. You grimace at the scent while the man revels in your disgust. His hook reaches through the bars again and tilts your chin up. He gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes and a wide smirk. “You look so stressed, your highness. Why don’t you relax?” “I’m not worried about that right now. Besides, I’m fine,” you huff.

“Nonsense. Here, let me help,” he twirls the cigar around to you and holds it in front of you. You glance between it and him while he hums. “What? Never smoked before?” “No,” you admit to him.

“What a shame,” he bemoans, going back to take a puff of his cigar. “And here I thought we were bonding something special. Although, perhaps it’s good you haven’t taken up such bad habits.”

“Really?” “Yes,” he eyes you. “I wouldn’t want you of all people to end up like me.”

“True. Why do you like to smoke so much? You could’ve asked me for anything, yet you chose a cigar of all things.”

“It’s a hard vice to let go of. I once was free to do as I could. Forcefully being unable to pick up one whenever I chose drove me a bit… mad,” he laughs humourlessly. “I find it clears my mind. You look as if you desperately need that.”

He faces the cigar to you once more. You feel your previous conviction falter when he gives you that eager look and nods his head for you to try it.

“I guess once could not hurt…” you begin as you grab the cigar and put it to your mouth. You inhale a large amount of the smoke before you feel your lungs screaming. You remove the cigar quickly and cough out puffs of smoke, wheezing while the man pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You really are too much, sometimes. You don’t breathe it in to your lungs,” he chastizes you, grabbing the cigar from you. “You breathe it in, hold it in your mouth, let the taste settle on you for a few seconds, then exhale. This is expensive stuff, not a cheap joint.”

He shows you the motions and hands it back to you. You cough once more before trying it again, just the way he did it. You exhale some smoke, thankfully not choking, but not enjoying the taste.

“I don’t get it. It tastes like crap.”

“It’s an acquired taste. Maybe you should bring me another, and we could try again.”

“Absolutely not, I’m not going to do all that again to try and smoke some lousy cigar. You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Crocodile,” he casually states. “Hah, hah, how funny. Be serious,” you frown. He shrugs and continues to smoke.

“Oh well. You don’t believe me.”

“There’s no way you are named Crocodile. That’s a ridiculous name. Not to mention, that was once from the hero of-”

“Alabasta?”

“Yes! Alabasta! And that…” your eyes widen as you see his shoulders bounce due to his laughter. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. It’s not my fault you don’t take my word.”

“Then why is a hero in this jail?”

“Reasons. Reasons you will not know or understand,” his voice evens out, looking down at the floor.

“What, am I supposed to give you something, then you’ll tell me?” “I’m afraid my motivations can’t be bought, my dear,” Crocodile admits. “Entice me with something, though, and I may change my mind.”

“I don’t think I have anything ‘enticing’ to offer.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong…” he leans in closer to you and eyes you up and down. “Perhaps another time.”

“What? What are you-”

“Mmm, nothing. It’s just a thought came to mind.”

You roll your eyes at his vague words. “Never mind, I can see how someone as cruel as you ended up here.” “And yet you keep coming down to talk to me, dear. Why don’t you give me your name as well, since it’s obvious you are interested in me.”

“I am not. I am just repaying the favor from before,” you quickly correct him.

“My mistake, yes, that’s what’s going on.”

“I don’t like your attitude!” Your face flushes as you fan yourself. “It’s (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)...” Crocodile repeats, like a prayer. “I will admit, it is definitely a beautiful name. Far better than Crocodile, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. (Y/n), it sounds like royalty. It fits you well, your highness.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, unsure of why your heart is elated he was complimenting your name.

“Would you look at the time, your highness,” Crocodile states after a few quiet moments. “You should be getting back upstairs. I’m sure your father would be wondering where you are. He wouldn’t want to find you messing around down here, now would he?”

“Right,” you shake your head, pushing aside all the strange feelings inside you. However, despite him saying you should go, you find yourself reluctant to move from your spot in front of him. Crocodile chuckles and this time, reaches to you with his right hand. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and looks down at you.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit me, your highness.” “Who said I wanted to?” you lie.

“Perhaps I’ve mistaken your feelings again,” he plays along. “Although, you could always keep me company. It’s very lonely down here.” “No. You have nothing else you wish to share with me,” you retort.

“I did say if you entice me, I might change my mind. And what is more enticing to a prisoner trapped here for life than a companion?”

You shouldn’t do this. But then you see those dark eyes and you feel tempted to try and learn.

“I can see that…” “You’re very kind, (Y/n),” Crocodile says as he removes his hand from your face. “Now run along. But don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #reader insert #x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #crocodile #the heartless giant #heartless giant

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