#and unclear motives AT BEST

[theajaheira]

i love being the kind of double thinker who can see the holes in my own argument & then immediately starts trying to attack them with a stick

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

First part | Prev | Next (INTERLUDE)

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[remarcely]

Batmanfic Prompt: WHAT IF Batman got turned into a cat and Red Hood found him?

(This was a prompt somewhere on Tumblr but I lost the original post, if you know who it was let me know so I can tag them)

There were good reasons behind Batman’s rules. ‘Don’t travel without bat-shark repellent’, he’d always managed to get caught off guard the few times it had been missing from his utility belt. ‘All dominoes must be fitted with lenses’ was another. He’d gotten too many bugs in his eyes during his first year to waver on that. Then there was his ban of magic. There were too many examples to count for that rule and, as Bruce looked down at his hands only to find two small black paws, that number appeared to be climbing.

He wasn’t sure why this magic user had come to Gotham, or how for that matter, but one thing he was certain of was that when his body was back to being human again, he was going to throw them off a roof. See if they land on their feet.

Bruce stuck to the shadows and walked behind dumpsters and kicked over bins, stepping over newspaper pages so trodden on they matched the grooves of the streets. He headed further down the alleyway, ears twitching with each droplet of water that fell from the metal fire escape stairs to the puddle collecting the left-over rain beneath it. Sounds of chatter and laughter escaped through the back door of a restaurant, which was cracked open and preventing the fire escape to lock the establishment properly. A fatal mistake in a city like Gotham, especially on such a night when Batman wasn’t in any shape to protect them.

One of their bins was one of the many that had been knocked over. Bruce could smell it, half-full of scraps of food, the delicious scent of cooked meat and fast food. His stomach rumbled and Bruce drew back in shame. He hadn’t eaten before leaving the manor that night, much to Alfreds displeasure, and his hunger had been gnawing away at his focus the entire night. Bruce glanced around warily and slowly crept forward. No one would cast a second glance at it, surely. Stray animals eating discarded food was nothing unusual and, unless that damned magic user was lurking nearby, he wouldn’t be recognised as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Of course, he would know, but this was hardly the worst thing he’d done.

Bruce darted forward before some unseeable force could stop him and tugged a mostly-wrapped flat shape from the bin. His sharp teeth tore the paper away to reveal most of a hamburger with a single bite taken out of the side. It must have been a mistake and returned. Bruce leaned closer and sniffed it. It smelled fine, nothing dangerous, and pretty damn tasty. His stomach gurgled again and, his hunger getting the best of him, Bruce took a bite. A very small bite, seeing as he was a cat and all.

He took another, and then another. He was pushing his nose further into the torn wrapping, lapping his tongue at the sauce, when two heavy footsteps at the mouth of the alley made Bruce freeze up. His head whipped back and tensed as he recognised the red helmet, illuminated by a single flickering street light.

The Red Hood.

The biggest threat to Gotham in the past few years, and not because of his kill count. It was high but, again, this was Gotham and they’d seen far worse. No, it was the unknown factor to the villain that terrified Bruce. He had no name, no face, and no idea who the murderer was. Even his motive was unclear and Bruce had struggled to piece together much to the mans goals, other than the death of the Joker and the destruction of Batman.

The Red Hood stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. There was nothing else of significance in the alley for him to be staring down other than Bruce. Painfully aware of the villains instability, Bruce took a few steps back until he was partially hidden behind the pile of garbage. Red Hoods chests moved strangely, almost as if he was laughing, but made no sound. It wasn’t until the man pressed something on the underside of his helmets jaw that Bruce could hear him speak.

“Hey there.” The villain spoke softly and crouched down. He removed one of his gloves and extended a hand for Bruce, trying to cajole him forward “Are you hungry, little guy?”

As demeaning as it was, meeting the Red Hood in the unwilling form of a cat was probably the best shot Bruce would get at gathering information on the villain. He acted the part and approached the man, bumping his nose into his bare fingers. The villain chuckled and petted him gently, scratching behind his ears.

“Not a little guy at all, are you?” He snorted at the flat stare Bruce gave him at the comment “You’re pretty big for a cat. Must be a fancy breed or something, huh?”

Bruce dared to place a paw on Red Hoods leg and stretched closer, nosing at his jacket and belt pouches. The Red Hood was armed to the teeth, guns holstered to each leg and another two hidden in his leather jacket.

Hood moved his scratches to under Bruces chin and neck “No collar.” He hummed and carefully picked Bruce up, adjusting the large cat to curl up on his chest half under his jacket “You’re all alone, aren’t you?”

Bruce paused. He’d never heard Hood sound so human before. Their previous meetings had consisted on taunts and threats, almost all of which were followed through on in the same breath. He had theorised that the Red Hood had undergone an intense trauma and found comfort in flying bullets and blood. Bruce could understand using violence to balance out the darker moments in people’s lives, he had done something similar through becoming ‘The Batman’, but hearing Red Hood speak so fondly to what he perceived as a stray hungry cat- it was too much. Bruce had found a ‘cat’ of his own, starving, and desperate, in an alley less than an hour away.

“How about I get you a proper meal.” Red Hood mumbled and ran his free hand up and down Bruces back, revelling in the softness of his dark fur. Bruce raised a front paw, batted his helmet lightly, and was stunned to hear him laugh “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bruce tensed and wriggled in the Red Hoods hold, not caring how ridiculous he might look. He’d only wanted to gather intel, not get the man emotionally attached to him. The shapeshifting-spell could wear off at any moment and he doubted the Red Hood would hesitate in shooting him if Batman suddenly appeared in his home.

“Fuck, stop that. It’s freezing out here, I’m doing you a favour, furball.” He grumbled and wrestled his hold on the cat.

