#How To Master Front End Development

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master List

The Worst Morning Of Your Life (so far)

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. You’re hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.”

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That is all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, cumminng hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started.

_

alright folks, I've got a sequel in the works but can't decide on the vibes (there'll be smut regardless): READ PART 2 HERE

[deebris]

The Mysterious Visitor 2

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: The unknown child evokes conflicting feelings in Bruce Wayne, who once again finds himself needing to deal with Talia's life problems. The girl only wanted the simple desire to see her brother again, unaware of the danger she had put herself into on her journey.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad; Bruce is intimidating; Hugo Strange mentioned.

Word count: 2.8k

Note: I feel like maybe I could have developed a more emotional scene between Bruce and the reader, I also want to delve deeper into her thought process, but I hope to make up for that in the next part.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Alfred could finally check the exact time now that he was standing in front of Bruce's room, admiring for a few seconds the clock in the corridor's decoration, which showed 4:17 am. He prepared to knock on the door, but suddenly a thought crossed his mind: would it be more rational to wake Damian instead of his father? Throughout his life, he had faced unusual situations thanks to the Wayne family; hardly anything would shake him now. His concern, however, was not for himself, but for Bruce.

Talia was a persistent shadow in Bruce's past, still haunting him, and although he had tried to convince the butler many times that the only link he had with her now was because of their son, Alfred still doubted it. Their relationship had been complicated in many ways, either because of her ambiguous nature or Ra’s al Ghul's insistence on trying to persuade Bruce to join the League of Assassins, making Alfred fear that Bruce's morals might deviate because of this passion at the time.

Alfred raised his fist to knock three times and waited patiently as was his custom, but it seemed that was not enough to wake his master. He knew the door was open and knew he was allowed to enter without knocking, so just this once he used the liberty the young man had given him over the years; because in the end, Bruce Wayne was just that, a young man, and would always be seen that way by him.

Inside the room, he turned on the light, and the intense glare made him close his eyes to avoid the sting of the brightness. Approaching the bed, he sighed at the sight of Zolpidem pills left on the nightstand. This had been the only way Bruce found to stop spending sleepless nights, reluctantly since he was too stubborn and preferred to patrol in the darkness. Waking him would be a difficult task.

"Master Bruce," he called, waiting for a response, but got nothing. Alfred felt sorry for waking him, seeing how he finally seemed to be resting. "Master Bruce," he called again, this time nudging his shoulder. The pills must have been wearing off because he started to stir on the mattress.

"What’s going on, Alfred?" Bruce asked in a hoarse voice while rubbing his eyes to relieve the discomfort from the lamp. He sat up in bed, leaning his back against the headboard, blinking several times to see the butler in the corner. One of the room's curtains was open, and he saw the snow falling outside with the dark sky, showing that it was still night. "Is it Hugo Strange? Has he shown up somewhere?"

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, no, sir." Alfred paused, then licked his lips, preparing to continue and finally revealing, "There's a young lady downstairs who claims to be Master Damian’s sister." Direct, as always.

"Sister of Damian?" Bruce repeated the information, still not fully comprehending its meaning. He needed some time, just standing there absorbing the words. It seemed to be taking an eternity, but Alfred wouldn't interrupt the moment of clarity he was having.

He squinted, pushed the covers aside, and picked up the shirt he found nearby. Buttoning it up and getting out of bed, he continued, "When did this happen?"

"Just now, sir."

"Did Damian bring her here?" The question had a bitter tone but never crossed the line of respect that was drawn between them, and Alfred knew he should prepare for his interrogation. Bruce saw the alarm clock and, like the butler a few minutes ago, checked the time. "He never mentioned anything like this."

"Nor to me." Alfred suddenly extended a coat for him to take. Bruce held the fabric between his fingers, confused. "This coat is hers. There’s a map of Gotham City and a letter inside. I recommend you take a look at the addressee."

Pulling the papers from the right pocket, Bruce noticed a map folded into many smaller parts and a letter witch was still sealed, though the corners were noticeably crumpled and marked by small fingers. Carefully analyzing the cursive handwriting, he read. "I had no idea Damian still had contact with his mother. Much less that Talia had a daughter," he said, still drowsy, staring at the name 'Talia Head,' to whom the letter was addressed and recognizing his son’s elegant handwriting. Apparently, she still used the alias surname.

"It's not surprising considering you only discovered your son after so many years." The statement could have easily been interpreted as irony, but it was acidic. "She didn’t seem sure Damian lived here; I suppose she found out because of this letter."

"You left her alone downstairs?" he ignored the previous comment.

"I left her in Master Dick's care."

Bruce stared at him for long seconds and hurried out of the room. Halfway down the stairs, he could already see some glimpses of Dick's hair over the back of the sofa, talking to someone, or rather, laughing with someone.

"Dick?" The voice quickly caught his attention, turning his face to see his father approaching. When Bruce stood in front of the fireplace, he could finally look at the child beside the boy. Dick began to say something, but Bruce couldn’t hear. 

He stared at the girl, analyzing everything about her, from the way she intertwined her fingers nervously to her deer-like eyes. Her iris were shining, as if she had cried, and her swollen and bruised lips were quite noticeable. She had definitely been outside not long ago, shaking and rubbing her hands together constantly to warm herself up. She seemed too sweet, but Bruce knows that appearances can be deceiving.

His gaze passed over the pendants hanging from her bracelet, a simple detail that caught him off guard. Two crossed swords and a demonic head, he understood well what they meant; they were some of the symbols of the League of Assassins, the third was a simple "T" surrounded by a moon. He shouldn’t have been surprised, Talia was a possessive woman and he knew that the "T" was her way of marking property.

"Her name is Y/n," he heard Dick say after a long time.

You noticed how this man's eyes went dark while he watched you and couldn’t help but shrink back on the sofa. It was impossible to hold his gaze, and you began to feel ashamed of being stared at for so long.

"Y/n, this is Bruce Wayne."

"What do you want?" That came out ruder than he intended, but his aversion to the League of Assassins stirred a certain anger. The idea that this could all be a trap crossed his mind. You might be young and exude innocence, but you must have enough understanding to participate in their malicious plans.

"I just wanted to see my brother," you said with sadness in your voice, questioning yourself if this whole situation was worth it. Bruce knew the best way to confirm if this was all true would be by his son’s word, but the signs were so explicit that it might not even be necessary.

You don’t look anything like her, at least at first glance, but you wore her favorite colors and clothes so perfectly matched that no girl your age could choose yet, exactly to Talia's taste and with the appropriate youthful touch for your age. The pendants, the cut of your hair, literally everything had her touch. It was impossible for anyone to convince him otherwise.

"Go get Damian." He said, and Dick understood that the message was for him. Bruce needed to make sure you were telling the truth, or at least needed to make sure you weren’t dangerous. This could still be a League scheme or some plot by your mother.

"Can I see him?" Your voice was the loudest you had spoken that night. The excitement was clear, and it was so much that irrationally you stood up to follow Dick, but a calloused hand suddenly wrapped around your torso and stopped you, making your back hit a slightly prominent belly. You looked up and saw the old man again, his expression was not happy, and you realized it was directed at Mr. Wayne, who had an arm extended towards you but that never managed to touch you.

Like his face, his arm was tense, with visible veins and contracted tendons. You didn't know what his intentions were, but by the way the old man grabbed you to prevent him from laying hands on you, maybe he wasn't as good as he or Dick. It was a very scary sight., making you feel that this man could be dangerous. Trusting the old man, you turned to hug him, hiding as much as possible. Mr. Wayne’s aura was dark, very unfriendly, but you still saw how he recoiled with his face displaying a certain sense of regret.

Dick noticed Alfred's sudden movement behind him before he could leave the room. He glanced at their faces and for a moment considered whether it would be appropriate to turn back and mention the conversation he had with you to the butler in secret, but then his eyebrows furrowed thinking of Damian. Maybe he should confront the little demon first.

"Don’t do anything stupid, Bruce." Dick thought.

Frantically he knocked on the boy’s door. One, two, three, four times until he lost count. At no point did he hear any noise inside, so he began to turn the doorknob, only to find it was locked.

"Of course he’d lock it, that brat..."

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Tim's bedroom door behind him opened abruptly, making a sliver of light from inside illuminate the opposite wall. He was obviously irritated at being woken up but still had that tone of seriousness he carried most of the time.

"Where's his room key?" Dick completely ignored his brother's attitude.

"Forget it. I heard him sneak out to patrol again." Tim's voice sounded tired.

"And you let him?!" Dick snapped but reminded himself to contain it, remembering that Jason was sleeping in one of the rooms in that wing and that you three downstairs might hear the commotion. "Why didn’t you stop him?"

"And what good would it do? That boy is too stubborn." Tim tried to defend himself. "Besides, I have his location right here. He’ll be fine." He opened the door a bit more to show one of his computer monitors tracking the trajectory and heart signals of a green dot on the streets of Gotham City.

Dick looked both ways down the hallway before pushing Tim back into his room and closing the door.

"Hey, what's this? Why are you acting so weird?" Tim was startled by Dick's unusual behavior, feeling anxious as he watched him go to the computer to check Damian's exact location, observing the dot on the screen moving. Dick pressed a button, likely an emergency notification to get Damian to return home. Then he turned to Tim, gripping his shoulders and looking at him with intense seriousness.

"Tim, what I'm about to tell you might be a lot to take in, and I need you to try to understand as much as possible." Dick pointed a finger in his face, waiting for confirmation.

"You're scaring me like this. What the hell happened?"

"No questions and no interruptions! Understood?" Dick's tone was authoritative, stepping back only when he saw Tim nodding affirmatively.

"Why the hell is everyone awake downstairs? Did someone die or something?" Jason barged into Tim's room without ceremony, trying to make a joke, but when he saw the ghostly expressions on their faces, he quickly shut the door again, this time with him inside the room. "My God," he exclaimed in shock. "Can I join in on your little secret?" he asked ironically.

"Did you see the girl?" Dick asked Jason nervously, with a certain expectation.

"Yeah. I saw a girl with Bruce and Alfred. But they didn't see me, since I went back upstairs. The mood down there is pretty tense." Jason threw himself on the bed, making the mattress bounce and Tim frown in displeasure. "I think Alfred is going to give him a lecture afterwards."

"She's Bruce's daughter."

Jason propped himself up on his elbows, and Tim had to sit in the computer chair. His mouth formed a perfect 'O' as he struggled to believe Dick's words.

"With who this time?" Jason seemed to be reacting better than Tim to the news, even letting out a light laugh. It was a typical, caustic Jason response.

"That's not all." Dick ignored his comment. "She said she's Damian's twin."

Tim let out a short whistle, processing the idea like a complex calculation. "Tell this story from the beginning, Dick. Why did she show up now?" He finally managed to rejoin the conversation. It took a while for the shock to pass, but now he had his usual rational demeanor.

Dick rubbed his hands over his face, trying to recount the night and organize the information. "Apparently, she doesn't even know Bruce is her father. And he doesn't know about it either."

"Damian also never mentioned having a sister."

"Damn. Hiding one kid for a decade is something, but two?" Jason stared at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, a strange sensation taking over the room. But seeing the melancholic expression on Dick's face, his curiosity grew even more. "What else do you know, huh Dick?" He questioned him, sensing there was something much deeper behind this, and his brother just gave him an enigmatic look.

"She said she came here to see Damian. That she found out where he was because of a letter he wrote to Talia..." Dick suddenly froze, pulling a little box from his pocket as if it were a dangerous bomb. "While we were talking, she said a man had helped her get here. He gave her a map and asked her to deliver a present to Bruce, but she gave it to me to deliver." He handed the beige little box to the two, but it was Tim who took it.

Whatever it was, it was very well wrapped.

"Is it right to open it?" Tim asked. "I mean, it's for Bruce, isn't it?"

"I already opened it." Dick said bluntly. "I thought it might be a trap, I was careful."

"Give it here." Jason took the small box from Tim's hands. It was the same size as an engagement ring box, perfect for carrying in a pocket. He pulled the lid off and took out a card, freezing when he read it.

"What does it say?" Tim was curious, taking the card from his hands and reading it out loud:

'I sent your daughter home as a demonstration of my benevolence. Merry Christmas, Batman. Signed, H.S.’

"Holy shit," Jason exclaimed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "That bastard figured out Batman's identity."

"Even worse: he knew about her before we did." Tim added reflectively, his voice barely a whisper. "That means he knows much more than just Batman's identity. He might know other things, including our identities. He probably suspects we are also vigilantes."

"I want to hear the whole story properly." Jason's intensely serious voice broke the silence that had settled in the room, determined to fully understand the appearance of this girl and how she got involved with Hugo Strange.

Dick took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "Alright, here it is. Minutes ago, Alfred and I woke up because a girl showed up at the manor claiming to be Damian's sister. She told me that she had a map of Gotham and a letter addressed to Talia from Damian. Alfred brought Bruce to her, and then I went upstairs to call Damian, but I discovered that he's out on patrol. And now we're here."

Tim interrupted, "Wait, so Damian's been in contact with Talia and didn't tell us?"

"That's what it seems like," Dick confirmed, rubbing his temples. "The girl didn't even know Bruce was her father. She mentioned that a man helped her get here and gave her a map along with a present for Bruce."

Jason leaned forward even more. "And this man was Hugo Strange."

"Not xactly, he could have sent someone else." Dick nodded. "The present was that card. Strange knows about her and about Bruce being Batman. He sent her here as some twisted gift."

Tim, processing the information, asked, "Did she say anything about why Strange would do this? What does he gain from sending her here?"

"She didn't seem to know much about Strange's intentions," Dick replied. "She just wanted to see Damian. But it’s clear that Strange knows a lot more than he's letting on. He must have some larger plan in mind."

Jason clenched his fists, his anger palpable. "So, this girl is just a pawn in his game. We need to figure out what his endgame is."

"Agreed," Dick said. "But first, we need to make sure she's safe and find out everything she knows. We also need to talk to Damian and see what tell us about all this."

Tim nodded, adding, "And we have to stay vigilant. If Strange knows this much, we can't underestimate him. He could have more moves planned."

Jason stood up, his determination evident. "We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone gets hurt."

"But what about Talia? Did she just let her daughter go out there, be deceived by a stranger, and then simply come here?" Tim pointed out. "And you, Dick? Are you going to tell Bruce?"

Suddenly, the sound of someone tapping on the window glass was heard. The three brothers turned their heads to see Damian, clad in his Robin attire, asking to come in. "Open up already, you idiots."

Tag list:

@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius

@rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs

@idonthaveanameforthisacc @azulawayne @nciolisa @lovelywritersgarden

@spideybv28 @faimmm @formula-space @cherry-peach-flavored

🍒

@nebuluma

Credits for the divider: @cafekitsune

[beifong-brainrot]

People will go on about how "Katara's story is a tragedy" because she... ended up marrying the guy she loves, having children and grandchildren which she was always excited about and literally becoming a master waterbender and rising to the top of her field as a healer.

Yes, Katara's story has tragic aspects to it. And there are certainly flaws in how she is written in tlok (Though I will argue that there are actually more issues with how Toph and Zuko are just plopped in there for no reason in later seasons). And her storylines aren't perfect, for example her resolving her trauma around the murder of her mother being more used to prop up Zuko than her own internal turmoil. (Most of TSR is from Zuko's perspective and I hate that actually)

"Katara's story is a tragedy" Why do you have such a hard on for this woman's misery? Let her be happy, man.

You know what gaang girlie's life is an actual onscreen tragedy?

Toph's!

People will fucking downplay Toph's childhood abuse because she wasn't physically hurt, but her childhood was a never ending carousel of abelism, misogyny, neglect and isolation. The way Toph describes her parent's treatment of her as "pressure and pain" is heartbreaking.

Toph's only escape was Earth Rumble and earthbending, but despite her skills, she remained the perfect little lady her parents always wanted her to be. She's never known a different life, and she was only able to be her real self in secret.

And when Toph finally opens up to her parents, when she finally lays her real self bare in front of the people who are supposed to love and care for her?

She is met with what may be, in my opinion, the cruellest rejection in the show.

Despite this, even when Toph runs away, she still cares for her parents' approval. Hell, she's even lured into a trap due to her getting a forged letter from her mom and getting excited because it looked like her mom was finally accepting her.

It's also important to note how determined to be self sufficient and to prove herself Toph is. We can especially see this right after she joins the Gaang, where she refuses to participate in splitting with the rest of the group, insisting on "pulling her own weight". This isn't Toph being a brat, or spoilt, this is her wanting to prove that she can handle herself because people have handled and understimated her her entire life.

Eventually, Toph starts to learn to trust the members of the Gaang and this is a step in the right direction. She's literally making friends for the first time in her life I'm so proud of her.

However, I was genuinely upset when Toph's life changing field trip with Zuko didn't work out. When Toph was trying to connect with Zuko and he blew her off (I'm not blaming him tho they had shit to do), I couldn't help but remember the rejection Toph suffered from Lao.

Post canon, Toph continues to try and prove herself, starting a metalbending school and training new metalbenders.