Bruce yowled and made disgruntled noises when he realised he was completely pinned in place. He got louder when Red Hood laughed at him again, settling for swatting him with his tail.

-

Despite hating every moment of it, Bruce made sure to commit the route the Red Hood took as he returned to a safe house to memory.

[goldenocie]

Yo I forgot about this draft but essentially: fablesmp fairy tale AU but I try to connect everyone somehow. All of the player characters are here so it’s sort of a long post

Fable- evil king. The snow queen. Witch. Motive unclear but he’s trying to amass more magic for…something??

Icarus- Snow White. They lived a comfortable life in the palace until they showed power of their own and the king ordered them to be killed. Now lives with a bunch of birds in the woods

Rae- Cinderella. Despite being the late queens son, he is treated more like a palace maid. As kids, he and Icarus had a bad relationship but it got better as they grew up. He finds comfort by going down to the sea and speaking to the nice mermaid who shares stories of their life and by also sneaking chats with his fathers huntsman

Momboo- Sleeping beauty. The oldest of two sisters who were born of pure magic and somehow nothing else. She was able to escape the king when she was younger and he attempted to capture her, though he still managed to place a curse on her. Her life force is directly connected to a tree he planted and once it grows to full size she is destined to prick her finger on one of the branches and fall into a death like slumber. She lives in hiding now, the fairies that saved her are still around her occasionally

Ocie- Rapunzel. The younger of the magic sisters, she was not as lucky as her older sister and was locked in a tower by the king at a young age. It overlooks the sea and that’s all she’s ever known. She truly believes the king cares for her like family and that she is locked in there for her own protection.

Wolf- the Huntsman and the wolf. The former huntsman of the king, the king sent him to kill Icarus but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He lied to Fable, however this was found out and he punished him by turning him into a wolf.

Oscar- somehow all of the three little pigs in one. He made all three houses and got chased out of all of them :(, a wolf chased him to a tower which he climbed up and found a lady inside!

Centross- Robin Hood. Is definitely in love with one of the kings huntsmen. Centross witnessed him get turned into a wolf and tried to kill the king over it. However, the king framed him for Wolfs disappearance and guards chased him out of the city. He got chased out into the woods where he came across a weird guy with a lot of birds who definitely looks a little familiar. They fought for a bit until he got chased again to a tower that looks like it might hold something valuable

Jerry- Guard archetype. This criminal he’s chasing has been blamed for the disappearance of his best friend and while Jerry doesn’t believe that wolf is dead, he does believe that centross is to blame.

Athena- Little Red. A Prince from a now destroyed land being raised by their mother in the woods. She warned them not to stray from the path but damnit there were shiny things out there… They were chased by a large wolf before running into a strange person with many birds. He’s staying with them for the time being until the coast is clear…

Jamie- Goldilocks/beast. Jamie woke up one day as a small bear cub with no memory. Unbeknownst to them, they used to be a prince but was cursed by the king to become a bear. They broke into the house of some humans but was quickly shooed out after trying their food, chairs, and beds. They found a small cottage shortly after with a nice lady inside

Easton- jack and the beanstalk. Following the death of their parents, Easton had to sell their favorite cow (rip Martin) at market. They were offered three magic beans in return and…for some reason…agreed. Easton planted them but for a while nothing happened. A week past and suddenly- big beanstalk sprouted. Easton found a city in the clouds and attempted some theft, much to the dismay of the giants. Along with numerous other injuries, they lost their sight escaping but was taken in by a kind woman who brought them to her home.

Ven- Kai (The snow queen) Broken shards of the kings shattered magic mirror embedded into Vens heart and eyes. He now serves the king faithfully. The shards have turned him cruel and he can no longer see the beauty in anything besides the kings magic. Only those who have been at the castle for a while know about the kind natured person he used to be. Icarus was able to slightly melt the shards in his heart but was unable to completely do so before their father found out.

Caspian- Prince Charming 1. The brother in a set of two siblings sent by Queen Soraza as a peace envoy. He is adopted by the queen though still has rightful claim to the throne. While at the castle he has been seeing some odd things…perhaps more will be uncovered at the solstice ball that he’s attending. He is here for diplomatic reasons and to keep the allusion of peace. He’d much rather be doing anything else as this trip has already been taxing on him. He also was thrown from the ship while coming into port and considers it nothing less of a miracle that he didn’t drown…now if only he knew how.

Arisanna- Prince Charming 2. The only biological child of queen Soraza, nonetheless she does not wish for the throne. Ari does not trust anything here and the tree in the courtyard has particularly caught her eye… the flowers are gorgeous and it’s so vibrant. It’s almost…magical. She is here to investigate the claims that the king is putting curses on people.

Aax- the little mermaid. Interested by the humans, aax has been sneaking up to talk to a boy named Rae who’s he’s pretty interested in. However things take a turn when he watches a man get thrown overboard off a large ship during a storm. The man he saved was dressed very fancy and Aax left him on the beach despite wanting to stay and talk. Aax was told later by rae that this was actually the visiting prince! He wants desperately to follow Rae, to actually meet the man he saved, to not be stuck in the sea. When going to meet Rae on the beach later he finds a different man who offers him a deal in return for legs.

Ulysses- Triton/ the sisters(the little mermaid). Aax’s adopted parent, Ulysses is not very fond of Aaxs decision yet he is still trying to look out for them. After finding out about the deal, Ulysses looks more into it and finds a way for Aax to get out of it in time without losing his life. He’s not super ethical about it but he’ll be damned if he loses another family member to these humans.

Addie- Miss muffet. She owns a spider themed cafe! It’s called “the web” as she’ll always have information for you…just bring something to share as well! Addie lives on the outskirts of the kingdom as she does not wish to be anywhere near the king.

Haley- the mad hatter. A frequent customer at The Web, nobodies actually seen her out of it… most of her rambling means nothing you’re sure…hopefully. The king cursed her with madness long ago but that curse seems to actually have given her a large amount of knowledge of things she shouldn’t know.

Isla- fairy god mother. Nobody knows how she achieved this power nor how she escaped the king. The common people believe her to be dead. She has created a flaw in the kings otherwise unbreakable curses, causing true loves kiss to be the remedy to all of them. Perhaps she has experience of her own to speak from?

I didn’t wanna add too many gods cause honestly that would just make this so much harder but I did try to include all the players! This is already a very long post. Go ahead and try to add the existing gods in if you’d like! I just ask if you’re adding onto my stuff not to move anyone out of a slot

[eternal-moss]

Good Lord I cannot stop Simonposting

Anyway. The Golbetty shrine. Is incredibly messed up and delightfully feels like the sort of thing someone would construct after comprehending the god of chaos.

It’s clearly not Simon’s first time doing the ritual in vain (we’ve already seen him try many times in the montage at the end of the show to get her back, including consulting the Cosmic Owl and Prismo), so there’s holes in the wall that correspond to Golb’s symbols. The Enchiridion is also there, which was the main source of power for summoning elder gods like the Litch (used to resurrect himself) Golb (used by Magic Man and Betty) and (attempt to) time travel (by Betty). But before the apocalypse, the Enchiridion was owned by Simon himself, and both him and Betty studied it. So it has the twofold power of being a very strong magic battery and has the emotional link to Petrigrof.

The empty bottles and whatever those terrifying lamprey looking things are in a makeshift statue, harbouring a cleaner looking idol (which he probably created himself) out of clay. Making a statue of a god at least twice? Does that mean that even if one gets broken or damaged he has the other one? Or does it make the rituals stronger?

We know that Simon knew a bit about Golb before the apocalypse- in the final episode of the main series we have a flashback of him and Betty, where he says “I keep seeing reference to this mysterious entity that embodies chaos” and “his presence is felt in every crevice where chaos lurks”. To which Betty replies “well it’s a good thing he isn’t here then.”

She sacrificed herself to keep him safe and away from the god of chaos and madness, by fusing her soul with his. Golb being this sort of god means that he’s probably the originator of MMS (Magic, Madness and Sadness) which is a canonical condition where insane/depressed characters will have a higher propensity to magic, and magic users are more prone to bouts of mania, amnesia and depression.

The crown was basically a catalyst of MMS, which caused Simon to have unnatural elemental powers (unlike the elementals which don’t experience default MMS) as well as effecting his body and mind.

Betty is pretty much the only character to have ‘diagnosed’ MMS, recognising it in most magic users, and in Simon, hoping to undo its effects on him. Her theory is proven correct in the episode ‘Betty’ by Bella Noche undoing all the magic in Wizard City and the effects of the crown are nullified, and retracts its influence from Simon, causing him to become ‘normal again’ and regain his clarity and memories.

Grief is shown to be a strong natural catalyst to MMS, which also happened to Magic Man (after his wife Margles was ‘taken by Golb’ which still has an unclear meaning, she definitely didn’t fuse like Betty, although wishing her back at Prismo’s did the exact same thing as Simon wishing Betty back which is really unusual), and Betty herself after the ‘You Forgot Your Floaties’ episode (which by the way is like one of the best episodes in the show).

Betty’s whole motive was to save Simon and free him from madness, which she did at the cost of her soul. But now, ironically, Simon’s grief is causing him to develop it again, which is how he channels the Golb rituals (like how Betty and magic man did) and also probably how the Fionnaverse portal even opened up in the first place.

Something about about Simon having panic attacks in his house and just generally getting triggered by a lot of stuff (Ice, the books he wrote as Ice King, etc) but then gently stroking the clay idol he made of the god of madness because that’s his wife is just heart breaking

Look at that expression :( it’s longing followed by guilt because he knows this is exactly what she would never want him to do.

[taffycandyqt]

Please No

You can't sleep and seek company in your misery through your best friend. However he's not at home.

Masterlist

Request Rules

OH MY GOSH IM NOT DEAD! In all honesty I haven't been super motivated lately but I started this personal project a LOOOOOOONG time ago and felt I couldn't move on to other requests before I finished it. When I started this I felt really inspired to make it solely because I feel there is simply not enough Donatello fluff in this world, especially in 03' and 12' s case. So I hope you like it!

2012 Donnie x reader

Aged up, all characters are college/older adult age, depends on how you want to read it.

Fluff, slightly angst if you really want it to be there

Fem reader

Sleeping was always a struggle for you. Logically you knew you needed sleep, physically you felt tired, but mentally you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Your body hated the idea and actually laying down and sleeping, so you went to the only person you KNEW would be up right now.

Casey Jones.

He was annoying when you first met him be he was chill enough that he grew on you pretty quickly. Not to mention that if it weren't for him you wouldn't have met your now boyfriend. You always enjoyed spending time with Donnie but trying to pin him down was hard especially since you didn't know where he lived. He didn't want you to meet his brothers just yet, says he wants time to adjust to your guys relationship before being teased. Which, fair. SO! To Casey's you went. You two usually met up at grueling times of the night so it was customary to clime up each other's fire escapes and practically break into the other person's house. You'd either scare each other awake or find the other sitting in their kitchen shoveling cereal into their mouth watching conspiracies on YouTube.