She also reconciles with her father. Not before Lao disowns he rmultiple times and calls her a rude, ungrateful thing. And while he eventually comes to understand Toph and cherish her, that type of trauma sticks with you.

So it's no wonder really that Toph, someone who went her entire childhood seemingly without even speaking to someone her age, would have trouble forming connections. She has children with two different men, neither of which seem to stick around.

Toph tries to do right by her daughters and gives them the freedom she never got. Sadly, the pendulum swung too far to the other side, since it seems that she started to neglect her daughters, which led to them developing a sleugh of issues of their own.

Toph becomes the cheif of police, which kind of makes sense. Republic City was only slowly emerging as an actual metropolis. Toph took on a role as a protector, and probably as a way to prove herself. But as Republic City grew, Toph probably realised that she became something she hated. A cog in the machine, and started to despise her job.

Searching for a semblance of the freedom and happiness her travels afforded her in her childhood, Toph leaves the city and takes up the life of a hermit in a swamp. She managed to fix her relationship with Suyin to some extent, but still seems reluctant or simply unable to connect with her daughter or grandchildren. Since she apparently hasn't seen Opal, a grown 20 year old woman since she was a little girl.

On the surface old Toph doesn't seem terribly dissimilar to young Toph, still tough and spunky. But she is more jaded, depressed and pessimistic. She comes out to save Suyin from immediate harm and manages to somewhat reconcile with Lin, but then she fucks right back off to the swamp where she seems to literally hide until Wu and Korra straight up force her to come with them.

Toph's story began with her alone and it seems to end with her alone as well. It's a story of a girl who grew up isolated and handled by others, and was woefully unprepared for the real world, which only jaded her further. She lives with the guilt of fucking up her daughters' lives and a belief in the pointlessness of life.

Toph started off longing to experience the world and ended up willingly isolating herself from it.

If that isn't a tragedy, I'm not sure what is.

Mind you, this is not the trauma olympics. I'm not saying that Toph has suffered more than Katara or that Katara's trauma is not as valid as Toph's. Katara and Toph's experiences are completely different, Katara being a victim of genocide and war, Toph being a victim of child abuse. I'm just saying that, objectively, Katara had a happier 'ending' than Toph.

[kitkatkitzune]

CLAUSTROPHOBIA

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!reader

Summary: When you’re trapped in a tiny space with Kol, you find out one of his fears.

Warnings: Panic attacks, PTSD, a bit of angst, fluffy ending, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (big shock, I know)

Notes: This isn’t as sad as I wanted it to be to be honest but that’s okay… This is based on the idea that due to being daggered and locked in the coffins that the Mikaelsons develop claustrophobia.

Word Count: 1.4k

MASTER POST , TVDU MASTERLIST

———————

Your parents had told you stories of the infamous Mikaelson family and you did everything in your power to stay off their radar. Unfortunately for you, your best friend Hayley got pregnant with Klaus Mikaelson’s child, effectively dragging you into their mess.

You tried your best to minimize contact with them but being that Hayley was practically your sister, it was inevitable that you’d have to be around them. That didn’t mean you had to like it, but for the most part, it was okay. Rebekah was friendly and always excited to have another girl around, Elijah was very formal and respectful, Klaus was too concerned with his child to be bothered by you, but Kol…

Oh, how you hated Kol Mikaelson. He was rude and arrogant, always desperate for attention. That wasn’t the worst though, not only was he incredibly entitled but he was also a flirt. You hated the fact that he could make your face heat up by shooting you a wink or smirking. Not to mention the constant pet names. He would always laugh after, poking fun at how shy you’d get. You hated the effect he had on you and the fact that deep down you knew you didn’t really hate him.

Which is why you repeatedly press the ‘close door’ button on the elevator panel when you see him walking down the hall towards you. In a flash, he’s next to you, leaning on the handrail with a cheeky smile.

“Hello darling.”

Damn vampires and their super speed.

You sigh, dropping your hand to your side as you stare ahead of you, not wanting to feed into his game. To you, he was flirting with you to make fun of you, just as the boys in middle school had done and maybe if you ignored it, he’d stop. The elevator begins to descend, only a few more moments and you’d be out of here.

Kol was not giving up that easily though, he leans closer, “Hi.”

Reluctantly, you turn to look at him with a glare, “Hi Kol.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, “So darling, I was thinking—“

He’s cut off when the elevator comes to a screeching halt.

“What was that?” His voice sounds panicked (something you don’t notice) and he takes a step back from you, pressing his back to the wall, his hands gripping the handrail so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

Startled, you reach forward and press the emergency button on the elevator, “I think… we’re stuck.”

“Stuck?” he questions, voice above a whisper.

“Yes Kol.” you hiss, still not picking up on his mood change.

You sigh, pressing the emergency button again, “They’re probably going to take forever. We’re going to be stuck for a bit…” you mumble.

Silence follows, making you furrow your brows. Kol never shuts up, never.

“What?” you ask, still not turning around, “No flirty comment about how we could pass the time? I’m shocked…” You trail off, turning around to look at him. His entire body is tense, his eyes squeezed shut while he begins to hyperventilate.

“Kol…” You mumble quietly.

Then the lights go out and the handrail he was holding snaps off the wall causing you to jump back.

“Kol!”

His eyes snap open, immediately focusing on you as the emergency lights turn on, still, he doesn’t say anything. His breathing is labored as he slides down the wall of the elevator. You kneel in front of him and he buries his face in his hands, still shaking.

“Kol… What's happening? Talk to me.”

“Don’t make me go back there…” his voice cracks as he begins to sob into his hands, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… I can’t go back… I can’t…”

You reach forward, placing your hands on his, causing him to flinch before looking at you once again.

“Hey… just… try and copy me…” you say softly, taking a deep breath.

Kol mimics the action and you smile, “Good, again…”

You repeat this process until he has mostly calmed down, he was still sweating and tears stained his cheeks.

“Are you okay now?” you ask quietly, still holding his hands.

Kol seems to snap back to reality, pushing your hands away and looking to the side, anywhere but you, “I’m fine,” his voice cracks as he speaks.

“Talk to me, that’s—“ you begin to speak but he interrupts you.

His gaze snaps back to you, “Why? So you can mock me?”

“Kol I wouldn’t—“

“Don’t lie, I know you’re not a fan of me, darling.”

You scoff, “Just because I…” you trail off a bit, not wanting to say ‘don’t like’, which was weird because you could tell yourself in your head, all the time, how much you hated him. But you couldn’t say it outloud, “…doesn’t mean I’m cruel… I don’t want to make fun of you, I want to understand.”

“Well you should make fun. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. I’m an original vampire, this…” he motions to his current state, “should not be happening. Now you know I’m weak, that I’m scared… I shouldn’t be!”

You frown, “You’re scared of elevators?”

“Small spaces… small dark spaces…” he corrects, focusing on your face that was lit by the emergency lights. He needed to focus on anything but the walls that seemed to be closing in around him. You were a welcome distraction, keeping him grounded.

Your eyes widen in realization, “The daggers… coffins…”

Kol’s jaw clenches, “Don’t… I don’t… I…”

“Okay, okay!” You say quickly, panicking a bit, “I… hopefully we’ll be out of here soon… in a big, open space.”

“I hate these metal death boxes.” he murmurs, “I am fascinated by modern technology but these things…”

“Then why did you get on?”

“…To talk to you… I just wanted to talk to you, I like talking to you.”

The corner of your mouth twitches, “You like talking to me?”

He hums, letting his head fall back to the wall, closing his eyes and you sigh, your smile faltering a bit, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

Kol opens one eye, “You make it so easy to tease you… and well, modern flirting… it’s confusing…”

Your eyes widen, “Flirting? You’re… you’re flirting with me?! Like genuine interest in me?!”

“Thought it was obvious…” he mumbles.

“Kol! You flirt like a middle school boy! I thought you were making fun of me!“

“I was just teasing—“

The elevator jolts, causing you to launch forward, crashing into Kol whose hands shoot out to brace you as your hands fall to his chest. The normal lights begin to flicker and come back on, allowing you to see the position you’ve ended up in. Finally, the elevator begins to move causing you both to sigh in relief.

“Thank God.” Kol breathes out, and his usual smirk paints his face again, “Although, I do like this position, darling…” referring to the fact you were practically sitting on his lap.

You roll your eyes as your face heats up, causing Kol’s smirk to grow but for the first time you pay attention to his eyes. He’s looking at you with such adoration and you wonder if he’s always looked at you that way.

The elevator dings, signaling that you had arrived at the first floor and Kol is off the ground in seconds, offering you his hand, “C’mon, let’s get off this death trap.”

You gladly accept his hand, both of you exiting as soon as the doors open and you can visibly see the tension melt away from Kol.

“Better?”

“Much. I’m never getting on one of those bloody things again… only stairs from now on.”

You sigh, “I hate stairs…”

“I’ll carry you,” he declares and you playfully roll your eyes.

Kol notices the look on your face and continues, “I’m serious,” he looks down at you, his expression suddenly very serious, “about the carrying you and about what I said… I do like you…”

You smile softly, “Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought…”

“Or maybe I’m worse,” he widens his eyes dramatically.

“I doubt it,” you giggle before sighing, “Kol?”

He hums in response so you continue, “If you want to talk about it… about the fear… I’ll listen.”

Kol smiles slightly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head and you stare at him in awe because of the sweet gesture.

“Perhaps one day, darling… for now, though, I’d like to get a coffee, care to join me?”

A small smile appears on your face and you giggle a bit, “Kol Mikaelson, is this your way of asking me on a date?”

“Maybe? Depends on what you’d say…”

“Well, I think I’d say yes.”

“Well, then I think I’d say it’s a date.”

[cookies-after-dark]

I'm not sure if this has been asked, but I like to think about Black Sapphire and Y/N doing the deed and Shadow Milk popping out of nowhere(the door was and still is locked) and just joining them, much to everyone's dismay.

By the end of it, poor Y/N and Black Sapphire is drained of their energy and stamina, but Shadow Milk is still hard and heals them so that they can keep going(or Shadow Milk goes and find Truthless Recluse, leaving Black Sapphire and Y/N soggy and drenched in their fluids in the bed)

What do you think about this entire scenario conjured by my wandering imagination?

Also may I be 🌸🪽 anon?

additional tags: explicit content, beast x ancient, overstimulation, caught in the act, gender neutral reader

ships: black sapphire cookie x reader, shadow milk cookie x reader, truthless recluse x reader, shadow milk cookie x black sapphire cookie, shadow milk cookie x truthless recluse

(author's note): you now have been faithfully dubbed as 🌸🪽 anon. go forth with your new title and spread peace and love and chaos wherever you step.

'...much to everyone's dismay' I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe your dismay, but Black Sapphire is quite delighted to have his master stop by with his spontaneous intrusion.

Every situation I think of with Black Sapphire always has me think of the reader as grouchy and irritated (for the comedy); so I'll just go with that and say that the reader just wanted a quickie, just one damned quickie, and in comes the Biggest Source of all your problems to make what was supposed to just be ten minutes into hours.

Shadow Milk Cookie outright ignores your enraged shrieks at him to get the fuck out (the piece of shit even seems to enjoy them) and just plops right down on the fluffy bed with a hand under his chin, cheerily telling the two of you to continue; "Don't mind little ol' me~!"

Whatever. What-the-fuck-ever. You're still aroused and you refuse to let Shadow Milk Cookie embarrass you, especially in front of one of his fanatics.

Black Sapphire Cookie on the other hand, is very much enjoying the new development and suddenly finds the energy to go a second round. He even cums more quickly this time, making sure to bend you over before Shadow Milk so he can see the white mess he painted your back and asscheeks with.

"Ahh, splendid~! My turn, now; I want to cum on their chest, next." You weren't surprised at all that Shadow Milk volunteered himself to join; he was leering at you the entire time and running his tongue over his lips and teeth like an upsetting freak of nature. He'd pulled his cock out of his tights around the fourth time Black Sapphire was fucking you and made sure you saw him jacking off to your little show.

Whatever. What-the-fuck-ever. Let Shadow Milk have his fun. You'd suck the black, bitter soul right out his balls and shrivel up his dick like a raisin. Just you wait and see.

...Wooooow, you managed to keep up that spite-fueled stamina of yours for quite some time! You lost count of how many times Shadow Milk spanked your pretty ass red, or how many gallons of hot cum he made you swallow, or how many surprising positions he'd folded you into. He just kept going and going and going. Black Sapphire would have fucked himself to death out of a strong duty to please his master if Shadow Milk hadn't waved him off an hour prior.

When Shadow Milk found it accurate to describe you as a dead fish, he kissed you on your sweat soaked forehead and let you roll around in a miserable kind of afterglow before he got up and left without even bothering to put his clothes back on, humming a merry tune all the way. Black Sapphire Cookie had at least enough strength to snicker at you.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, you felt a clawed finger playfully poke your cheek and opened your eyes to Shadow Milk eagerly presenting a fourth contender. You hadn't the foggiest how he managed to convince Truthless Recluse to leave his room until you saw the way he was looking down at you.

"Surpiiiiiise~!" Shadow Milk Cookie grinned deviously at you with all teeth, slowly leaning forward to grip at Truthless Recluse's hard dick to pump it. "I found us a buddy to help us keep rolling along! You'll be feeling good as new in a jiffy! ...He won't be able to empty your belly, though. Let's hope you aren't too full of cum~!"

Despite Truthless hissing and slapping Shadow Milk Cookie's hand away, you could see he was pretty eager to heal your poor, sore, throbbing body... and help rough it up again.

Whatever. What-the-fuck-ever.

[elipri]

Oh man this chapter was hilarious, I laughed so much! But it's also filled with political details and dare I say a setup for future plots and (much needed) character development 👀

Starting off with the confirmation that Ostania is indeed a nationalist country

This is also the first time that an outsider seems to view The Punch as something positive, as though Anya is standing up to right-wing extremism (which would actually be super cool ngl)

All the comedy aside, this is the first child character who's actually aware of politics and international relations. It makes sense that a prince has to keenly study politics and diplomacy, most of his thoughts are about his country and which repercussions his interactions in Eden could have on the grand scheme of things. This kid literally breathes politics, everything from his mannerisms, expressions and thoughts is deeply embedded in his political upbringing. That's quite a burden for a 6 year old kid...

Now let's talk about how this will affect my favourite brat hahaha

They are literal opposites in everything, but I find it interesting how the prince is basically a subversion of Damian (and could probably bring out the worst in him)

Damian thinks he's hot shit because of his father and acts as though he's royalty, but he's maybe a noble at best. He calls everyone who doesn't share his status a peasant and looks down on them. His expressions are brash and very rude and he has gotten reprimanded for it before. He aspires to become a politician, yet he lacks every single skill for that. However he's also courageous when it does matter.

The prince on the other hand is obviously of royal descent, but he's not arrogant at all. In fact, he's just scared of international scandal and a coward. He's humble and eager to befriend his Ostanian classmates and doesn't care if they're "peasants". He has actual diplomatic skills that he applies all the time. He's honest and straightforward in his thoughts and doesn't feel ashamed to openly befriend Anya, even going as far as suggesting that he should visit her home

I can also see him subtly and passive-aggressively make digs at Damian. There seems to be a suggestion that his kingdom is either politically centrist and/or left-leaning and Damian might incorporate everything that prince hates. He would also get away with provoking Damian because he's already mastered diplomacy (for a 6 yo lol) which could ultimately lead to Damian embarrassing himself in front of everyone (and maybe even earn a tonitrus that he kinda deserves ngl). Unlike prince, Damian is impulsive, emotional and just starts to scream at everyone around him. He doesn't know what composure is.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if most of their classmates will start to distance themselves from Damian and no longer put him on a pedestal. Why should they when there's a literal prince among them who treats everyone with respect and is always eloquent, even when he's internally freaking out.

All of this will hopefully trigger Damian's long-overdue character development. The clash with prince is inevitable either way, especially because Anya is involved. Yes I want to see jealous Damian, but I also want him to grow up a little and realize that he's not that important, he shouldn't treat others as beneath him and most importantly he should realize that he knows nothing. He doesn't know what actually makes a great leader and politician. He doesn't know how Ostania and his father are viewed internationally. He's not aware how his actions could actually bear political consequences.

I do hope he will befriend prince in the end though, he could learn many things from him. Only in Eden do international relations form during elementary school lmao

[cheenaprie]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day one

Summary: Illumi had decided to spoil you for once, little did you know how much it would cost you in the end.

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is kind of an asshole but when is he not, reader is not having a good time

Day two + three Day four + five Day ???

Shit.

Why didn’t you figure this out sooner?

You had deluded yourself into believing that maybe he felt bad, that he had actually changed for the better, for your wellbeing, that he actually wanted to treat you for once just to make you happy.

Of course not.

There’s always a catch. It was chiefly for his benefit under the guise of strengthening the involuntary relationship you had with him.

“Fate brought you to me. And thus, it is my duty to protect you.” he explained over and over during his many lectures, trying to drill it into you. 

He had only given the illusion of change.

You held your breath, his body looming over you with one hand interlaced with your own and the other straddling your hip to keep you still. He left bite marks on your neck, too rough and inexperienced to be interpreted as anything affectionate, though what he intended, blood quick to seep out of the wounds. He had slowly lapped it up, taking far too long for it to be seen as any sort of foreplay. A part of you wondered if he changed his mind and decided to cannibalize you instead. 