Tonight though, nothing. Like the dude up and vanished. You checked the kitchen and his room. You even went as far as to check the bathroom. THAT WAS HIS WHOLE APARTMENT! Did he have just as an abhorrent sleep schedule as you? Yes, but he never left the house to make it a strangers problem. So to ease your nerves you decided to call him, if that doesn't work, your gonna pray Donnie is awake enough to answer the phone.

One ring. Two ring. Third ring...

"This is THE Casey Jones." You breathed out a sigh of relief. He isn't kidnapped, dead, or lying in a ditch high of weed somewhere.

"Hey man, just dropped by your place, where you at?"

"Oooooh, one of those nights huh?"

"Isn't it always?"

"heh, I feel ya. Here I'll text you my location so we can chill." after that you heard talking from the other side of the phone. Someone that wasn't Casey. But before you could ask any questions Casey quickly responded to whatever it was that they said.

"SHUT UP! ILL KICK YOUR BUTT INTO NEXT WEEK, BUD!" ending with extra sass on the 'bud'.

That's when you got his text. Perfect!

---

Orrrr not. You swear you followed the directions exactly, so why are you standing in the middle of an alleyway being told to go forward when THERE IS NO FORWARD! Being the reasonable person you are you blamed it all on Casey and let him know of your little predicament.

And, 'wait there, just a sec was his reply.' You didn't think Casey would be the kind of person to plot someone else's demise. Not that he he hasn't caused someone else's demise, he just doesn't have the forethought to think ahead about it. However this whole, standing in an alley in New York at 2 am alone, is really starting to feel like a plot.

Once again, your nerves started rising. You looked around the old bricks, worn with water damage and scraping and covered in graffiti. The dark distorted your surroundings making it unclear if you were really alone in that alley or not. The stench of the trash bags shoved as close to the corners and walls as possible started to get to you. Your breathing got a little heavier. The ominous lighting from the street lamp didn't help either. Then a sound rose above the scampering feet of rats. You turn to see the man hole cover slowly scrap along the concrete as a large gloved hand shoved it away. The darkness of the alley clouded the figure and with the covering gone the hole left seemed like a endless pool of inky nothingness. You were stiff as a board and you could hear your heart thrashing in your ears. This is it. This is where you die and it's all Casey Jones's fault.

"Hey you did make it! Nice!"

Your threw a scrapped can square at his face.

"Ow!"

"CASEY! YOU SCARED ME!"

"Yo chill! I told you I was coming to get you!"

"YOU TOLD ME TO WAIT, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THE FRICK YOU WERE DOING! GOSH CASEY! WHAT WERE YOU EVEN DOING DOWN THERE!?"

"Hehe, come on. I'll show you," he winked at you before gesturing you to enter into the manhole first.

"No."

"Oh come on! Don't you trust me?"

"NO! Also gross. I'm not going down there just for the heck of it Casey. I have never been curious what New Yorks sewer system looks like."

"It's not about the sewers! We just have to walk through the system to get to the place," he told you mildly annoyed.

"And your purposely being suspicious about 'the place', because?"

"Because that's a surprise,"

"Oh joy. I just love surprises at 2 in the freaking morning, in the sewers, wearing my pajamas," you snarked as you lowered yourself down the manhole scowling slightly.

Casey led you through the sewers keeping a brisk pace. You asked him about the voice you hear over the phone earlier and all he told you was that it was part of the surprise. To which you rolled your eyes.

"You seem pretty confident on where your walking," you remarked.

"Well I sure hope so!" he laughed to himself, "I've only been coming here since highschool."

Him saying that struck a possible idea of what his "surprise" could be. But you couldn't be sure.

You initially met Casey in college. Not that he went to collage, he just crashed a class that you shared with his friend. He called her red, talked about her a lot too. You didn't really know her outside of that one class. It felt strange to know so many details about someone you've never talked to. He did mention that she was Donnies first crush but Donnie never talked about her though so you didn't really care much for that detail.

You knew that Casey had known Donnie, his brothers, and "red" since high school. He told you about their adventures all the time. Sometimes it made you feel a little disconnected, especially since the only people you ever knew from the group were Donnie and Casey. But you tried not to let that feeling get to you. It would simply take time. Besides, even if you're newer and don't know the whole group, neither Donnie or Casey ever made you feel like you weren't a part.

The thing is though, is that Casey only mentioned highschool when talking about the turtles. So while it is a loose assumption, you had an idea of what he might be planning. Part of you really hoped it wasn't what you were thinking. The other part really REALLY wanted it to be what you thought. But the majority part was to tired to care and just wanted something to do.

After a short walk you noticed the sewer transition into an abandoned subway station. That's when you heard the sounds of videogames and people. The smell of pizza lingered in the air the closer you walked to the sound. Eventually you got to the part of the station where lights lit up the dark space.

When you got to the entrance, you saw two turtles playing videogames. Pizza boxes littered the floor, some of them containing pizza, some completely empty. You were a little stunned honestly. Donnie had a genuine reason for not introducing you to his family, you didn't want to cross that line. But at the same time, you really needed a brain rotting distraction. You hesitated. But when Casey gestured you to go first through the turnstile first, that hesitation crumbled. You just wanted some pizza, was that so wrong? I mean you were already here, might as well just commit. You and Casey passed through and neither of the brothers tired to look at you. The one in red acknowledge the sound by saying,

"Welcome back Case."

"What didja need to do that you left so fast brah?" Asked the orange one.

"My best bud needed A.M. pizza, so I figured here would be the best place for her to get some," Casey told them patting your back before taking his seat next to the orange brother and picking up an abandoned controller. You followed, feeling out of place, you sat beside him.

This got reds attention.

"I'm sorry, she?" He paused the game to look over at you.

"WHAT?! CASEY WHO THE HECK IS SHE?? YOU CAN'T JUST BRING RANDOM PEOPLE DOWN HERE!"

"Dude chill out! First of all, shes not random, she's y/n," reds eye twitched, "Secondly, it's no biggie, she already knows Donnie, she's no snitch."

You smacked Casey's arm and shook your head.

"Hey! your already here aren't you?" he whined at you.

"Wait, how do you already know Donnie?" orange finally spoke up.

"Yeah, who are you anyways?" red questioned you.

"I-um. Hi, I'm y/n" you stiffly introduced.

You felt very awkward about this whole situation.

"And you know Don, how?" red reiterated impatiently.

You decided to play dumb.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know Donnie?! Oh my gosh are you dumb?!"

"No, I get what you asked, but in what way?"

"THE FRICK DO YOU MEAN 'IN WHAT WAY?' HOW DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER?!"

You both went back and forth like that for a while. Little did you know that this was Casey's plan all along. He had talked to Donnie about introducing you the family but he always said it "wasn't the right time". You and Donnie had been dating for almost a year now and had known each other even longer. Yet his brothers had yet to know you even existed! Knowing you, you wouldn't push the issue because you didn't want to pressure your poor boyfriend. You were under the false pretence that he would come around eventually. The truth is, he wouldn't. And it wasn't because of his brothers teasing.

They would still tease him yes, but they've grown, they know the line. The real reason Donnie hadn't introduced you was because one; he wanted you to himself. And two, the biggest reason; he was embarrassed of where he lived. Yes his home was cleanly and all but it was still a sewer. It had taken a long time for him to begin to believe that you actually thought he was attractive and not some kind of monster. Living in the sewer though? What if that breaks your entire image of him? What if you think he really is some slimy gross sewer monster after? He couldn't bear the thought. After being with you for so long, he doesn't think he could live without you.

It took a lot of nagging but when Casey finally broke him and that was the explanation he gave? Casey was so done. So he took matters into his own hands. He waited for the opportunity to present itself and tonight was the night.

"Dudes!" orange interjected, "Chillll. Ever consider that maybe she won't say cuz we haven't introduced ourselves yet?? Hmmmmmmmmm?"

He chewed red out. Red just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Hi, I'm Mikey, and that grump is Raph," he told you, "He's been awake too long, he gets fussy without his nap."

You giggled at this, but before you could say anything back Raph had tackled Mikey to the floor. As they rustled you made a small laugh.

"What is going on in here so late?" you heard someone say from behind you. You turned to where it was coming from and saw the third brother you had yet to meet. Blue.

Before he could say anything to Raph or Mikey though, he made eye contact with you.

"Who are you?"

"This is my best bud y/n. Y/n, the fearless leader Leo," Casey introduced.

"Don't call me that Casey," he told him sternly. He walked over to you guys and took a seat in the other side of you.

"You know Case, if I wasn't half asleep I'd be way more upset about you bringing a stranger to the lair."

"She's not a stranger though, she's known Donnie for a while now. Besides we already got yelled at enough by Raph," Casey told him.

He humm and nodded in a 'that makes sense type' of way.

"So you've know Donnie for a while?" he asked.

You felt like could tell Leo just as much as you could tell Raph. Which was nothing. But you felt like Leo would be more receptive to a reasonable answer then Raph was.

"I'd tell you, but I'm not at liberty to say right now," you said.

"That's not suspicious at all," he teased.

"Hey!" you laughed at him and he laughed back.

Casey elbowed you and smiled proudly. He acted like he deserved a thank you for introducing you to your boyfriends family behind his back. All you did was elbow him in the ribs. That was he really deserved. You would be lying though if you said it wasn't an oddly fun situation.

That's when Raph had pinned Mikey and he started screaming.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY? I COULDN'T HEAR YOUR BEFORE?!" Raph yelled at him with this hands pushing Mikey's head to the floor.

"AAAAAAAAA!!" was all Mikey said him response.

Leo sighed next to you, "I guess I'll be taking care of that."

Before he could make a move though, you heard a familiar voice.

"What is going on out here?! I can't work with all this RACKET!" Donnie grumply shouted.

He stopped right in his tracks when he saw you though.

The only time you had seen Donnie that worked up was when an experiment failed or his brothers got on his nerves. Even then though, it was just venting after the fact, so you never witnessed the brunt of his frustrations. Safe to say you were a little startled, not put off or anything, just surprised mostly.

"Y- y- y- y Y/N?! What in Earth are you doing here?? At this hour? Here? I- ??" he was completely flabbergasted and udderly mortified.

He looked a mess, bags under his eyes, mask lazily pushed above his eyes, and not to mention yelling like an angry old man! Oh nononono. It was bad enough you were in his sewer home, there's no way you don't think his a monster now!

"Would you look at that, guess you did know Don after all," Raph said, head in hand while an elbow laid on Mikey's head.

You turned back to Raph, "Why would I lie about that?!"

This boy was unbelievable.

"Raph get off Mikey," Leo told him.

"Not until he says it!"

"Really Raph? I though you stopped doing that when we were teens."

Deciding that you needn't be involved in that conversation, you turned back to Donnie who had a horrified expression on his face.

"H- how long have you been down here?" he asked quietly.

"Not super long, Casey and I only got here like, a few minutes ago," you answered him.

Donnie took a deep breath, he looked like he was about to loose it. You didn't blame him honestly.

"You. Brought. Her. Here?!" he asked Casey. Clearly hanging by the thread of his last nerve.

"Yeah, s'not like you ever would have, so I took matters into my own hands. Besides she's my friend just as much as she's your girlfriend, I have a right to introduce her to my closest buds."

"Wait. Did you just say, girlfriend?" Mikey asked. Leo was helping him off the floor with a displeased Raph standing to the side. They all froze after Casey's statement and started at you and Donnie with wide eyes.