He didn’t really care how strange his actions were, though. He had you right where he wanted you — where you should’ve been long ago. He moved like he was following a script; his long, black hair draped down as he went in for more “love bites”. His face was expressionless as always, cementing just how empty this relationship was. How did he develop such a twisted sense of love?

You question why he even bothered preparing you for this, though you appreciated it for once, as he took the time to organize a five day vacation with you – or rather order the butlers to organize it. What was the point? Everything was lifeless and awkward, just like back at the estate. Was this the only sense of normality he was willing to give you? 

Your mind recalls when it was first announced to you, it was through your appointed butler, Shiori. Shiori was around the same age as you, chosen deliberately to increase your chances of opening up to her. He gave her the task, having her inquire about your likes and dislikes, favorite hobbies, movies, fashion taste and more just so he could surprise you with it later. You assumed he’s either too awkward or doesn’t care enough to learn about your interests directly from your own mouth.

Sitting at a white desk in your prison of a master bedroom, you assembled a DIY house kit. It was a little greenhouse, the tediousness of it giving you something to do while you tried to maintain your sanity. The room was windowless, the walls soundproof, and there was only one door, a titanium maximum security door that could only be opened with his permission. A security camera with a speaker loomed above you, seemingly always pointing directly at you.

You try not to think about how many times he’s watched you through that camera.

The distant sound of one of the security gates opening catches your ears. Someone’s coming. 

You set the tweezers down, heart quickening as you continue listening. It doesn’t take long for the door to be unlocked, the multiple clicks ringing throughout the silent room. Audible footsteps could be heard, causing you to relax a little as that was your indication it wasn’t him. You turn as Shiori emerges, swiftly locking the door behind her and standing with her white gloved fingers interlaced neatly in front of her. She smiles at you and you return a half hearted one. 

“Good evening, Master (Name).” she bows her head with formality, her short brown and blonde hair briefly falling over her face. She straightens up again and quickly fixes her hair. “The Master has a message for you. You are to freshen up and dress yourself, you will be escorted outside shortly.”

Your interest immediately piqued. You had only been outside of this room once since you got here – when you attempted your first escape. It was during a time when you had a different assigned butler named Junpei. Junpei had fallen for you in their short time taking care of you, bonding with you in ways no other butler would ever be able to. They were genuine, they actually cared about you and your well-being rather than what their employer had tasked them with. There were no cameras in the room at the time so the two of you made plans to escape whenever they visited under the guise of wanting to keep you company. Unfortunately for you, your captor had already planned for something like this, though he didn’t think anyone had the gall to actually up and do it. Both your and Junpei’s heart dropped to your feet when you saw him standing menacingly outside the first security gate. He was silent, but his bloodthirsty aura spoke for him. You soon found out what it sounds like to physically rip someone apart with bare hands. You actually thought you'd die that night as you found yourself unable to breathe or even think amidst his extreme, malicious aura, eyes widening further when he questions if you truly loved Junpei. You never want to see him like that ever again. 

You were let off with a broken ankle and no one spoke of the incident again. 

Shiori could see your confusion mixed with awe. “That is all I can tell you, Master (Name). It would be best for you to begin preparing yourself now.”

You slowly stood up, looking at your project for a moment as you pondered what he may have been planning. This was strange. He definitely wasn’t rewarding you for good behavior. You’ve already tried that route of buttering him up in hopes he’d let his guard down; he, in fact, did not and you were punished for dishonesty. How would he know what true love was anyway?

You make your way to the large, luxury bathroom, turning on the warm water and letting the shower run for a bit. You hear Shiori’s footsteps through the door, assuming she’s going through your wardrobe and picking your outfit at his request. You hate him. 

You slowly stepped into the tub, the warm water embracing you like a comforting hug. Hot showers restored a bit of your sanity. You liked to stand there and allow the water to splash onto you, imagining you were anywhere but in this hellhole. Shiori, however, encourages you to pick up your speed, well aware of your tendency to reminisce in the shower for far too long. You sigh, stepping out of the tub and finishing your routine. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to see what months of stress had done to your features. You threw on a fluffy robe before leaving the bathroom. There was an outfit sprawled out on the bed, one you knew he really liked on you though he’s never admitted it, only staring longer than he should.

“Is this some kind of special event?” You ask sarcastically.

It’s a rhetorical question, but Shiori humors you regardless.

“The Master is in a good mood today.” she smiles gently, her voice somewhat monotone. 

She reminded you of him in a way. Why did she even choose to work here? You stare at the outfit for a moment, reluctant to even touch it. Shiori notices your uneasiness, fully understanding your anxiety but feigning ignorance nonetheless. “Is something the matter, Master (Name)?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Your anxiety continues to build. Everything in your strange, unstable relationship with him has been purely transactional. Want dessert? Speak kindly to him. Want a new video game to play? Butter him up but be careful not to overdo it, there’s only so much dishonesty he could allow. Want the privilege of having a full belly for the next three days? Behave. Do everything he says without question, regardless if you have to swallow your pride. So despite all of this, why was he suddenly treating you so graciously? Allowing you to leave your prison cell masterfully decorated to resemble a bedroom belonging to a ten million dollar mansion?

Shiori chuckles a bit. You’re aware of how disingenuous it sounds, but you don’t comment on it. “You shouldn’t worry yourself, Master (Name). The Master has been planning this for a while now, I’m sure you will enjoy yourself.”

Great, now you’re worried Shiori has said too much. You’re no stranger to how strict the Zoldyck family is with their servants, how strict he must be with Shiori. You think of what happened to Junpei again, of the desperate pleas that fell upon deaf ears as he continued to mutilate them, how his expression seemed more uncanny than usual.

Shivering at the thought of it, you drop the topic, not wanting to continue to allow her to dig her own grave but grateful for the hints. You remove your robe, ignoring Shiori’s presence as you’ve changed in front of her countless times, and put on the outfit along with your assigned shoes. 

Shiori confirms that you’re ready before the two of you move to stand in front of the large security door. To say you were apprehensive was an understatement. Perhaps this was your chance to finally escape? No, that would be stupid. Obviously he’d already accounted for that, most likely had medical professionals on standby in case he needed to break your ankle again. Maybe he’d break both of them this time or even saw your legs off. You wouldn’t put it past him.

The multiple clicks of the locks could be heard again before the door was pulled open, multiple butlers on the other side. Shiori steps out and you’re hesitant to follow, not wanting to give away how eager and ready to bolt you were. Not like you could anyway, not with five highly skilled butlers watching your every move. 

Not a word was spoken as they escorted you through the two security gates, your eyes stinging when sunlight poured over you. 

You’re outside. 

You’re actually outside.

You would scream and cry if the situation was different, falling to your knees and feeling the grass on your hands in your frenzied state. 

You look around, taking a mental note of every little thing. You could see the Zoldyck’s mansion in the distance, far away from your separate living structure. Good. 

“Eyes forward, (Name).”

The sudden order breaks you out of your thoughts, your head whips forward while your eyes move to look at the source of the voice. It was a taller, older lady with pink, pigtail type hair. She must’ve been serving the Zoldycks for a long time. She’s silent, giving you a stern look before turning forward again. You fight the urge to look around, to run even, as you’re led through the forest that surrounds the estate.

“Where are we going?” you couldn’t help but ask. Your voice is somewhat soft and timid, but it’s clear they all heard you. 

“It’s just up ahead, Master (Name).” Shiori answers, her hands now folded behind her.

You’re taking in as much information as you can without actually looking around, taking note of the distance between the Butler’s Quarters and your prison cell. Approximately one hundred fifty seven steps, you’ve been counting. An additional two hundred seventy four steps from the Butler’s Quarters to the front gate. Would you even remember this information?

One of the butlers effortlessly pushes open the giant front gate, the feat reminding you just how weak you truly are. Those gates weigh four tons and the bigger gates above it are many times heavier. 

You can’t even begin to describe what you were feeling. A part of you fully believed he had come to his senses and was releasing you like some wild animal, throwing you off of the property and leaving you to fend for yourself. Surely it would be better than going back to that room. 

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. Instead of throwing you out and shutting the gate behind them, the butlers led you to a black Mercedes truck sitting in wait.

Your head hurts. You feel like you’re going to throw up. Typical reaction when you know he’s near. You could just die right now. You knew you were bound to see him again, but that doesn’t repress the dread it fills you with.

He’s staring at you through the tinted windows, you can’t see him — you just know it. You don’t want to see him, you haven't had enough time to mentally prepare; you’ll never have enough time to mentally prepare. Shiori steps ahead of you, opening the passage to hell as the Devil himself sits patiently, his black, empty eyes gazing upon you.

You nearly vomit.

You swallow hard, holding your breath in an attempt to mellow out your facial features as you climb into the backseat. You didn’t acknowledge him yet, slowly buckling your seatbelt and staring at Shiori with widened eyes as she shuts the door, sealing you inside with that monster.

It’s suffocating.

Overwhelming.

You forgot to breathe.

Sucking in sharp breaths, you shut your eyes tightly. The silence is deafening. He’s waiting on you. For once.

“H-hello… Illumi.” saying his name was the equivalent of swallowing a cup of hydrochloric acid. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, pains your throat, your stomach, everything. 

Illumi hums in approval. “Hm. I’m thankful you hadn’t forgotten your manners, (Name). I thought I’d have to discipline you sooner than I anticipated.” you hear him shift, surely turning to fully face you. “I won’t need to, right?” his monotone voice does your ears a disservice despite its smoothness.

“No.” you quickly wipe your eyes, knowing how much he hates seeing your tears. 

You finally force yourself to look up at him, his piercing, cat-like eyes filling you with the unwavering desire to do something drastic. Maybe throw yourself out of the car when it’s moving and hope it runs you over, killing you in the process. 

You look away just as quickly, tightly gripping your pants to quell the need to gouge your eyes out. At least you wouldn’t have to look at him then. He shifts again, facing forward but not looking away from you. “I’ll assume you’re overwhelmed. You’ve missed me so much you don’t know how to convey it.”

“I didn’t miss you. I actually had hoped you died and I’d never have to see you again.” is what you would say if you were fond of getting the life strangled out of you. Instead, you stay silent, staring at your hands intertwined on your lap. 

“What have you been getting up to?”

Shouldn’t he already know? Shiori is his human security camera plus the actual security camera he has in your enclosure. What are you even supposed to say to this? You’ve been rotting in bed and crying your eyes out because you can’t leave? You had thought of creative ways to end your own life? He’d have you restrained to your bed for all eternity if you mentioned that last one. 

“Nothing of interest.” is all you say.

“Tell me. I want to hear it.”

Bastard’s trying to force conversation. 

“I’m working on that greenhouse project Shiori had given me-”

“I had given you.” he corrects. Silence falls over the two of you as the car finally begins to drive off. 

Illumi was always out on missions or some other job, how were you supposed to know it was a gift from him? You wouldn’t have touched it otherwise, preferring to rot in bed than encourage him in the slightest. You’re actually thankful for his extended time spent away doing fuck all, not seeing yourself surviving if you had to physically endure him day and night constantly. Hell, you were barely keeping your composure just sitting next to him and you’d only seen him for two minutes. 

“Thank you.” not knowing what else to say, you simply thank him, hoping he’d be satisfied with just that and leave you alone. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been doing?”

Of course he doesn’t.

“Killing people?” you state the obvious, hoping he wouldn’t interpret that as you trying to be smart. Assassinating people is his job, it only makes sense to assume that’s what he’s been doing. You wish he’d kill you and get it over with. 

“Naturally. Take a better guess.” what the hell does he want from you? You don’t know anything significant about him to be able to give a good guess. You’re clearly stunted, your lack of a response giving it away. He narrows his eyes slightly, reaching out which causes you to flinch. He retracts his hand momentarily upon seeing your reaction before going in again slowly, softly cupping your chin and guiding your head to look at him. “Do you assume I don’t think about you?”

What? He must be fucking with you.

Illumi brings forth his other hand just as slowly, now gently cupping your face with both. You were always shocked by how smooth and soft his hands were. They’re cold though.

“Answer me.”

His owlish eyes were staring directly into your soul, almost hypnotizing you. You shift your head and look away. If you were as bold as you used to be, you would’ve swung on him by now, turning his gentle hands cupping your face into violent claws gripping your throat. It took many lessons for you to learn that you simply could not fight him.

He backs down and lets go of you when you fail to answer, pulling his hands into his lap again. He was aware of your fear, he found twisted comfort in it, believing it would keep you glued to his side. You glance in his general direction but not at his face. He was wearing that purple outfit again and his long, black hair was as silky as ever.

“Aren’t you curious as to where we’re going?” 

He sure was talkative today; Shiori did mention he was in a good mood. He’s usually very blank, even around you, his supposed partner. It forced you to learn to read his emotions using his micro expressions, tone, silent indicators, and of course aura. Aura was mainly reserved for more intense emotions, ones you should avoid inducing at all costs.

You were always on edge whenever you were around him, and this unusual shift in attitude didn’t help. 

“So where are we going?” you finally ask.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Motherfucker. 

You don’t respond, looking away from him in favor of staring out of the window. You were seated awkwardly, not fully allowing yourself to relax, not that you could in the presence of Illumi. You could almost drown him out completely if it weren’t for his uncanny staring, something you still couldn’t get used to. He barely blinks; it reminds you of some sort of Creepypasta.

“Talk to me.”

It was an order.

“I don’t know what to say to you.” your voice was quiet. You’re really not in the mood to speak right now, especially not to him. This wouldn’t do, however, as Illumi was determined — something that proves to never end well for you. 

“You can talk about anything you want.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“(Name),” it was a warning, a hint of irritation laced his otherwise monotone voice. “Do you really not have anything to talk about… or do you just not want to?”

You didn’t want to clearly, but you also didn’t want to taste his wrath. 

“Could you tell me about your day?” you chose to interview him instead, hoping that if you got him to talk in length, you wouldn’t have to. He brings his hand up to his chin as if he was thinking, his eyes never leaving you. You felt like he was robbing you of your life energy just by looking at you. 

“My day?” he repeated the question, falling silent for a few moments before speaking once more. “If I told you, that would ruin the surprise.”

You reply with a mere “oh” before looking out of the window once again. 

“(Name).”

He’s never been this persistent for your attention before. All the times he’s returned home and “spent time” with you mainly consisted of the two of you sitting in silence while he watched you do nothing; an occasional short and awkward conversation. It felt more like he was being forced to interact with you rather than wanting to on his own volition, despite him being the one keeping you there. 

“I’m sorry, Illumi.” 

You only said his name when you were trying to soothe him, hoping to avoid consequence. He knew that, but he wouldn’t admit that it indeed worked. The slight drooping of his shoulders betrayed him every time, however. 

He doesn’t accept nor reject your insincere apology, choosing to silently savor your calling of his name. You will never understand him.

“I answered you, now it’s your turn to talk. Tell me about your home life.”

This question immediately raised flags. He’s never asked you something like this, let alone allow you to cry about it. You look at him, eyes slightly widen for a brief moment. Was he only bringing this up to bait you into talking? “Don’t you already know everything about me?” 

He indeed did. He made it known to you that he’d stalked you for five months before making his move, talking about it as if he was stating what he had for lunch. He had no sense of morality, no awareness as to how his extreme actions affected others. He’s insane.

You’ve noticed a slight change in his stare. You’re pissing him off.

“I want you to tell me.”

“Uh,” you quickly scrambled for things to say, “I had my own house and car as well as a really good high paying job.” you used “had” for a reason. You were positive that all your assets were repossessed when search parties couldn’t find you and weeks were flying by without a single clue regarding your whereabouts. Illumi keeps staring, quietly pressing you to continue. 

“I had a really sweet dog.” you used “had” again. You don’t recall all the details of that night, only that you had gotten a rude shock when you woke up to a strange man in your bedroom. Surely you would have woken up sooner if you heard something happen, but you didn’t. You decided to ask what you were always afraid to ask before, taking advantage of this moment to finally get closure. “Are… are they okay? My dog?”

Your hesitation was obvious. Nothing good ever happened whenever you brought up members of what he refers to as “your past life.” you were positive he intended for you to talk about things you did alone rather than actual people or living beings you connected with. They didn’t exist anymore, according to him. They don’t matter. Don’t talk about them. 

“Your dog is dead.” 

You’d been preparing for this moment for months now, but the bluntness of his answer still hit you like a truck. “H-huh?”

“Your dog is dead.” he repeated again with no sense of remorse. ”I didn’t want to risk it alerting you to my presence, so I killed it.”

Something felt off that night, your dog was more anxious than usual, pacing back and forth and staring out certain windows. They even refused to go outside when you tried to let them out, their tail tucked between their legs and fur standing on edge. You should’ve known. You should’ve taken them and ran.

It was even worse that you also ignored all those strange people you had met that week. They all had a gold piercing sticking out of some part of their head, almost like a needle. Their words were slurred and their movements puppet-like as they asked you unsettling questions. “Do you have a romantic interest?” as well as  “Do you have any exes?” and “Do you live alone?”