"JONES!" you both yelled at him in unison.

"What? They were gonna haft'a know eventually, I just got the awkward part out of the way for you," he shrugged and winked at you both.

You were gonna kill him. And by the looks of it Donnie and you were on the same page.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a sigh.

"Okay, I think Donnie and I need to have a private conversation. When we're done we'll clear everything up with you all. Okay?"

"That sounds good," Leo nodded while everyone else complained.

You turned to Donnie signaling to lead the way to wherever you two could have some alone time. He seemed nervous and jittery, but led you none the less. He let you in first through a big sliding door that opened up into what seemed to be a garage. It had tables with tools and other electronic equipment strewn around. There were chemistry supplies as well along with some posters in the walls.

"So," Donnie started, fixing his gaze on the floor, "you wanted to talk?" He adjusted his mask to fit back over his eyes.

"Uh, yeah," you answered. Why was the air so thick all of a sudden? Donnie was so closed in on himself it was almost like he was afraid of you. Honestly, you wanted to ask him why Casey said he would never take you down here. But now wasn't the time for that.

"What do you want to do now? I know you wanted to introduce me on your own terms but now that that's not really a possibility. So where do you wanna go from here?" You asked.

You figured it would best to have a game plan before explaining everything to his brothers.

"I understan- Wait what?" He looked at you confused.

"Uuhhh, where do you want to go from here? Ya know, now that your brothers know?" You repeated yourself. Now you were confused.

"I. Wha. That's all you have to say?" Donnie said mouth agape, shocked.

"What? I mean, about this situation yeah? I mean, I am curious why Casey felt the need to do this but that's not really my first priority right now. Am- am I missing something here?" You asked him.

"I- I thought... I live in a sewer," he told you.

"You thought you lived in a sewer?" Your confusion increasing, "Like. You didn't know?"

"No! I know that! I just... you don't care?"

"Why would I care? I'm sorry," you put a hand to your forehead, "did you think I would judge you for your living conditions? Which are honestly pretty cush. Who do you take me fore Don?!"

"I! Well it's not that I thought you would judge me, it's just... I'm a mutant. Living in the sewers just- I don't know. The only things you think of living in the sewers are creepy gross monsters or rodents. On top of that it's the sewers! Most people find that pretty gross."

"Donnie. We've known each other for longer then a year. If I was disgusted by you, you would know by now," you spoke dryly.

"All this time I thought you just needed to get used to things. But you were just assuming the worst about me? What the heck Donnie?" You were hurt. You loved him so much, and he thought you would leave him because of where he lives? He really thought you were that judgemental?

"What?! No! I wasn't assuming the worst about you! I was just afraid you'd realize you deserve better than me!"

"BUT YOU'RE ALL I WANT!"

He stopped and looked at you, eyes wide.

"Really?"

"Yes! And I hate it when you talk like you're not deserving of love just because you're mutant."

"I just... I just don't see what you see in me," he admitted.

"Then stop assuming things and closing yourself off. Talk to your family, talk to your friends, talk to me. I never worry about whether or not you love me, you've seen me at my worst and never left my side. You're so scared of how I'll react to your worst you never even give me a chance to show you," you grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye.

"You don't get to decide how I feel or what I think, only I do."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Sorry for assuming things, things about you, and for taking so long to introduce you."

You kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," you smiled at him. Then pinched his neck and pulled him to you.

"Ow ow ow ow!"

"And never do that again," you let him go.

"Yes of course absolutely never again," he nodded and smiled at you. You smiled back and patted his chest.

"Now before we continue the conversation of how to approach your family, I feel like we should address the eavesdroppers in the room," you said pulling back the door all the way. It was already cracked open to allow the peepers better visuals for your conversation.

As it slid open you noticed Casey and the three brothers trying to run away from the door.

"What! Guys! What part of private conversation do you not understand?!" Donnie yelled at them.

"I told you guys you shouldn't have done that," Leo scolded them.

"YOU LITERALLY JOINED RIGHT AFTER SAYING THAT!" Raph pointed an accusatory finger at him, "AND FOR THE RECORD IT WAS MIKEY'S IDEA!" He yelled moving his pointing to the youngest.

"Wow dude, I thought we were in this together," Mikey put a hand on his chest hurt.

"Well in the end it doesn't matter cuz it already happened right?" Casey shrugged and took a seat on the couch again.

Out of everyone here you and Donnie were most ticked at Casey.

Both you and Donnie approached him from behind and grabbed one of his shoulders.

"W-what? Uhhh. You dudes need something? Eh heh..." he stuttered nervous. Only just now did he realize the hole he had dug for himself.

"Why don't we have a chat Casey," you smiled but it was less of a question and more of a statement.

"Privately," Donnie finished, no smile to be found.

You both were gonna have fun with this. Then Donnie could take you home and tuck you in. What a great boyfriend girlfriend bonding activity!

------------------------------------------------------------Listen y'all, I know Google maps don't work like this, but just for the sake of plot pretend like it does.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical cursing, pretend oral, protective Price, vaginal fingering, sex with a condom, asking permission, hand necklace, doggy style, slightly possessive Price

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Part Five of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Made an offering, Price does his best to protect you. Alone together, the two of you finally give in.

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

You’re trapped. Caged. Like swine in a muddy, cramped pen.

You have no power here. No control. The only other person in this situation who might be able to protect you is Price, but his reasons for being in this room with Dimitri are elusive. While you are aware that Price is after Dimitri in pursuit of a larger target, his reasons are a blank space. Empty paper.