That should’ve been your sign to get the hell out of there. 

Illumi tilts his head and watches you attempt to bottle your emotions. Your hands gripping the fabric of your pants tightly as you bit your lip, your heart was hurting. You’d already mourned for your dear pet, assuming that killer had taken their life when he broke into your house, but still having slight hope that he had spared them. 

Why had he even bothered to answer your question let alone allow you to ask it?

He doesn’t initiate anymore conversation for the rest of the car ride, thankfully, allowing you to simmer in your emotions. That doesn’t mean he averts his attention from you, though. 

The car finally pulls into a parking lot belonging to a grand, luxurious hotel. You’re as confused as you are shocked. The parking lot is empty aside from several black Mercedes trucks holding Zoldyck butlers and presumably cars belonging to the hotel’s employees. It’s a normal working day and this is a well known, upscale hotel, so why was it so empty? 

Illumi looks away from you for the first time since you’ve entered the car, pulling the door’s handle and exiting the vehicle. You didn’t move, you’re too afraid to, you didn’t want to make the wrong move. 

Shiori approaches your side of the truck, but Illumi steps in front of her, opening the door for you and holding out his hand. You slowly unbuckled your seatbelt and attempted to slide past him, he only grabbed you and placed you back into the car before extending his hand again, silently commanding you to take it. He took note of your blatant disobedience, but said nothing, deciding against giving you a much desired punishment. He took what he considered to be a softer approach, giving you a chance to correct your mistakes. 

Feeling as though he’s one inconvenience away from breaking you, you hesitantly take his hand. His grip was firm, his assistance useless. He ignored your attempt at pulling your hand free the second your foot touched the ground, choosing to let go only after both feet were firmly planted. 

Illumi doesn’t explain the situation as he begins walking with you in tow, Shiori and some other butlers trailing behind the both of you. Butlers were all over the place actually, standing guard as if this was a maximum security prison rather than a hotel. You feel like they’re all watching you, fully expecting you to try something in vain. You don’t blame them, if you had super speed, you would’ve run off by now. 

The hotel was completely vacant of people, aside from more butlers and concerned hotel employees. As you enter the lobby, your eyes lingered on the receptionist, praying they had seen your missing person’s report months earlier; if it had even been reported as such. They only look down, guilt seemingly spread across their face. Were they threatened or perhaps even paid off to stay silent? 

Who knows.

The silence was louder than the shuffling of the butlers’ footsteps or the tune of the faint jazz music coming from the ballroom. A butler approaches Illumi and informs him that all preparations were ready, earning them a nod in response. You silently follow as the both of you are led away, the uneasiness on your face evident to anyone who dared to look at it. 

The butler soon stops in front of a particular door far at the end of a long hallway. The space felt liminal, you’d almost think you’d gotten sucked into a different reality if the two people next to you weren’t present. The butler bows slightly before leaving you and Illumi alone. He looked at you, like he was trying to read your expression, before twisting the door’s handle and revealing the room’s interior. 

He must’ve paid a fortune. The room was large, decorated with luscious furniture you couldn’t even begin to think about affording. There was a king size bed in the middle of the room, a flatscreen TV almost as wide as the bed propped on the wall in front of it, a glass sliding door leading to a balcony on the far right, and a lounge chair in the corner to say the least. 

You awkwardly step into the room, hugging yourself as you attempt to make sense of the situation; taking note of the clicking of the door’s lock. 

“Well, here we are.”

His lack of enthusiasm spoiled the mood. Not that the mood was bright anyway.

“So… what’s the point of this?” your voice was a bit low and shy. He didn’t like it, he’d have to chip away at that. He had bigger things to be upset over, however, as you appear, or choose to pretend, to not understand what’s going on. His intentions should’ve been obvious by now. He doesn’t respond right away, causing you to ask yet another ignorant question. “Are we attending some kind of special event?”

“No.” his answer was short, intentionally vague to encourage you to figure it out yourself. Illumi casually moves about the room while you continue to stand in the same spot, presumably checking for himself to make sure that everything was in place. You were on edge, that much was apparent as he stopped a few feet in front of you. “Do you like the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I will be back.”

You feel a slight wind as he walks past you, a little too close considering the amount of space around you. You immediately relax once he’s gone, taking a few deep breaths as you cautiously inspect the room. The thought of trying the handle to see if he’d locked it behind him doesn’t even cross your mind, the odds were against you and you knew that. Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try the balcony door, however.

It was locked, just as you’d guessed. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed and resting your head in your hands, you think in vain of a possible escape. Maybe when he leaves you alone again, you could use something to break the glass then use the bed sheets to craft a makeshift rope? The problem with that is the bedsheets wouldn’t serve you as you were several stories off the ground. Your plan didn’t even account for what you’d do if you even reached the ground as you were sure Zoldyck butlers surrounded the premises.

You decided it was best to just roll with it, see where this was going. Maybe you could exploit him as he does seem to be more lenient with you. 

The door clicks and it opens, Illumi standing in the doorway looking in at you, noticing how much more relaxed you appeared to be in his absence. He motions for you to follow and you do so without fuss. 

Following him down the long hallway felt surreal, you couldn’t hear anything aside from your own footsteps as his were completely silent; traits of an elite assassin. You watch as his long, black hair swayed behind him, almost glaring as you study his robotic movements. He doesn’t feel real.

The two of you entered the hotel’s restaurant, it was just as desolate of other patrons as the rest of the place. You were led to a lone, two person table placed next to the glass wall, the table’s decorations stood out amongst the others as its setting included rose petals and candles. 

Corny. You don’t like this.

You take your seat, now being forced to fully face him for who knows how long. You turn your head to the right, looking out of the window. Your breath hitches as you notice people in the far distance. People. Actual people clueless as to what’s happening to you right now. You give Illumi a side stare, his blank yet judgemental one challenging yours.

“Where is everyone?” you couldn’t help but ask despite knowing it was a question he did not want to hear. 

“They aren’t important.”

Why should they matter? They’d only interfere and distract you from what’s important: him. You should only be focused on him and his efforts to please you. 

“So what exactly is this?”

Your inability, or unwillingness, to comprehend the situation was beginning to annoy him. Wasn’t it clear? Did the dim lighting and candles not give it away? The rose petals on the table? The romantic — or what he deemed to be romantic — atmosphere? 

“It’s a romantic dinner.”

He didn’t offer any further details, upset he had to state that it was a date rather than let his efforts speak for him. You were sitting across from him, the two of you were almost completely alone. This was a date.

“All of a sudden, though? You never let me leave that room before.”

“Why does it matter?” his tone was still flat. 

Illumi couldn’t believe you’d question his acts of kindness. He was doing it because he wanted to treat you for once, deciding to take you somewhere appropriate and fitting to your taste. 

“I’m just trying to understand you.” you state, holding your hands together on the table as a self soothing mechanism. 

“You don’t need to understand me.” his voice hinted at the tiniest bit of annoyance. He had no need to explain his actions, he had his reasons and that’s all you needed to know. “Just enjoy the dinner.”

You say nothing as you turn your attention to the only other people present in the room: the butlers standing at the exits and the chefs working in the kitchen. None of them looked at you, their attention focused on anything but. 

“Don’t stare at them. The butlers are simply here to protect you.” his monotone voice made his last sentence sound oddly intimidating. 

You fight the urge to question if it was him they would be protecting you from in the case that you anger him. 

“It feels like the rapture has happened and we’re the only ones left.” you pick up one of the rose petals, inspecting it as an excuse to avoid his gaze. 

“That would be ideal.” 

“Is something bad going to happen to me?” your forward question caused his thin eyebrows to raise slightly.

“Not if you behave. I just want you to enjoy this date.” his tone was a bit softer now, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t, or forced to be, close to him. He didn’t like your anxiousness, worried it would ruin his meticulous yet futile plans to make amends with you. 

You were still on edge as the butlers served a lavish meal to the both of you, your facial features failing to soften as you inspected the food. He was fully aware of just how much damage he’d done to you and he wasn’t going to justify his behavior, only wanting to make you feel better. 

It was hard for him to stay silent, however, as you were continuing to look around and stare at the butlers.

“Is the sight of them bothering you?” the sound of his voice catching your attention. “I could have them move out of view if that would ease your nerves.”

He doesn’t get it. Maybe he pretends not to, choosing to ignore your uncomfortableness with him in favor of deluding himself.

“It’s not that, it’s just…” 

Your words couldn’t come out, you didn’t know what to say. Ask him to get rid of all the unnecessary escorts and open the hotel to the public again as this felt more like a standoff than a romantic dinner? You hated the silence between you, not that you wanted to speak to Illumi, you wanted to hear the chatter of other diners over the classy jazz music, the clinking of utensils as they enjoyed their meal.

“Oh?” he slowly tilted his head, his uncanny expression observing your every move and sound. It’s as if he was daring you to ruin it all with some sort of stupid comment; it’d give him a reason to drag you back to the estate and lock you away for good. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” you manage to finally say. It just wasn’t worth it.

He continues staring, features unmoving as you assume he’s thinking of various ways to brutally murder you. He only straightens himself.

“I see.” 

You’re internally thankful he dropped it, your shoulders drooping in relief as you watch him continue to eat unnaturally fast, a strange habit of his. When was the last time he’s blinked? You can’t stand him. 

Illumi obviously didn’t believe that you had nothing to share. He knew you well enough to guess that whatever you were about to say would’ve angered him, so you kept quiet in order to avoid problems. Good, you were learning. 

Silence fell over the two of you, increasing the tension in the air. He’d already finished eating, choosing to gaze at you rather than anything else. He was making you lose your appetite, but you somehow managed to finish your meal.

“Would you like dessert?” Illumi inquired, barely giving you enough time to chew and swallow your last bite before asking.

“No thanks.” you don’t explain why. The truth was that you didn’t want to sit in front of him any longer, you were tired of his eyes boring into you. 

“Are you sure?” he tilted his head again, pressuring you for a different answer.

“I’m sure.” 

You wouldn’t budge, much to his dismay. You had unknowingly foiled his plans to spoon feed you a strawberry sundae. 

“Very well.” he doesn’t push any further, only slowly nodding. “Did you enjoy the food?”

“Yummy.” 

Illumi didn’t immediately react to your childish response, only straightening himself after a few moments. He had made sure this dinner would be perfect, planning everything to the last detail, and you’ve shown your gratitude by looking at everything other than him and rating his endeavor with a one word answer. 

He remained still for a few more moments before deciding to ignore your strange behavior once again. He stood up from his seat, looking away from you for the first time since he’s sat down. 

“Let’s go.”

You follow him as commanded, taking clear note of his slight annoyance. He led you to the hotel’s theater, the sound of your footsteps slightly echoing in the large, spacious room. He picks two spots in the center and takes a seat, you follow suit. 

Choosing to stay silent, you don’t ask any questions about what movie the two of you were seeing, only staring forward as the lights turn off and the showing begins. Illumi had carefully selected this movie for you. It was lighthearted and fun, chosen specifically to improve your mood. The date wasn’t meeting his expectations, as you weren’t quite throwing yourself at him, but he was determined to change that. 

You tried your best to ignore his constant glancing in your direction for the entirety of the film. It was as if he was looking for something, for reassurance to soothe his ever growing concerns. He didn’t like your indifference, he didn’t like that he couldn’t tell how you were feeling in detail about his attempts at courtship.

The movie was good, you liked it. Illumi was already staring at you by the time you faced him, the credits rolling on the screen. It was subtle but he still looked upset, the image of you leaning away from him as if you were trying to put as much space as possible between the two of you was still fresh in his mind. 

He would break that physical barrier, desensitize you to his presence.

As you silently walk back to the suite, Illumi suddenly grabs your hand. Your heart jumps into your throat, fully expecting him to crush it as punishment for upsetting him. He stops walking and stares at you when you impulsively try to pull away, not saying a word as he gives you a second to collect yourself. 

You were ruining his passionate act of love. He knew he wasn’t the most expressive, as he was raised to mask his emotions, but his straightforwardness made up for that. You should be happy. This is an act of love. He had done his research — asking his father — and knew what he needed to do in order to please you. He won’t let you spoil it. 

Eventually you somewhat simmer down, still tense in his firm hold. He continues walking, slower this time. He wasn’t even holding your hand correctly as yours was balled into a fist. He didn’t care though, as long as he was holding it.

The night hadn’t gone his way but he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve, optimistic that tomorrow would be better. Illumi would not put up with failure. 

You were in for a ride.

You reach and enter the suite once again, Illumi locking the door behind him. He lets out a sigh and begins to settle down, having no issue kicking his shoes off and changing clothes right in front of you. You, however, move to sit stationary on the lounge chair, staring at the ground to avoid any awkward interactions with your naked “husband”. 

You had no desirable reaction to anything he did, which he found disheartening. You finally look up when he’s fully clothed, watching as he sits on the edge of the bed. He decided to risk it, to ask about your experience. He figured a blunt and bold answer would be significantly better than overthinking and assuming the worst. “Did you enjoy anything I did today?”

Truth be told, you did. You just didn’t like him. Had anyone more deserving taken the time to do this for you, you’d throw yourself all over them. 

“It was the typical Illumi experience.” 

You regretted saying that before it even left your mouth. “The typical Illumi experience” was not a compliment, it was a brutal insult disguised with subtlety. You had just compared his month’s worth of intensive planning and preparing to a regular day being around him back at Kukuroo Mountain. 

Something you didn’t like flashed in his eyes, your fingers nervously grip your pants yet again. What you’d just said was so dismissive, condescending, everything he didn’t want to hear. He turns away from you, looking out of the glass balcony door as he takes several slow and deep breaths. He was collecting himself.

He reasoned in his mind, internally arguing that this was his chance to dissect your feelings and see how he could improve. He turns toward you, expression unreadable. “Elaborate.”

“Am I allowed to express myself?” you ask, your question was legitimately innocent. However, you were saying all the wrong things at the wrong time. 

“You were always allowed to express yourself, you just seem to have a habit of doing it disrespectfully.”

“I’m sorry.” you lower your gaze, apology insincere. 

You don’t know why he’s changed. You can tell that he’s being softer with you. If you said something like that a few months ago, you’d be unable to speak for the next two weeks. 

“Do you harbor resentment towards me?”

That was a rhetorical question. He didn’t want an answer; an answer other than a loud, confident “no” anyways. 

You stay silent, continuing to stare at the ground. He didn’t acknowledge that your silence was your way of saying yes. 

“Are we going back tomorrow?” you ask, changing the subject in order to lessen the heavy atmosphere. 

“Back to Kukuroo Mountain?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Illumi doesn’t provide further details. This trip won’t end unless it’s on a good note. “You should get changed.”

He stands up and rummages through the wardrobe, pulling out a silk pajama set. You slowly stand and retrieve it, making your way to the bathroom to change. He assumes you’re just being shy. You eventually come out, having put your dirty clothes into the hamper, before making your way to the lounge chair once again. The lights have been dimmed in your absence.

He was sitting up in bed, halfway under the blankets, staring at you expectantly. You didn’t want to come to terms with the reality that you had to sleep in the same bed as him; that fact wasn’t lost on him. It was obvious you were avoiding having to deal with the inevitable conclusion of the night by seeking comfort on the lounge chair. He wouldn’t allow you that comfort. “Come to bed.” his tone was flat, it was an order. 

“I’m not tired yet-”

“Come to bed.” he wasn’t hearing your excuses, only repeating himself while patting the empty space next to him. You look at him with a saddened expression, silently pleading to be let off the hook; the issue is that he’s let you off the hook multiple times today already and he wasn’t planning on letting you rob him of this. “Do as I say.”

Sensing the impatience in his tone, you reluctantly head over to your side of the bed and slide under the blanket, making sure to curl up as close to the edge and as far from Illumi as possible. You face away from him, silently making it clear you weren’t interested in anything other than sleep. He doesn’t comment on this, choosing to stay silent as he thinks to himself. He wanted to hold you, but he knew not to push too far. At least not so soon.

He sighs, continuing to sit up in bed as he watches your sleeping figure. Tomorrow will be a better day, he’ll make sure of it. 

[thelunaticself]

SUGAR DADDY! LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X READER

Part 2

Summary: Lucifer and you reach a somewhat transactional relationship. However, you find yourself develop feelings for him.

A/N: i just wanted to write something short:)

Sighing, you put one of your rings back into your jewelry box. You have been sitting in front of your makeup mirror for 2 hours, suffering from having too many jewelry options. Well…maybe that's not exactly suffering.

It is a cycle repeating almost every week. The King of Hell takes you out for some fancy dinner date and almost always ends up with you and him making a mess in bed. You don't know how long this relationship will last and you are sure he will soon find another "entertainer" (probably skinnier). That thought makes you recoil when looking at your reflection in the mirror. You have never been comfortable in your own skin. Heck, why would a King of all places dote on someone who looks like they can eat 10 pounds of grilled cheese?

*Circus ringtone*

Shit! You think to yourself. Nervously gripping at your designer hand bag, you inhale and exhale to calm down before finally pressing the accept button. Despite being quite close to the King (maybe too close), he never fails to make you stumble over his every little actions. He commented politely on this once; however, that hasn't improved one bit.