In that safehouse, Price never revealed anything specific. You aren’t even knowledgeable about what happened to Nikola. Not that you particularly care about Nikola, but you’re more concerned with what Price and his team did with the man once they got what they needed. Just because Price saved you, just because he touched you and said things that turned your resolve to goo, doesn’t mean all of Price’s intentions are sincere.

You are in the dark on his motivations. What is clear is that Price is trying his best to divert Dimitri away from this idea, that he isn’t interested in you sinking between his legs to fall to your knees.

But Dimitri is adamant, and the gun on the table is a silent threat.

Why does Dimitri care? Aren’t you supposed to be his favorite? That’s what Nikola said. That’s why Nikola stole you away, because—in his fucked-up brain—he wanted to get back at the man for letting him down.

Yet, how is Dimitri letting Nikola down. Dimitri is a dangerous man. You know this, and you’ve always done your best to stay out of his business, to keep yourself detached and indifferent. But you can’t turn away. Not when Nikola dragged you into this.

Survival. This is all about survival. You need to remember that. This will pass once Price secures what he needs.

Slowly, you step forward, and Price flexes his hips, lifting off the couch slightly as he spreads his legs wider. The movement is downright sexy. Teeth-rotting. Heat flares in your stomach and bursts outward, moving to your core and your chest, your body remembering his mouth between your thighs.

You’re not even upset that it’s calling out to him. You’re not even frustrated. What sits in the back of your throat is a calm acceptance, that Dimitri must be obeyed if you want to make it out of here with your life intact. Being on the receiving end of Dimitri’s displeasure is a blood-beast. An ill omen of certain destruction.

As you start to sink between Price’s spread legs, your hands go out to steady yourself. They land against the tops of Price’s knees, a slight tremor shivers through your fingers as they make contact. It isn’t because you’re itching to touch him but because you’re afraid of Dimitri, and what he might do if you don’t do this.

Under your palms, Price is warm and strong. An anchor. You try not to look at his face, deciding it might be best to focus on a different part of him like his chin or neck. But you utterly fail, only needing to know that you’re not alone in this, that Price understands. That he will be gentle with you.

Price stares at you intently. On the surface, he appears impassive, but you notice subtle signs that tell you otherwise like the twitching muscle at the back of his jaw, and the tension in his thigh muscles beneath your hands.

What is he thinking? What is he planning?

Your knees do not hit the floor.

With a movement that startles you, Price’s arm shoots forward, his hand grasping the back of your neck. His fingers lightly dig into your skin. Inhaling, you immediately tense in his grip. Whether Price notices is unclear. He draws you up his body and buries his face against the side of your head. In this position, it might look like he’s inhaling your scent or perhaps kissing your cheek.

Price is not doing either of those things.

“Follow my lead,” he murmurs in your ear. He’s nearly inaudible, and it’s a wonder that you hear him at all.

Lead? What lead?

There is only a moment to guess. Only a moment to consider the options in front of you. The tips of your fingers press into the fabric of his pants as Price lightly squeezes the back of your neck. It’s not a possessive or even pushy movement. It is a reassurance, a silent momentum that is urging you to trust him.

And you don’t want to trust him. Yet, at the same time, you know that you should.

It’s a goddamn annoyance.

While keeping his grip on the back of your neck, Price adjusts his hips again, reaching between your bodies to undo the front of his belt. Shifting his hold slightly on your neck, Price pulls back enough so that your faces are close and your gazes are locked.

Price says nothing. He doesn’t need to. Everything that needs to be communicated is relayed through his gaze alone. It tells you to trust him, to dive in and follow his lead just like he said to do. There is a soft pleading lurking within that makes itself known. Dimitri is a dangerous man, and Price knows, which is why he is asking you to allow him this.

When the belt is undone, and the front of Price’s pants sit open, he shoves your head down. Price is forceful, and the sudden push startles you, causing you to stifle a squeak. The sudden, surging urge to resist and bite back is immediate. It flares, bright and hot and angry before extinguishing when you realize that Price does nothing else.

He may have shoved your face against his groin, but that’s as far as it goes. Instead, Price’s arms adjust, the hand on the back of your neck shifting upward to gather and guide your hair over to once side.

It’s…a cocoon. Price is shielding you from their gaze.

Understanding seeps in, and you slide your hands up his thighs, adding another layer to the barrier. The situation is precarious. Delicate. One slip up, and Dimitri and friends will know the two of you are completely faking this.

Price’s hold on your hair stiffens, and then lightly presses before backing off.

Right. You’re pretending, which means you can’t stay in place.

It’s an awkward angle, but you manage a slight bob of your head. The moment you do, Dimitri’s wicked laugh drifts into your ears to settle like dust. Your cheeks heat and it’s not because your lips are dangerously close to the outline of Price’s dick.

You’re fucking fuming. You’d love to take that gun and shoot Dimitri where it matters.

“Now that you have what you want, let’s talk business.” Dimitri’s voice is smooth and venomous.

Price’s answer is a muted grunt.

You stay course, not daring to move more than necessary, not daring to try to change direction or speed or anything. Eventually you’ll have to do something. How long can you do this before Dimitri suspects that nothing is happening beneath Price’s makeshift protective barrier?

“The buyer is on a tight schedule. I need a guarantee that the exchange will happen at the scheduled time.” Dimitri’s tone is neutral. Distant.

Price’s fingers that brush against the side of your throat tense. “You’ve received a small advance. Was that not satisfactory?”

“It was.”

“And yet you take issue with guaranteed delivery?”

Hearing the slight tremor of annoyance in Price’s voice, you freeze. After a few seconds, Price is lightly pressing on your head again, and you resume, realizing your mistake.

Not knowing what Dimitri is doing is agonizing. Having your back to him twists your stomach and makes you question if you’re actually safe with Price. This could just be an illusion of safety. A way to make yourself feel better when the situation is anything but.