Hey, just wanna check up on you, darling. Are you ready to head out?

His sugar-coated voice makes you shiver a bit. You take a silent glance at your jewelry box before answering:

Yeah, you can pick me up now.

You finally admit defeat and settle down on the (f/c) set of earrings despite his preference being crimson. Sometimes, you just want to add a bit of yourself to the clothes you are wearing as a reminder to not lose yourself when indulging in his gifts. It's scary watching you slowly turn into nothing but a dress-up darling for the King. You feel less alive and more like a doll every time you go out with him. Your messy lines of thoughts are abruptly cut as a portal pops up. Standing straight and dusting the invisible dust off your fancy dress, you watched as Lucifer strides out gracefully. He pridely plants a soft kiss on your knuckles before taking in the most beautiful scenery before him-you. His eyes lingers a bit on your set of earrings before chuckling:

Darling, you look like the finest angel in hell.

Oh, Lucifer… You look away embarrassingly.

Fixing his coat, he opens another portal leading to a fancy-looking restaurant. The meal is going to cost more than all your organs combined. You think quietly to yourself.

…

You know what happens after the date. You and him. On the bed. Your clothes lying on where you don't fucking care because he will just buy you new one anyway. But you’ll be a liar if you don't find yourself enjoying the moment right now. It's your favorite activity. After intense moments, you always find yourself lying on his warm chest. It's addicting and capable of burning you alive. Maybe you do have a thing for him. Does Lucifer have a thing for you? Heaven knows. He tries to present his best version of himself for you. You don't know when the masterful actor will break his role and go off to find another toy. You just hope this lasts longer than you think. But that's enough thinking for today, you decide to focus on his gentle combing of your hair and the rise and fall of his chest instead, slowly drifting away to sleep.

Sleep fails you. It's one of those nights again where your thoughts are too loud.

Feeling a pressure on his chest, Lucifer let out a light grunt before opening his eyes. Your (e/c) ones stare back at him. You have always been… intriguing. That's why he keeps you so close, desperate for this relationship to work. He finds you addicting.

Do you love me?

Taken back by your question given the time and place, he scrambles his brain searching for a reasonable answer. The dinner went out as usual. He also makes sure to be as gentle as possible during the…uh…nevermind. Everything had been normal until now. Until you ask. Smiling sweetly at you, he tries to deliver his sentence as thoughtful as possible:

Of course, honey. You meant the world to me. What makes you question that?

Yeah, what makes you question that? You don't know. What do you even want from him? You don't know. Pushing further could lead to him getting annoyed and dumping you in the process. That reminds you of your old life. It's best to play it safe, maybe you are just confused. Afterall, you didn't have any time to process the relationship when all of this started. Nuzzling your head into his chest, you answered with your usual sweet bimbo voice that you hate so much:

Nothing! Just making sure.

You hear him let out a sign of relief and feel his shoulder relaxed. That night, you slept with a confused mess on your mind, just like any other night with him.

⌯⌲ buy me a coffee?

[theoldkyokodied]

Hello! I really love your art! I was wondering if you have any tips on how to capture the person the facial features of the person you are drawing so well?(!) Your Billy and Stu are is amazing! Although it is in your style (which I absolutely adore) you still keep their likeness/resemblance which is very hard for me to do when trying to draw them in my style! (Sorry if the wording is confusing, any tips?) Thanks!

Ah thank you so much and sorry for taking so long to reply, but I needed to figure out how to answer this.

I have put some general tips together, but I need to point out that none of these replace the time investment of learning art. It is merely a suggestion of direction for practice, and I don’t want anyone to feel discouraged if any of these tips don’t immediately make them into a master of arts. Art practice is not easy and it can be frustrating to not be up to your own standards yet, but you will get there! :) In the meantime: be kind to yourself!

That said, let’s get to the tips I can share:

1) Use references!

I usually create a reference sheet for any character I want to draw more often, with their face in lots of different angles. Being able to know how, for example, someone’s nose looks like from the side and from the front can be essential when it comes to recognition. You basically want to be able to create a 3 dimensional object with these references. I tend to need the references less the more I draw the character, after a while i just memorise their key aspects for drawing them from most angles :)

2) Figure out key-features of a person

Try to figure out how to simplify someone in a drawing. What are their most striking features that NEED to be included? Sometimes it helps when you try to think of what features a caricaturist would accentuate in a caricature of them. Here you have some features that I personally try to focus on when I draw billy:

As mentioned in the bottom right corner, the placement of these key-features is also important. Try to figure out where things are placed in relation to other facial features and mind their size as well. this becomes easier the more you do it!

If you struggle to find out what features are important you can also look up other fan-artists stylised work you like and try to see what they chose to highlight :)

3) Do studies!

4) focus on values and contrast before considering color

doing a study without a sketch by blocking in shapes can help you figure out the planes of a characters face

as you can see here, stu’s eyebrows kind of blend in with the shadows of his brow bone, which is why I usually draw his eyebrows pretty light/in a color that doesn’t have high contrast with the skin tone, it makes him instantly more recognisable in my opinion

5) Draw (a lot)

I have been drawing basically every day since I was a child, but my ability to actually draw someone recognisable has only developed in the recent years. And I don’t think I’m done with learning. In the undying words of Bob Ross: “Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you’re willing to practice, you can do”.

I hope my tips can help a bit and and perhaps lend you some motivation for the never ending practice that every artist has to face :’) <3

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

You know, what would Firefly think of a s/o who has the G-Gundam or Armored Core mech?

(H:SR) Firefly with an overdramatic S/O

I spent the last 2 hours writing for this piece, only to realize it was exceeding 2.5k words so I'm drafting that and scaling this back down because I got WAY too carried away. But enough of that!

LET'S GET THINGS STARTED! GUNDAM FIGHT, READDYYYYYY...GOOOOOOOOO!

Firefly has met some strange people in her life so far. There were the Stellaron Hunters, the people of Penacony, the Astral Express Crew, and countless more.

Even if they seemed fine on the surface, any extended period of time spent witht hem would prove that they would be unhinged in some capacity. But in this vast galaxy, of course they would be! Who wouldn't?

Firefly couldn't deny she had some strange qualities herself, and yet nothing could prepare her to meet the King/Queen of Hearts.

And absolutely nothing in this universe could have told her that she would have fallen in love with this person.

Firefly was inside her own suit as she watched her S/O first enter that colorful mech of theirs, kicking and punching rapidly as their transformation finished.

What stunned her the most was that people just watched it happen.

Upon realizing that she was SAM, most people immediately went for their guns or tried to stop her in some capacity.

Then again, they were probably stunned by the yelling and grunting S/O was doing as they performed some honestly pretty admirable martial arts skills.

And before anyone could react, S/O lunged forward with their right hand burning.

(S/O) "ERUPTING, BURNING, FIIIIIIIIINGEEEEEEEEEEEEER!-"

To which those admirable skills turn into something horrifying, as their robotic fist suddenly grabbed someone's torso, lifted them into the air.

(S/O) "AND NOW, HEAT END!"

Firefly watched with a mixture of curiosity and terror as the guard they had grabbed suddenly exploded, without any warning or even any way to trigger that explosion as far as her suit could tell.

S/O seemingly could just detonate whatever object they grabbed after screaming their signature move on command.

(Firefly) "If I can ask, how exactly can you do that?"

(S/O) "Hah! It is a secret technique from the Undefeated of the East! The School of Master Asia! However, of all the people I have met in this world, I believe you could master it as I did!"

She couldn't deny that their moves were effective, and honestly it'd be great if her suit could recreate their devastation.

But...did she really have to scream out their moves?

And much to her embarassment, yes she would.

In the worst way possible: In front of all the other Stellaron Hunters.

It was during the climax of their first mission together, S/O and Firefly had traveled together for nearly half a year as friends, usually on their own and sometimes joined by other companions.

The two had developed feelings, but Firefly was too conscious of her identity as a Stellaron Hunter and Elio's script, and S/O was never good at speaking their mind, always thinking with their fist first.

But after an argument, Firefly felt guilty and charged off to defeat their final quarry alone, causing her suit to get heavily damaged, with S/O rushing in just in time to save her.

...

(S/O) "FIREFLYYYYY!"

S/O's suit flew down next to Firefly's, one hand propping her back up as they shook her.

(S/O) "Firefly...Can you hear me?"

(Firefly) "...S/O?"

Her suit's hand grabbed theirs, yet S/O took that moment to phase out of his suit, much to her confusion.

(S/O) "I don't need you to answer just...hear me out...When you told me that your mission with me was part of your script...I was angry, yes but...it doesn't matter."

Firefly's suit phased out promptly with S/O's, letting her wide-eyed expression be seen fully.

Truth be told, she was actually fine, better than S/O, she had suffered much worse than this, but decided to stay quiet.

(S/O) "Did you seriously think that I would hate you when you told me who you were? About your mission?"

(Firefly) "I...I didn't want to lie to you, S/O. You had told me everything about you and I...-"

S/O shook their head, gently standing her up finally, both their hair drifting along the wind, ashes from the fires below them slowly scattering into the air-

WAIT, THE MONSTER-

Firefly's eyes turned to the corner, seeing the monster-...

...Patiently waiting? It was literally standing a few dozen meters away, towering over them and not doing anything as S/O continued to spill their heart out.

(S/O) "Do you remember what I said before we fought? That once this mission was over, I wanted to talk to you about something?"

Firefly's attention was brought back to S/O, who held both her hands tightly as their soft expression made them her only focus.

(S/O) "I'm a person who's ill at ease and only knows how to fight. That's why it's been hard for me to say this...Honestly, I...I...!"

S/O clenched their fist, just as the fires around them surged even higher, the heat escaping both their notice as her heart skipped a beat.

(S/O) "I LOVE YOU! I WANT TO BE WITH YOU!"

At that very moment, both their suits came back on as the flames swirled, as if moved and empowered by S/O's confession.

The absurdity of this situation was ignored by Firefly, who only shed a single tear, her guilt being replaced by overwhelming love and determination.

Though unknown to her at that moment, Silver Wolf, Kafka, Blade, and even Elio was watching from the sideline.

(Kafka) "So, was this cheesy love story in the script too?"

(Elio) "All I could see was that The King/Queen of Hearts would be an ally. I said and saw absolutely nothing about...whatever this is."

(Silver Wolf) "Maybe it's a secret romance route?"

(Blade) "Why did the monster stop attacking them midway...?"

As if on cue, the monster lunged forward to attack, though the Stellaron Hunters saw S/O and Firefly step into motion, still inside their mechs.

Both their hands were still held together, facing outwards as if ready to tango.

(Elio) "...What are they?-"

(S/O & Firefly) "THESE HANDS OF OURS ARE BURNING RED!"

Instead of Sam's voice coming through the mech, it was entirely her own, loud and clear with her S/O.

She didn't have time to think how ridiculous they looked, Firefly was too caught up in the moment with them.

Letting go for a split moment, they both extended their fist outwards.

(S/O) "THEIR LOUD CRY TELLS US-"

(Firefly) "TO GRASP HAPPINESS!"

The wings on S/O's suit flared out as a glowing halo appeared behind them, while Firefly's entered Complete Combustion, the suit's visor flipping up as energy wings shot out from her back.

Instead of actually using their weapons, Firefly and S/O got into position to tango dance once again, with a heart of pure energy forming behind them.

(S/O & Firefly)

"SEKIHA LOVE LOVE TENKYOKEN!"

With their furthest arms, they both motioned together outwards and to the monster, the heart that had formed behind them turning into a physical projectile, which was still heart-shaped somehow, through the chest of the beast.

(Kafka) "...Oh my god.-"

(Blade) "This is asinine.-"

(Silver Wolf) "This is cringe."

With their fists raised high and hands burning red, the two flew off into the sky as explosions erupted from the massive, comical, heart shaped hole in the monster, a final detonation setting the trees ablaze, the two mechanized lovers leaving a pink trail behind them.

Which was impressive, given that Firefly's thruster colors were typically blue in that mode.

Later on, Firefly would get teased by Kafka and Silver Wolf about their whole "love" technique being able to destroy monsters.

Meanwhile Elio and Blade tried to forget they even saw the whole affair.

[egg-emperor]

The relationship of Eggman and his creations VS the relationship of Eggman's creations with each other

Eggdad and the eggfam has a ton of potential and interesting things to explore in fanon and not in the way people think. People seem to really be into the idea of it being this super unified thing where all the "members" fit perfectly into solid family roles and traditions and get along perfectly and literally just recreate the nuclear family structure. But it's so much more complex, unique, and interesting as a result. Not just to how they all are with Eggman but also with each other too.

Let's look at what we've actually got in the game canon so far. We'll start with-

The relationship of Eggman with his creations:

Metal Sonic has never once been called "son" by Eggman in a game. He has no known attachment to him besides bringing him back for convienience if he finds he can get more use out of him, but he's been more than happy to abandon him if he betrays or fails him.

Orbot and Cubot have also never been seen as sons of Eggman's. He's constantly yelling at them, hitting them, and threatening them. There's no fatherly bond, they're his assistants that he treats terribly.

In fact, as you see at the end of this segment, in the Japanese version of Sonic Colors, Eggman is heavily against the idea of being seen as Cubot's father. (But also Cubot has almost expressed attraction towards Eggman in Team Sonic Racing so it gets weird and complicated lol)

This hasn't changed since I made the above clip as he still treats them cruelly, even in front of Sage in Murder of Sonic

And this is clearly an aspect of their dynamic that's here to stay, as Eggman is even still whacking them around in TailsTube too

Sage is currently the only character where we know the familial aspect exists and is mutual. However, Eggman values her and accepts this dynamic for uniquely selfish and twisted reasons. Specfically for her usefulness and loyalty, how her skill can serve him well, and how he can take the credit for such an impressive skilled life-like creation, especially emphasized if he accepts the title of her father. His reasoning is quite disturbing really lol

It's a huge subversion of the traditional father and daughter dynamic in the way Eggman created Sage to protect him and serve as type of guardian for him rather than the other way around as a parent would typically be,

to the point she gets into danger and sacrifices herself for him and he lets her because it's specifically her function and this doesn't change even after developments

Sage is also still a servant/assistant to her master Eggman, she's mature and reliable and will get work done

(Link to translation here)

and so he promotes her to taking control of the Eggnet, a big responsibility.

She clearly isn't some immature child that needs her hand held and to be protected and coddled. He values her because she's so capable and useful to him and says so himself.

It's to the point that Eggman is the one who can actually be the irrational stubborn manchild throwing tantrums in some situations, while Sage is the more mature level headed rational one in those moments.

Sage is the very first creation he's called himself a father of and it was the best first choice that makes a lot of sense with his already existing character being considered and involved, rather than a complete change of his character and this is why it's great and works.

Not only is it not true that Eggman has ever felt a familial connection to any of his creations pre Sage in the canon games, it would also ruin the whole plot point in Frontiers of him starting to feel that way about a creation for the first time and processing it. This is clearly a first time thing for him.

So now let's talk about-

The relationship of Eggman's creations with each other

Eggman hasn't, and as far as we know, still doesn't see the likes of Metal Sonic or Orbot and Cubot as his sons. However, we do know that some of them seem to feel familial connections/at least desire a familial dynamic amongst each other that we know of.

As I showed above, Cubot did have a voice mode in the Japanese version of Colors where he would call Eggman his father and Eggman absolutely hated it.

In Rise of the Wisps, Orbot and Cubot express a desire to see Metal Sonic as their "big bro". Metal Sonic however, clearly isn't thrilled or into the idea, constantly looking pissed off to be around them.

Metal doesn't want anything to do with them and doesn't react well to the dynamic of seeing them like family, he's just like "whatever I don't have time for this" and focuses on the job that he's created to do, eager to ignore them and take off and get away from them.

Sage however, has expressed interest in Orbot and Cubot as being like brothers to her for being his creations too. Which Eggman half-heartedly went along with in a "I suppose so" shrug kind of way. Likely because he could see it made her happy and kept her loyal and useful.

But of course with all the examples I provided earlier in the post, he hasn't and still very much doesn't see them as his sons and still treats them terribly. Even in front of her, which is really interesting after he tried to entertain her desire to see them as her brothers before. Even that desire of hers doesn't stop him.

And lastly, it has been said that the "let's go dad" shirts Sage and Metal Sonic wore in Murder of Sonic were Sage's idea, so this tells us that Sage also wants to see Metal Sonic as her brother, which makes sense as she does with Orbot and Cubot too.

However, we don't know if this is mutual and if Metal wants to see her as a sister or not (for all we know, he could've been forced into the shirt by Eggman to keep Sage happy as we didn't get to see any enthusiasm from him lol) and this certainly wouldn't suggest how Eggman sees Metal still, especially with how he clearly still doesn't see Orbot and Cubot as his sons despite Sage wanting to see them as her brothers.

So yeah that's the current canon status of Eggman's relationship with his creations and his creations' relationships amongst each other. I think there's a lot of potential and fun ways to explore it without forcing them onto strict family role and tradition boxes because it's clearly much more complex than that.

They don't all see each other as family, Eggman doesn't automatically see and accept the idea of all his other creations being like his children too and some of them are even against the idea of being each other's siblings and don't get along like that. It's interesting to think about the difference in dynamics among each.

Eggman accepts Sage as his daughter but doesn't automatically see all the others as his children, while despite this Sage wants to see Orbot and Cubot and Metal Sonic as her brothers, and Orbot and Cubot want to see Metal as their brother but Metal clearly doesn't like the idea, etc.

There's also the potential complicated feelings and competition they could have against each other, especially when Eggman only sees Sage as his daughter and didn't see the others as his children before and so far it's quite clear he still doesn't see Orbot and Cubot as such even after Sage wants to see them as her brothers.

The ways Eggman could notice and exploit this to make all of them work even harder to please him to outdo each other, or possibly in hopes that he'll see them as family too if they're interested in that also has tons of potential. It's so much more fun than restricting them by putting them all in specific strict boxes.

Especially because not even the one dynamic that has the 100% known mutual familial feelings involved with Eggman and Sage are completely vastly different from the typical traditional expected dynamic canonically! I'd love to see more fanon not just embrace this but also the nuance and complexity between his creations with each other too. :D

[luvhughes43]

BABY LOVES | BLAKE HUGHES AU

[blake hughes au]

summary: blake and nico find out they're expecting their first baby + the announcement.

word count: 1.2k

the bitter wind nips at blakes neck and hands as she trudges back home from the corner store a few blocks away. walking it seems - is the only she was going to be getting her workouts in as she was too tired to do anything after work. she could feel that familiar fatigue now, the droop of her eyes as strangers whip past her in their cars. she had thought that she was just bored and the business of her schedule had been exhausting her, but naps became more frequent and the excuses less plausible. 

when she opens the door to hers and nico’s new place her animals quickly find her - another recent development. charlie, her doberman dog of the past 6 years, was anxious when it came to leaving blake unattended. goldie, the black cat, seemed to pick up on charlies traits and also loved to follow blake around the house. 

blakes phone rings and she answers easily, “yes i’m home now. completely safe,” 

“you shouldn't be out walking so late... it makes me nervous,” her husband replied in a thick swiss accident. she texted him where she was going out of habit, loving to narrate her day to him through brief texts. it made her feel like she was less alone when he was gone. 

“i’ll take the car next time. i was just hungry,” she supplies, setting her two heavy grocery bags onto the counter. “how was the game? i meant to watch but i fell asleep,” 

nico sighs, “you didn’t miss much” 

blake pauses from unloading her food, “i’m sorry. you guys will find your groove soon,” 

there was a brief silence on nico’s end and she could imagine the hurt and upset etched across his face from the teams losing streak. 

“yeah… uh, …” nico stumbles on his words. 

“i love you” blake speaks softly. 

nico sighs, “i love you. I’m sorry for being quiet tonight. i’m just tired of this…” the this in question being losing. 

before blake could manage a reply, the phone was snatched from nico’s hand and a surprisingly energetic jack spoke loudly into the speaker. 

“hey blakey, nico said you weren’t feeling well this week?”

“i’ve just been tired. nothing serious,” blake remarks, continuing her effort in putting her groceries away. she went a little too crazy in the small store and now she had three different salsas and a variety of chips all calling her name… 

“tired… i’m kind of tired too,” jack announces before entering his own conversation with his seatmate. 

the line went quiet again and for a second blake thought jack had hung up on her before nico’s voice sounded through her speaker. “alright well, i’ll let you eat. we’re just driving back to the hotel now so i’ll call before bed,” 

blake hums as she cracks open a jar of salsa labelled scorching, “alright love you, bye”. nico echoes her sentiments before hanging up the call. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

three boxes of pregnancy tests sit stacked under the cabinet in the master bedroom. since the teams baby shower last week, blake has had this overwhelming feeling that she was pregnant. it would explain the fatigue, the sickness, all the food, and the animals being so protective over her… she just had to wait for nico to come back home from a roadie so that she could test. 

she was anxiously sitting on the couch with charlie resting across her lap when the front door opens loudly. “blake?” nico calls out, setting his suitcase in the entryway before walking into the living room. 

“hi,” blake breathes out nervously as she wrings her hands in her lap. 

“whats going on? are you okay?” nico’s eyes melt as he tries to study blakes face. 

“i think i’m pregnant,” blake gets off the couch slowly, and nicos eyes follow her every movement. “i just have this feeling and i-”

“have you taken a test?” he asks and the corners of his mouth twitch as his excitement grows. they had been talking about starting to try for a baby a lot recently and nico couldn't wait for them to have a family of their own.

“no but i have some upstairs,” blake explains as nico grabs a hold of her hand. “i wanted to wait for you before taking any” 

five minutes later, nico and blake sit on the edge of their tub as the timer on nico’s phone counted down from 3 minutes. the newlyweds hold onto each other tightly as they eagerly await their results.

soon enough nico’s timer echoes throughout the bathroom and the two are enveloped in nervous tension as they each grab hold of two tests. with shaky hands they flip over all of the tests. 

pregnant

+

| |

pregnant 3+

“oh my gosh,” blake gasps as she turns to face nico with tears in her eyes. “we’re having a baby!”

nico’s slow to look away from all the positive tests but when he finally catches blake’s eye he starts softly crying. “we’re having a baby,” he echoes, pulling blake into a comforting hug. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blake.hischier posted 4 months ago

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, madisonbeer, and 37 919 others

blake.hischier late summer post🫂

tagged: nicohischier

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nicohischier Love you❤️

trevorzegras i miss the cat

user08 anyone notice how she hasn’t posted any full body / ootd pics recently? i miss them so much ive got no style inso now

user12 there’s a thread going around on twitter right now speculating that she’s pregnant and tbh i think she is!

user57 pretty girl!!💘

user94 baby hischier soon?👀

user36 i’m missing the podcast but i’m so happy that you’re moving onto new things! love you so much <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a few months later...

blake.hischier

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and 57 129 others

blake.hischier surprise !! rudi hischier was born in november 🧸🤍

tagged: nicohischier

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nicohischier Our boy🧸❤️

blake.hischier im crying again 🥹🤍

jackhughes 😭😭😭😭😭

jackhughes Now tell everyone that im his fav uncle

blake.hischier well….

trevorzegras middle name: trevor ✅

blake.hischier ?

_quinnhughes You guys are already the best parents. Rudi is so lucky that you’re his mom, i’m so proud of you blakey!

blake.hischier thank you so much quinny😭

lhughes_06 whens he getting in skates ?

user01 OH MY GOD?????

user24 i remember becoming a fan of yours when u were skating and now youre a mom… im crying

user16 they had a baby😭😭🫶

user87 your “N” necklace🫠 congrats u guys!!

nicohischier

liked by blake.hischier, curtislazar95, jesperbratt, and 43 012 others

nicohischier Rudi Hischier ❤️

tagged: blake.hischier

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blake.hischier my boys🥹🤍

tmeier96 congratulations to you two!

holtz_10 baby hisch in the house⚡️

lhughes_06 Cutest kid

dawson1417 Congrats guys!❤️

trevorzegras about the kids middle name .. 

_quinnhughes Love you guys, congrats!❤️

jackhughes nephew looking fresh💯

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[trulyhblue]

Baby England

Lionesses x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x reader (platonic).

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, coarse language, school, young reader.

A/N — still can't get over Sam's ACL. Like I woke up just to cry? No, thank you.

Masterlist

___________________________________

The Games Room was quiet for what seemed to be the first time ever. The team was sprawled throughout the room, some of them on their phones, others by mountains of pillows. Georgia and Keira were in the indoor pitch juggling with one another. Alex was having a soft conversation with Hempo, laughing at something one of them had said.

The serenity of the room was something you didn't catch often. Usually, the hustle of the team would echo across the walls, loud pints of laughter and screaming coming from one corner of the room to the other. Lucy was often yelling at Mario Kart, and Ellie was always strutting around Table Tennis in triumph, while everyone else grumbled on about how she was too good.

But for now, it was silent, save for the low conversations from the different groups. Even Lessi and Tooney were keeping in check, sharing a rocking chair with mounds of blankets hauled over the top of them.

For anyone else in the room, it would've been extremely relaxing.

For you, it was anything but.

You wanted to snap your pen in half, feeling the fatigue of yesterday's game daunting on your muscles. The words on your laptop were dancing behind the blur of your eyes. You struggled to stay concentrated as Leah sat next to you, taking her eyes off her phone every once while to make sure you were actually doing your homework.

The Euros were speeding by quicker than any of you could imagine. The outcome of your results, and the number of fans that had started to compile over the weeks, was indescribable. This was your debut camp for the Lionesses, and while you spent most of your time on the bench, making late appearances in the 70th minutes of games, you wouldn't change it for the world.

However, with all the excitement and privilege that came with representing your country in such a prestigious competition at Sixteen, you were faced with the challenge of keeping up with school.

When you first signed with the Lionesses, your parents were determined to keep you in school. Your education was very important, and if football ever ended badly for you, they wanted you to have something to fall back on. Growing up through the youth groups, and developing skills in the Arsenal Academy, you were used to the physical and emotional demands of a professional football career. Your parents were incredibly supportive of your dream to play, but their underlying worry when you were called up to the National Team was daunted on them.

So, to make everyone happy, you decided to take on the complicated challenge of juggling both football and school. This meant that in your spare time, all you did was study for exams, take the exams, and then study for the next one. It was an endless cycle of school and work, but you knew that it would be all worth it in the end.

The worst thing about it was that none of the girls were your age. Some of them had Uni work to do, but you were still mastering high school subjects. The workload wasn't nearly as draining, and they seemed to have it all sorted out in a few short hours while you were spending all of your extra time peeling away your useless worksheets, essays and papers.

Lots of the girls were lenient. None of them liked the idea of you cooped up in front of a screen. Hempo would buy you some crisps from down the road. Mary would make TikToks with you, Beth would scoop you up for cuddles and a movie. LJ would pull you away for Mario Kart. All the girls believed that you needed a break, especially in such a stressful time.

But Leah was the exact opposite.

You had known Leah since you were seven. You had met her during one of your Arsenal Youth games, immediately looking up to her as an older sister and role model. Even as a teenager, Leah holds a protective arm around you. She was always ready to defend you on the pitch, not only as a Captain, but as a friend. She wasn't afraid to put you in line — she was the only one who could send you running laps if you were too cheeky. She was strict, especially when you parents weren't there to boss you around, and everyone knew that her authority over you was nothing to debate.

You were training with the Arsenal Women's Team while you were still at the Academy. You're not quite sure why you were chosen in the squad, as you struggled to believe you made the cut at such a young age, but the England Captain didn't hesitate to make you put in the work.

She was a bit like your agent, always persuading you to do something when you weren't sure what to do yourself. You still weren't signed with a WSL team, but as the Euros progressed, teams from everywhere were banking up to sign you as soon as possible. You tried hard not to delve too deeply into it. You knew Arsenal was a main contender, and that's where you most wanted to go, but your focus right now was the Euros... and the essay in front of you.

"C'mon, get it done," Leah ordered, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, her hand carrying the weight on her head against the desk. You had been sitting there for over an hour, a total of one paragraph typed out on your screen. Outside, you could see Beth and Lotte playing Basketball. You threw your head backwards, groaning in respite. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing.

"No use whining about it." She spoke, still not looking at you. "'Might as well smash it out now so it's done."

"'Dunno what to write about." You grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets. You managed to slip a glance towards Esme, feeling your hopes lift up when she gave you a knowing nod.

But of course, Leah caught the interaction. "Hempo, no." She snapped, sending the Forward back to her seat. "You don't get crisps when you've done nothing to deserve it."

"Leah-"

"-Get on with it."

You slouched back into your chair, making sure your Huff was loud and overly obnoxious. Leah had no reaction, leaning back in her chair, and continuing to scroll on her phone.

"Y/N." She murmured in warning.

When you made no effort to keep going, she finally looked at you.

You could tell she was over it. She wasn't obliged to sit with you, but it was an unspoken rule that she did, otherwise, you would never get it finished. The older woman secretly felt bad for making you do it. If it was her choice, you wouldn't be doing school during the tournament. She understood your reluctance, but both of you could guess the consequences of your actions if you weren't handing it in.

"You've got half an hour." She snapped, her glare darkening. If she wasn't strict now, it'd end badly. "If it's not done, I'll bench you."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Lauren stop her Lego abruptly. Esme was no longer looking at her phone, instead tilting her head away from the tension rising in an attempt to not get involved.

Leah didn't have the power to bench anyone, the older girls knew that. But to your virtue, you thought that Leah was capable of anything. An abuse of power, maybe, but it worked all the same.

You begrudgingly tapped at your keyboard, making a point to roll you eyes when Leah set an alarm for half an hour. You were determined to keep your spot as a preferred sub, refusing to let Leah feel all smug at the fact that you couldn't finish the stupid essay.

Lauren continued on with her Lego. Esme was starting a new bracelet. Beth and Lotte's giggles were drowned out by the determination written all over your face. Without your knowledge, more and more people began to cram into the Game Room. First, Lucy, then Kei and Gee. A few minutes later, Alessia and Ella were doing a TikTok, their voices growing louder as the minutes went by. LJ walked past with confusion written across her features. She leaned over your shoulder, eyes slightly widening at the page full of words. She glanced to Leah's phone and the timer, then at Leah, who was staring off into the distance.

By five minutes left, you had written nearly two whole pages. Your hands were cramping, and your feet couldn't keep still. Chloe and Katie were surrounding you behind LJ, waiting for you to snap out of your trance and notice the crowd that had complied.

You were reading over your final sentences when the door crashed open, revealing Millie and Rach running in frantically with a cameraman hot on their trail. Their presence was so boisterous that everyone stopped to see who it was, watching in curiosity when the two women started searching the room.

"We need the Baby!" Millie screamed, scrambling onto the floor to check underneath the lounge. "We need the baby!"

Rachel was running to the bean bags, dashing past Lucy, Keira and Georgia playing Mario Kart. Everyone laughed in amusement at the cameraman struggling to keep up with the two of them.

"Where is she?!" Rach screeched at Esme and Lauren, ignoring the fits of giggle the pair were in. "Where's the baby?"

"Over here, idiots," Zelem stated, causing both their heads to dart in your direction. The girls surrounding you were quick to scatter, knowing the wrath of the two women was not something easily escapeable. Millie was about to yank you from under your shoulders when Leah moved in front of you, her prior amusement halting, replaced with her usual sternness.

You were closing your laptop at the sight of the camera, beaming at the thought of freeing yourself.

"Not now, Bright," Leah uttered, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair. "She's got school."

Instead of leaving you be, the duo closed in on you, beckoning the camera over to your work sprawled across the table.

Both of them held tiny mics, holding them up to their mouths as they spoke.

"Here we've got the Arsenal Protege in her natural habitat. Born and raised in red, she seems to be researching ways to leave."

"Both Arsenal and Leah."

Leah's face contorted into deep offence. "Hey!"

"Yes, it appears she is." Rachel nodded vigorously, picking up your book, pretending to read it. "She has written down Aston Villa as her top contender. Not only is she fast, but smart too."

Millie hugged you from behind. "But we all know what side of London she's thinking of, isn't that right? Smart, little, blue she'll be, am I right, Williamson?"

The camera panned to Leah, who was not looking at all amused. The thought of you being at any other club felt absolutely gut-wrenching to her. Like her, you had grown up bleeding in North London. She wouldn't trade any other player twice as good as you if that meant you'd stay. But while she'd never admit it, Leah wasn't worried about you leaving Arsenal. She was more worried that you'd leave her.

"Over my dead body." She snapped, wrenching the Chelsea woman's arms away from you, swerving your chair back to face your laptop. "Now, off you go, she needs to get this done."

"I've finished it, Lee." You muttered, feeling embarrassed at the fact that fans would prune over the way you were bossed around. When it came to your figure in the media, it was mainly regarding your blamelessness in comparison to your more experienced teammates. You were often babied by the girls, and fans adored the interactions you would have with them, especially with Leah.

Your Captain looked at you, crossing her arms. "You promise me you're done?"

"Promise." Your cheeks heated as the snickers fell from Daly's lips. You nodded, slowly inching off your seat. "Please, Lee, I've been stuck here for hours."

"Yeah, c'mon, Williamson, let her come to the dark side." Millie barked, causing Leah to grumble at the notion.

It took her a few moments to decide whether or not to let you go, huffing in defeat when she turned off her phone. "Fine. But no Chelsea or Villa talk, swear to Go—"

You were off before she could finish her lecture. Millie had picked you up, lifting you over her shoulders as Rach followed behind. The three of you ran into the indoor training pitch, with the poor cameraman following after you hopelessly.

When Millie plopped you down, you engulfed the warmth of someone's lap. You craned your head back to find Jordan looking back at you, her beady, toothy grin beaming back at you. The Arsenal midfielder wrapped her arms around you as you made the effort to snuggle into her body. Jordan was like your second mother when you were away from home. She was an ongoing support that wore her heart on her sleeve. She was different from Leah's opposing relentless, being more of a calm before the storm, less sentimental but effusive nonetheless.

You were supposed to be Jordan's substitute during your time at the Euros, but her knee injury had ruled her out. Therefore, the woman was only there when the squad wasn't training.

You noticed the multiple cameras surrounding the couch you were all squeezed on, but the attention felt a little less daunting with the comfort of the girls around you.

"We've got some questions for you," Millie spoke, revealing some palm cards from God knows where.

You nodded, keeping your head on Jord's chest. "Ask away."

"Who is your favourite teammate?"

You thought to yourself for a second before shrugging. "Jordan."

Rach scoffed. "Boring."

"Yeah, next!" Millie rolled her eyes. "Who would win in a fight, me or Daly?"

"Why am I answering these?!" You laughed, shaking your head. "You could've asked anyone."

"Those aren't the real questions." Jordan prodded, leading the two women to laugh their heads off at their supposed humour. You looked around at everyone, extremely confused about what you were here for. There were a few PR Managers behind the media setup, all with clipboards in their hands. You managed to catch Jordan eyeing Bright and Daly, squeezing your body a little tighter.

"Yeah, yeah, we're just having a laugh." Mils chortled, straightening up before continuing. "We're to announce that Baby England here has been asked to answer a few questions on behalf of the team."

You watched the centre-back intently. "Why me?"

"Dunno." Rach shrugged, followed shortly by Mil's voice. "Just 'cause."

"Alright, then, by who?"

"God, you'd think with all that schoolwork you'd be a bit brighter."

Jordan huffed from behind you. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright." Rachel scoffed, taking out the same cards as Millie had, the England Lioness logo plastered on the back. "So, seriously now, how do you think the Lionesses have worked throughout the Euros?"

You were never the one to be faced with serious questions in interviews. In fact, you had only ever attended one or two. At Arsenal, you were in the Academy, meaning the media surrounding you and your team was very scarce. As a representative of your National Team, the two interviews you had been a part of were your induction and your Player of the Match award at the end of one of the games. You weren't used to being in the spotlight like your England teammates, but you were not opposed to being overshadowed by them either. You knew you had a lot to learn, you were happy to play alongside them.

“Erm, I'm not quite sure.” You posed, blushing at the laughter that followed. “I'm very proud to be a part of it… this is a big opportunity for me, and I'm grateful for having the chance to represent my country.”

“True English,” Mils said fondly, finding the camera with her eyes. “Modest as always.”

Jordan hugged you tighter. “Let her finish, Millie.”

“But I think all of the girls think that, even to a bigger scale than me.” You continued, fidgeting with your hands. “It's a home Euros so… we all want to bring it home. I think that's one of the main contributors — the pressure, but also the idea of winning. We all want our families and country to be proud. So, yeah, and because we all love football. That's a given.”

“That was a bloody good answer, Baby England,” Rach commented. Her hand was rubbing your shoulder, her legs crossed over each other on the lounge. The Defender behind her was smiling, propping herself into a more comfortable position before she spoke.

“Speaking of,” She smirked. “Are you bothered by your nickname ‘Baby England?’ Do you feel a bit bugged by it?”

You giggled into Jordan, your cheeks inevitably heating up. “Erm, yes and no. I mean, I know I'm the youngest but I’ll go back to training and the girls will be teasing me for it.”

“Do you want to stay in the Academy?” Rach asked. “What’s your plans after the Euros?”

“Not sure.” You shrugged. “Hopefully we finish with Gold, that's the hope, obviously. But, I’ll just have to see.”

Both women looked at each other, then the camera, hiding their smiles concurrently. Jordan and you watched in confusion.

“Should we start the list of offers you've got right now?” Daly chortled. “I can think of five on the top of my head.”

“Who’s your top five?” Millie continued, leaning in and mouthing her club Chelsea.

“Leah would kill me!” You laughed, shaking off the question. “I was talking to Lessi and Lotte about the States, cause my parents still want me to have an education. But to be fair, my agent hasn't told me any offers. I don't think she will until the Euros are over.”

“Well, you heard it hear first.” Rachel beamed. “Baby England to Villa!”

The Cameraman was about to end the video when a booming fury echoed from across the room.

All heads turned to an enraged Leah storming over. “I said no Villa talk!”

__________________________________

yourusername (pretend it's you and Leah)

yourusername — sorry @ rachdaly, no Villa talk

Comments

milliebright — u say nothing about Chelsea, right?

^ leahwilliamson — don't even go there.

lionesses — football’s coming home 🫶🏼

racheldaly — I’ll find a way

^ leahwilliamson — no you won't.

user1 — Leah fighting for Y/N’s spot at Arsenal more than Arsenal themselves LMAO

^ user2 — she really said North London Forever

lottewubbenmoy — Baby England 🫶🏼

alessiarusso99 — beautiful girls

*liked by yourusername, leahwilliamson

User3 — is this an Aston Villa denial confirmation?

^ user4 — I think shes just referencing the YouTube video or Her, Jordan, Mils, and Rach.

^ user5 — shes got all these offers, who knows

^ user3 — she practically confirmed she was going to North Carolina in that video tho

^ user4 — 🤷‍♀️ you could say that is is an Arsenal Confirmation since Leah’s in it. Fr tho idk.

Leahwilliamson — my 🌟 girl

^ user6 — their friendship is so cute

User7 — All these clubs want her, WHERE WILL SHE GO

^ yourusername — 👀

^ user7 — STOP DO NOT DO THIS TO ME

__________________________________

[daceydeath]

Dance Practice

Pairing: Yeosang x reader Word Count: 1.6K Genre: Smuty smut smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities

What started as some friendly assistance in helping you master some choreography morphs into something so much more

You were meant to be concentrating, but Yeosang wasn’t making that easy, being a trainee was everything you wanted and although you had tried to audition for so many companies, you ended up only having one option, KQ. It had its disadvantages but the advantages far outweighed them. One of the biggest was being in the vicinity of Ateez. So here you stood as Yeosang so kindly offered to help you out with the choreography after watching you utterly failing to pick it up as fast as the other trainees that were using the spare practise room that he had reserved for the afternoon, and you could not keep your mind on anything other than how his arms loong in that black tank top. Biting your lip hard you tried desperately to stop your mind from undressing him as you watched him move so gracefully in the mirror in front of you, his movements precise and perfect, which of course they would be it was choreography that he performed constantly that you couldn’t seem to be able to even begin to master.

“I know Hala Hala is intense but I’m sure you can get it” Yeosang smiled in the mirror looking at you as you pinched your eyebrows together, you were unendingly grateful that he thought your frustration was to do with the choreography and not the ache developing in your lower half,

“Thank you for helping me Yeosang sunbaenim” you smiled genuinely, bowing as he turned to look at you properly. “You are far too kind”.

“Do you want me to go over it again or would you like to practice tomorrow?” he asked in his honey voice, making it even harder for you to keep your mind on the task at hand.

“Oh perhaps tomorrow? I don’t want to take up anymore of the time you had reserved for yourself” you bowed again not wanting to take advantage but also desperate to be slightly further away from him so you could clear the thick fog of lust from your brain. 

“It’s really fine. I only wanted to work on some of our choreography for our comeback. I can do that later, I really think I can help you if we give it an hour” he smiled cheerfully, already moving to get the music cued up. Tying your baggy dance shirt at your waist so that you had some control over it you nodded and accepted your fate that you would learn the choreo then go home and have a long evening with your vibrator. “Let’s do it one more time without the music and then we will try it faster”.

Nodding you got into position to his right watching him run his hand through his hair as he counted you in and started to teach you the first half of the song grinning everytime you picked something up easily and slowing his movements every time you struggled. He repeated himself over and over until he could see each movement click in your mind,  walking to the back of the room you saw him grab his own drink bottle sipping slowly as he watched you finish the last run through on your own.

“Take a water break” he urged, handing you a bottle of water.

“Thank you” you breathed heavily gulping down a few mouthfuls of water.

“Is there anyone you need to let know why you’re late home?” he asked suddenly, looking slightly guilty, that he was taking up your time.

“No, I’m allowed to come and go from the dorm for practice” you blinked confused at the odd expression clouding his pretty face.

“Good, just didn't want to be responsible for causing you trouble” he sighed pleased.

“I’d happily get in trouble for you” you whispered softly, unable to stop yourself and when he curled one of his perfect eyebrows towards you, you slapped your hand over your mouth, your face burning with embarrassment. “I am so sorry” you swallowed hard looking at the floor hoping a sink hole would open up beneath you.

“I didn't quite catch that” he smirked, stepping closer to you until he was almost standing right before you. “Care to repeat that princess?”.

“Um…I…uh” your fumbling just made you feel worse until Yeosang took your chin between his fingers forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I thought I heard something about getting in trouble?” His smirk morphing into a shit eating grin that had your heart racing.

“Yes trouble” you breathed unable to move a muscle.

“I'm going to get you in so much trouble, princess” he continued his other hand locking onto your hip and pulling you hard against him, with your bodies now flush you could feel the way his cock twitched against you and it made your mouth go dry. He gave you a few moments to move away and when you didn't his lips crashed into yours making you gasp, taking the opportunity you gave him he licked into your mouth his tongue dancing with yours. Your lips stayed locked together until you were almost dizzy, breaking away only long enough for him to thread his fingers into your hair and pull you back to him. Backing you up until you were trapped between his hard body and the cold glass of the mirror.

“Yes” you moaned breathily as he kissed his way across your cheek to your jaw then down your neck.

“Tell me to stop if you don't want this” Yeosang mumbled into your hot skin.

“Want this sunbaenim” you whimpered, his hands cupping your breasts and massaging them roughly through your clothes. You could feel him smile against your throat as his hands moved to push your sweat pants down your hips enough that he could slip his fingers between you waiting wet folds.

“It's Yeosang, just Yeosang” he purred, quickly finding your clit and circling it with his fingers making your body jolt.

“Fuck, Yeosang” you yelped softly, spreading your legs wider for him and letting your head fall back against the glass.

“You going to let me have you angel? Right here where anyone could walk in and see you?” He teased his fingers shallowly pressing into your entrance. You nodded silently, breath coming out in short pants the more he toyed with you. “Need to use your words my pretty little angel”.

“Yes Yeosang. Please” you finally gasped, pleading for him to continue touching you. His smile turned almost predatory as he finally pushed two of his fingers inside you stretching your walls in preparation.

“Get undressed” he ordered, chuckling as you fumbled to get your shirt and bra off while he continued pumping his fingers inside you his cocky smile returning as you whined in protest as he slipped his fingers from you to pull his own tank top over his head his wet fingers deftly untying his own drawstrings as he kicked off his shoes. “We don’t have all day, angel”.

Swallowing hard you toed your own shoes off stepping away from the mirror towards him and shimmying out of your pants leaving you in only your underwear in the empty dance studio in the middle of the afternoon. Pulling you back into his arms he kissed you again running his hands over your body, squeezing your arse and things while you ran your fingers across his perfect abs. Sliding his hands down your thighs he hoisted you up encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist before pressing you against the wall next to the mirror.

“So you can watch me fuck you angel” he whispered huskily making your shiver against him. Slipping the cotton of your underwear aside you expected his fingers to return to you core but when the blunt and swollen head of Yeosang’s cock began stretching you open you had to bite down on your lower lip hard to stop from crying out.

“Yeosang” you mewled as he bounced you roughly on his cock his length stretching you walls harshly as he snapped his hips against your arse.

“Fuck you feel like heaven” he groaned lowly against your throat when he mouthed at your flesh licking and sucking at your skin. The quiet of the room was broken by heavy breaths and slapping skin until a loud knock against the door started. You gasped your walls, quivering around Yeosang who grunted softly and thrusted harder into you as a wave of your arousal soaked him.

“Sangie? You in there?” Wooyoung yelled, waiting a few seconds before trying the handle which rattled a few times. Yeosang pressed his lips to yours, his tongue tangling with yours to silence your noises as he continued pounding into you until Wooyoung left, leaving you teetering on the edge of orgasm, your walls quivering around him.

“Yeosang, Fuck” you choked out while your eyes rolled back your walls clamping down on his dick as you came hard Yeosang followed you over the edge letting your walls milk him of his hot seed before kissing you softly on your cheeks and nose.

“So you like being caught huh?” he chuckled teasingly, continuing to hold you against the wall “I’ll remember that for next time”.

“Next time?” you breathed unevenly trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah when I take you out on a date” he smiled, genuinely lowering you to the floor carefully to make sure you could stand properly, you grinned letting him collect your clothes from the floor before he helped you into them and helped you leave while avoiding any of his members who may still have been lingering.

a/n: Thank you my lovelies for reading this and leaving me likes, reblogs and comments as little breadcrumbs of joy xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @skersey33

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar needs to track his wife and save his marriage.

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Ivar had been in an absolute rage since (Y/N) left the house. The worst thing was that she had been in such a hurry to get away from him that she had left her phone on the charger, so he couldn’t even call her.

He couldn’t track her, all he could do was call his own private investigator and hope his outrageous price was enough to motivate the man to work hard and fast.

Even still, with every minute that passed his anger was growing. He paced in his bedroom restlessly as he waited for his phone to ring, but it was as silent as prayers.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Ivar nearly broke his neck, turning to (Y/N)’s phone as it chimed on the floor by the bed.

He picked it up and saw it wasn’t a phone call, but an alarm going off.

6:30AM Antidepressants for breakfast :(

Ivar read the name of the alarm five times before he turned it off, when he did he saw even more oddly named alarms that weren't turned on.

7:30AM Online Therapy

12:30AM Eat or you will starve

5:00PM Cook Ivar’s Dinner

7:00PM Throw Away Ivar’s Dinner

8:00PM Antidepressants for Dinner

10:00PM Burn Book Entry

What the hell was this, Ivar thought as he read them over again and again.

Antidepressants?

He ran to the master bathroom and opened (Y/N)’s medicine cabinet, sure enough there were prescription pill bottles. They were right in front, but Ivar had never noticed them before, he never paid attention before.

He took a picture of the bottles and sent them to his family’s private doctor and called the old man as well.

‘Yes, Master Ivar? Is there an emergency with your wife?’ the old doctor asked groggily.

‘What are these medications you have been giving (Y/N) behind my back, Floki?’ Ivar accused.

‘I didn’t do anything behind your back; I get paid to treat members of your family. It's not my fault you forgot to treat your wife like she was family now.’ Floki yawned on the other end.

‘Excuse me?’ Ivar asked, anger rising again.

‘Don’t act like I just told you fire is cold boy, you haven’t paid the poor girl a speck of attention. The fact that I’m only getting this call after all these years treating her is proof enough.’ Floki said bluntly.

Ivar’s ears were burning in shame and anger, the same way they did when he was a child getting scolded.

‘What are these medications?’ Ivar asked again.

‘Antidepressant, Mood stabilizer and an Appetite stimulant. Ivar, your wife has developed severe depression over the last two years, the first two she’s been taking for a while, they cause loss of appetite so the stimulants are new since she has been losing weight too rapidly recently.’ the doctor explained.

‘Why am I just hearing about this?’

‘I can only give information I’m asked for, why are you just now asking? Is (Y/N) well?’

Ivar bit his lip angrily before explaining he wanted his wife’s full medical history in his email at once.

Before Floki could reply Ivar ended the call and went back to looking at the pill bottles in wonder and disgust.

He had been given a summary of (Y/N)’s health before he’d chosen her to be his wife, and while he didn’t remember things like her date of birth, he would have recalled if she had been diagnosed before the wedding.

Was being married to him so horrible it impacted her health so severely?

Ivar picked up her phone again, taking in the lock screen, a picture of her and her parents on a balcony. She stood between them, arms over their shoulders and a wide smile across her face.

Her phone didn’t have a lock code so Ivar didn’t feel too bad when he sat on the bed and began snooping. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for really, but he was sure he’d find something of value.

Preferably, he’d find a clue about where she would go so late.

Ivar started with the messages and was surprised at how few conversations there were to see; she spoke mostly to her parents, and there were other short exchanges between his family members and staff.

He opened the messages between (Y/N) and her mother, they seemed to talk at least once a week.

Mom: Are you eating?

(Y/N): At least one full meal and a vitamin in the morning.

Mom: That isn’t enough, call me right now!

It was at that moment that Ivar realized that she could only have gone to her parents house a few blocks away.

He clicked on her conversation with himself and was disgusted by what he saw, of course these messages were on his own phone but he never looked at them like this. Like he was looking for a warning sign that (Y/N) wanted a divorce.

(Y/N): I made pasta, and I tried a new recipe this time.

Ivar: K

(Y/N): I left your plate in the fridge

Ivar: I have a dinner reservation with Maggie

(Y/N): I understand

Ivar: We have a Gala tomorrow, don’t embarrass me

(Y/N): I will wear what Margrethe sends me.

Ivar set the phone aside and rubbed his face tiredly.

Even to himself he sounded like a dick in those messages; ignoring her, demanding things of her, talking down to her. Ivar could remember typing these responses, just a quick few taps on his phone to convey a message while he walked around his office building. He never liked texting so he always kept things brief, but he usually put in an effort to be civil in messages.

Why hadn’t he taken the time to read these before he sent them, Ivar thought to himself; because he shouldn’t have to. (Y/N) was already his wife, there shouldn’t need to be discomfort, she should be able to understand him.

(Y/N) was the one keeping secrets and plotting to divorce him. He shouldn’t have to grab his keys and rush over to her parents’ house, but he does it all the same.

Ivar parked in their humble driveway and stared at the house in defiance.

Ivar quickly reminded himself who he was, a wealthy man picking up his wife after she threw a dramatic tantrum. He wasn’t here to apologize or explain himself, if anything (Y/N) should be the one explaining why she waited so long to inform him about her diagnosis.

She was the one keeping secrets in their marriage.

With that in mind he got out and approached the door to knock but it opened before he even made it to the porch.

‘You are not welcome here!’ his mother in law shouted as she stormed out into the night to meet him face to face.

She had fire in her eyes and her fists were balled as she advanced on him, making Ivar immediately freeze in place.

‘You sign those papers and you leave my girl the fuck alone, do you hear me Ragnarson?’ she said angrily, poking Ivar hard in the chest.

Ivar looked worse off than a deer in headlights, a more appropriate comparison would be a fish in a barrel.

Of course he hadn’t seen his in-laws since the rushed wedding, but this mad woman had looked happy enough to marry (Y/N) off to him then. So why is she giving him such a disgusted look now?

‘I-I came to pick up (Y/N).’ he managed to say.

‘Absolutely not! My daughter will not be going anywhere with you. She is going to stay here, her eyes shouldn’t land on you outside of a courthouse! Honestly, what were we thinking when we accepted your mother’s proposal?’ the woman scoffed.

‘Honey!’

This time it was his father in law coming out of the house, immediately taking the place beside his wife.

Ivar watched the older couple communicate silently, him sending her a look that made her take a deep breath.

‘Ivar, my wife has made our decision more than clear. Even still; I will apologize for her unprofessional language.’ Mr. (Y/L/N) said stiffly in a formal tone.

Unprofessional? These were his in-laws, sure it was attached to a business deal, but nonetheless these were supposed to be his extended family members. From what he’s heard from other men in the office, his mother in law was probably never going to like him; but he felt the formal tone wasn’t necessary.

‘(Y/D/N), I’m here to pick up my wife.’ Ivar said again, standing up straighter. If he was going to be spoken to like a random business partner then he’d return the courtesy.

‘I’m sorry, but you will not be doing that.’ the old man said firmly.

Ivar knew what this was, it was his favorite thing in the world.

A challenge.

Ivar knew what it was when he suddenly felt the power struggle between himself and (Y/N)’s father.

‘Won’t I? Sir?’ Ivar asked smugly.

‘You won’t. My daughter has already told us that she’s asking for a divorce, and quite frankly I believe it is about time.’ (Y/D/N) said plainly.

‘Past time, you’re lucky she stayed for as long as she did.’ the mother added in.

Ivar looked away for a split second, unable to face the righteous tone of his father in law, before he put his mask back up.

‘Excuse me? I’d hate to leave here alone and cancel all our existing contacts.’ Ivar challenged.

‘We had a very beneficial business partnership for a few years, but my daughter is more important. Cancel whatever you like, I can build another company.’

‘Leave the contracts.’

This time all three of them turned and saw (Y/N) coming out of the house. Her eyes were puffy from crying but they were hard, her expression stone solid as she looked at him in distaste.

‘(Y/N), we can start fresh with a new business; it’ll be even easier this time, you’ve done enough.’ (Y/M/N) pleaded with her daughter.

‘If we do that what did I waste the last four years for? I’ll be fine this time, I promise.’ (Y/N) said soothingly.

‘(Y/N)!’ the mother cried in desperation as she tried to physically pull her child back into the house.

‘Mom, don’t worry. I will come by sometime later this week.’ (Y/N) said, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

She did the same to her father, Ivar could hear the old man offer to shut everything down now, and he heard her decline the offer.

When (Y/N) turned to face him she looked right through him, walking past him without speaking and getting into his car.

‘Ivar.’ (Y/F/N) said, regaining his attention.

‘Sign the papers, do her that one kindness.’ he advised.

‘She is my wife.’ Ivar said weakly.

‘I’ve seen wet shits make for a better husband than you, Ivar Ragnarson. If the world was fair she never would have ended up with scum like you, she would be home, healthy and happy.’ his mother in law said coldly before she stormed back into the house and slammed the door closed.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the silent night, but Ivar kept his poker face firm as again his father in law faced him.

‘When I was your age, I knocked down any man who upset my wife. Lucky for you those days are in the past, but that is my daughter in your car. If she ever comes home the way she did tonight…there is not enough money in your bank to keep me at bay. Are we clear son?’

Ivar tilted his head.

‘Are you threatening me?’ Ivar asked partially in amusement, but mostly in pure disbelief.

‘I’m telling you as a father, there will be severe consequences if I see her in that state ever again. Are. We. Clear?’ the older man said, his tone even and his eyes wild.

Ivar felt the severity of the man’s words and he chose not to respond, silently walking to the car.

He held his breath until he heard the front door close behind him before he got into his car.

In the passenger seat (Y/N) sat in silence and she didn’t even seem to notice him sitting beside her.

‘Are you satisfied now that you put on your show? Made a big scene for your parents?’ Ivar began to scold as they were on the way back home.

‘Shut up Ivar.’

Ivar was lucky they were at a stop sign, he imagined he would have crashed had the car been moving when she said it.

‘What did you just say?’ he asked.

‘Shut up. You hate talking to me so just shut up, make it easy on us both.’ (Y/N) said, looking out her window in boredom.

‘Is it the medication you hide from me that’s making you think you can speak to me this way.’

This time she scoffed a little laugh.

‘Yes the pills I hid in the front of my cabinet, how ever did you discover my secrets?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Stop this.’ Ivar demanded.

‘The only thing I’m going to stop doing is wasting time trying to be a good wife to you. If you insist on keeping this sham marriage then fine; but I’m done participating in it.’ she said, never looking away from the window.

Her tone was so dry and dead it seemed to echo in the silence that followed it.

Ivar drove the rest of the way home in silence, watching her in his peripheral vision. (Y/N) didn’t move, she didn’t talk, she didn’t cry; Ivar was almost sure she didn’t even blink.

She just sat with her forehead against the passenger window and stared silently.

When he parked in their driveway she still sat still as stone.

‘Did you want to stay in the car all night, or are we finally going to sleep?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

She didn’t reply to him at all, just opened the door and got out. Ivar followed behind her and watched as she lazily walked to the door and waited for him to unlock it.

Her eyes were focused on the sky, specifically the sun that was beginning to rise. She looked at it for as long as she could before she followed Ivar inside and he closed the door.

‘I never want to hear the word divorce come out of your mouth again. And tomorrow I will be taking you to Floki for a full check up.’ Ivar instructed as he at last took off his shoes.

‘Why? You think Floki gave me something that made me act out of line? Or are you actually worried about my health?’

‘Of course I’m-‘

Ring! Ring! Ring!

His phone rang shrilly, interrupting whatever he was trying to say; and eager for a way out of this uncomfortably vulnerable conversation, Ivar hurriedly answered.

He knew only one person would be bold enough to call him at this hour.

‘Maggie?’

Ivar turned away from (Y/N) to give his full focus on the phone call, the way he always did.

‘Ivar! Me and my friend got too drunk at the restaurant, can you pick us up?’ Margrethe said loudly on the other end, going in and out of a horrible singing voice as she spoke.

‘I’ll be there in thirty.’ he sighed tiredly, already begrudgingly going to put his shoes back on.

‘I’m going to drop off Maggie, we’ll talk in the morning.’ Ivar said over his shoulder as he went to leave, but he stopped when he didn’t get a reply.

When Ivar turned around all he saw was an empty foyer.

‘(Y/N).’ he called once more before he went upstairs to find her gathering the remains of her soggy forgotten salad.

She went to walk past him to presumably throw out the trash but Ivar stopped her by grabbing her arm.

‘I’ll be back soon, we’ll talk more in the morning.’ he announced.

‘No we won’t, something will happen with your favorite “family friend” and you won’t show up. I don’t know what yet, could be a stomach virus that needs hospital treatment, or an urgent meeting she forgets to reschedule; whatever it is doesn’t matter.’ (Y/N) dismissed with audible certainty.

He let go of her arm just to run his hands down his face.

‘Why do you always insist on bringing Margrethe up? This, our marriage, has nothing to do with her.’ he said, this time preparing for whatever argument she had.

‘Have you ever told her that?’

Ivar was stunned into silence by the question.

(Y/N) pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued on her way to the kitchen to throw away her salad.

Ivar followed her and he saw her roll her eyes in annoyance when she saw him behind her.

‘Why are you even still here right now, Ivar? Don’t you have a damsel in distress to save?’ she asked as she began to clean her dirty dishes.

Ivar felt a rush of undignified anger wash over him, he had to bite back a sharp response to keep his anger in check. Before he could reply he felt his phone ring again in his pocket.

‘Tick tock Ivar, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room when you get back; and don’t pester me today. I’m sleeping in until the bed makes me sore, then I’m going out with my family for lunch, and my sister is taking me out clubbing.’ she said as she placed her bowl and fork in the drying rack.

‘Clubbing? Where?’ Ivar asked, he had never heard his wife even mention going anywhere other than the store.

‘Not telling you.’ she dismissed.

Again Ivar’s phone rang rudely before he could speak and it was all starting to annoy him, he couldn’t even have this important conversation right now.

‘We’re going to talk about this when I get back.’ he said firmly before he went to leave, but he heard her mumble to herself before he made it out of the kitchen.

‘We won’t.’

[regency-monster-love]

Gargoyle arranged marriage, chapter 8

Master list for this fic

Male gargoyle x female human | Regency era | SFW: fluff, family angst, crying

~ 😈🎩 ~

Winifred's life was full, and she was happy.

During the day, she'd started going out on visits to the tenants and neighbors, helping those that needed her charitable support as she was now a titled lady, and socializing with those that needed nothing more than companionship. One or two ladies seemed like they could develop into genuine friends already. She'd also walk the gardens or visit the village with her maid, shopping and talking.

During the evenings, she'd visit with Hugo. If the weather was fine, she'd go flying with him, and if not, she might play pianoforte while he listened, or simply sit silently reading together.

And during the nights, they'd make love. He was always sweet and gentle, and they both enjoyed it greatly.

Afterwards, Hugo would stay with her as she fell asleep, but every morning she’d wake up alone. She wished it didn’t have to be this way, but she reminded herself that this was the reality of being married to a gargoyle. And the blow was often softened by finding something that he had left for her on the breakfast table. Not just flowers, but once a mother-of-pearl hair comb, and sometimes a book with a note sticking out from its pages: Read this last night and this part reminded me of you, or, I think you will enjoy this poem. She liked that she could share in his life in these small ways even when they were apart. And at least her days were far less lonely.

Hugo felt so much less lonely too. He hadn't realized just how dull and gloomy his life had been before Winifred came into it with all of her life and color. She made him happier than he’d been since he was a child with his beloved parents.

But all honeymoons have to come to an end. And theirs was ending with a formal dinner for Winifred's parents. Winifred had delayed inviting them for as long as possible, not wanting to bring their coldness into the warmth of the new life she was creating with Hugo, but it could not be put off any longer.

It went even worse than she expected.

Living with her parents, Winifred had hardened herself to their neglect and indifference. She had been used to it, so it caused her little pain. But now, after living with Hugo's care and affection for weeks, her thick skin had worn away and left her vulnerable again.

When her parents first entered the house, Winifred beamed at them, and rushed to take their hands. “Mama, Papa, how long we’ve been apart! I’m so happy to see you again!”

Neither of them made any move to kiss her, nor squeeze her hands back. “Well, yes, that is what occurs when one marries, Winifred,” her mother said coolly. Her father said nothing.

“Of course,” Winifred said meekly, dropping their hands and stepping back.

Hugo noticed his wife deflate at once, his own smile dropping away as well. He didn’t like how her parents had no kind comment to make to their sweet daughter. But perhaps they were just the sort of people that found it uncomfortable to express affection in front of others. He would have to be sure to step away at some point this evening so that Winifred could have some private time with her parents.

But first, there was dinner—and awkward conversation, it turned out.

Winifred’s parents asked her nothing of what she had been doing for the last two weeks or how she was settling into being a wife, lady, and mistress of so large an estate. She tried to volunteer such information anyway, trusting that her parents must be interested in knowing that their only daughter was happy and what had made her so. But the response she got from them was lukewarm, at best.

For instance, she told them of how she was arranging for a few of the tenant children whose parents couldn't afford to send them to school to have free lessons with the vicar, so at least they might learn to read. “I might try teaching them a bit of mathematics, as well,” she added.

“You're no scholar, Winifred,” her father said.

“I suppose a little something is better than nothing,” was the closest thing to a commendation her mother could muster, then she turned to Hugo to praise the soup and enthusiastically ask him about his cook.

Hugo frowned, glancing at Winifred, and tried to politely steer the conversation back onto his wife and her endeavors, but her parents seemed utterly uninterested in anything he had to say about her.

By the time dinner was over, he was doubting whether it really would be good to give her any time alone with her parents, but Winifred’s father invited Hugo to drink with him following the meal, and etiquette demanded the ladies depart for that, so a tête-à-tête between mother and daughter, at least, was unavoidable.

As soon as the women were away from the males, Winifred’s mother rounded on her. “Why are you not wearing a cap? It has been driving me to distraction all evening. You're a married woman now, Winifred,” she scolded.

Winifred reached up to touch her hair gingerly. “Sir Hugo likes seeing my hair.”

Her mother's lip curled. She had never liked her daughter's red hair. “But it’s so garish! Ah, is this because gargoyles are all gray and bland? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that they have strange preferences, being so unattractive themselves.”

Winifred wanted to protest that Hugo was not unattractive, but she'd never spoken against her mother, so she said nothing.

“Well, you must do whatever makes your husband happy, so if he wishes you to not wear a cap, so be it,” her mother sighed. “And I must say, I’m glad that he doesn’t find you plain. Or, at least, not plain enough to object to. Your father and I would hate to have him sending you back to us. We were so very thankful that Sir Hugo had no qualms about marrying such a plain girl when we were arranging your marriage to him. You should be thankful for that as well, Winifred. I hope you tell him that.”

Her shoulders curved inward. “Yes,” she said quietly, “I’ll thank him for that.”

“Sit up straight, Winifred—slouching does your appearance no favors.”

She stiffened her back against her mother’s criticism.

When the males rejoined them, Hugo knew with a single glance at his wife that the conversation with her mother had not been pleasant for Winifred, but he couldn’t ask her about it with her parents present. His wings twitched in his impatience for them to be gone.

Thankfully, they didn’t stay much longer—everyone’s spirits seemed to be low by this point—but as soon as they left, Winifred told Hugo that she was very tired and would go straight to bed. He expressed concern that she was unwell, but she assured him she was all right, wished him a good night, and slipped away.

He knew she wasn’t telling him the truth, but was unsure what was the right course of action to take about it. Should he respect her privacy, especially since theirs was a marriage of convenience without that sort of emotional intimacy—but was it, really? That was how it started, but in just these few weeks he’d come to feel closer to her than anyone else in his life before, save his parents. Was he just flattering himself that Winifred felt the same way about him?

It didn’t matter���he was worried about her, and he had to find a way to help her. He strode to her bedroom, knocked, got no response, and cracked the door open to see if she was inside—and saw her weeping in her chair.

“Winifred!” he cried out as he rushed into the room to kneel at her feet. “What’s happened?”

“It’s nothing, don’t trouble yourself about it,” Winifred said, trying to hide her face, but still crying.

“It’s not nothing—I’ve never seen you so upset! Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The pleading distress in her sweet husband’s voice broke through her feeble defenses, and she sobbed anew. “They were so unkind tonight! My parents. They've always been, but I thought, now that I'm married, they might be proud of me, or, or, pleased with me at least—but I was such a silly fool for thinking that—I've done nothing special to earn their respect—”

“You're not a fool,” Hugo snapped, and Winifred was startled into silence—she'd never heard anger in his voice before. “My apologies—but you are not, because of course you expected them to treat you better than that—you're their daughter—and they should have, because you are special.”

She shook her head. “They've never thought so. Just tonight, my mother reminded me of how plain I am, and my father of how useless my work with the tenants is.” Hugo clenched his jaw to keep from interrupting Winifred again with his anger at her parents. His fists were clenched too.

“I've never pleased them,” she continued mournfully. “I don't even think they've ever really loved me.” Her voice twisted on those last words, and she dropped her head and covered her face to sob deeply for a few moments. Hugo's face was contorted with despair too, at seeing his wife so overcome with pain; he could do nothing except stroke her legs as he sat at her feet.

“I'm not worth loving,” she whimpered after several moments. “No one has ever loved me.”

Hugo's heart twisted and burned. “But Winifred…I love you.”

~ 😈🎩 ~

End of chapter 8 | Read next chapter | Master list for this fic

Next up: we get to see what happens when you push sweet, gentle Hugo too far by insulting his beloved wife. 😈

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing or my master list.

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