“No issue,” answers Dimitri in a slow drawl. “The buyer is particular and doesn’t take it well when something doesn’t go his way. I’m sure you understand.”

Price’s hips shift beneath you, and a low rumble vibrates in his chest.

Dimitri’s smug laugh sends your blood boiling. “We should wrap this up before things get…messy.”

Price doesn’t acknowledge Dimitri’s comment. “The location and time remain the same. The inventory will be loaded onto the ship once the wire clears. That is the arrangement.” Price is speaking through clenched teeth as if you’re truly making him come undone.

The acting is impressive. You have to give him that.

There is a delayed pause before Dimitri speaks again. “I’ve sent a partial payment to the account. As a thank you for the small advance.”

Price’s hold on you tightens, pressing you a bit closer to his groin. It’s an awkward angle and your neck is starting to cramp. You won’t be able to keep this up if it worsens.

There is the distinct clinking of bottle against glass. “As a thank you for making this process so…smooth, feel free to take her to the private room.”

Price’s hand immediately slides between your face and his groin, covering up the front of his pants. In the next second, Price is guiding you away from him. His gaze lingers on Dimitri before slowly sliding to you.

“You heard what he said,” says Price with a slight growl, his head tilting almost imperceptibly toward the room in question.

You know Price is acting, yet you don’t appreciate his domineering tone.

Using Price’s spread thighs for support, you push yourself to standing. You ball your hands into fists, attempting to stifle the gentle shaking taking shape in your fingers. Price must realize this because he stands abruptly, grabbing your arm and promptly forcing you to follow him.

“Make him happy, Sparrow,” singsongs Dimitri over his shoulder, bringing his vodka glass to his lips.

At the back of the large VIP room, next to the raised stage, is a plain black door. Olivia steps away from the pole like she’s going to cut Price off. There is genuine concern and fury in her eyes. Of everyone here, Olivia is the boldest, but this is not her fight.

When the two of you lock gazes, you shake your head and Olivia stops, silently asking if you’re sure. Price isn’t going to force himself on you. This you know.

“I’m fine,” you silently speak to her, overenunciating a bit so that Olivia can pick up on your meaning.

Olivia frowns but she returns to the pole, glancing back over her shoulder one more time as Price yanks open the door and shoves you inside. He slams it shut, and remains there, head turned in the direction of the door. His chest moves rapidly, up and down until, finally, he engages the lock and drops his hand.

Price doesn’t look at you. His face is turned to the side, his eyes focused elsewhere. Bringing his left hand up to the side of his face, he presses two fingers to the inside of his ear, the middle of his brow pinched.

“You hear all that, Simon?” Price pauses. Listens. “Send a drone for recon. Find snipe points and pinpoint potential exits. I want both teams prepped, ready, and in position before Dimitri arrives.” He pauses again. Nods. “Very good. Zero-six going dark.”

With that, Price removes a small earbud no larger than a pea from out of his ear. He drops it to the floor and then crushes it under his shoe. Bending at the knees, Price picks up the broken tech and deposits it in the small, hidden trash receptacle in the wall.

Then, he’s turning toward you, looming large as he invades your space. Price’s hands hover just shy of your upper arms like he wants to touch you but isn’t sure if he should.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, the middle of his brow softening. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m not hurt.” You shrug. “Well—my pride, maybe.” An awkward laugh escapes from your throat and you immediately cringe.

Price closes the distance, his hands coming to rest on your arms. His gaze roams over your face with concern, then drop to other parts of you. It’s not a heated look, but one of deep worry, as if your words are not enough to calm him. He looks you over once, then twice, and only then does his hands drop. Finally, he glances away from you, taking in the small room.

Price frowns. “What is this?”

You shrug. “All the VIP rooms have them. They’re for more private interactions.”

Price glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the small room. The space is cramped. There is a neatly made queen-sized bed with black sheets penned in by three walls. Above the bed, both on the walls and on the ceiling, are mirrors. The lighting is dim. Moody. You and Price stand in the only open space and that isn’t even very large. There’s roughly four feet between the end of the bed and the door.

To you and Price’s left and right are shelving built into the walls. One side is a fully stocked mini bar. The shelves on the other side are full of different sized condoms, various bottles of lube, toys, wet wipes, and even cleaning supplies.

Price’s frown turns upward. He steps toward the shelving full of supplies and laughs softly. “This place has everything.”

“That’s the experience Thirst likes to offer,” you say, almost mockingly.

Price’s gaze returns to you. The relaxed state of his shoulders shifts suddenly, stiffening. “Are there cameras in here? Microphones?”

“Absolutely not,” you say vehemently. “The VIP rooms are incredibly private for a reason. There are a couple panic buttons hidden in the room but that’s for guests who don’t respect boundaries.”

Price seems to calm then, his shoulders relaxing. He’s quiet a moment and you’re not sure if you should fill the silence. How long do the two of you need to be in here before you can emerge?

“I don’t think we can leave here any time soon,” smirks Price.

“I had the same thought. It would look bad on me.”

Price’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Bad on you? No.” A protest begins to form on your lips but Price keeps talking. “Two minutes and done?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Shame on me.”

The back of your neck flames. The memory of him and his mouth on you is too fresh and new and Price is too goddamn close. And there is nowhere for you to hide.

You swallow and nearly choke. Glancing at a point behind Price, you answer him. “I suppose we’re stuck here for a bit.”

Price only nods, his amused smile faltering slightly. The two of you stand in silence. Not moving. Not speaking. The stagnant quiet is stifling. Suffocating. In this tight space, the musky scent of Price’s cologne makes its way into your nostrils, filling your lungs with him.

Seeing him out of tactical gear is its own type of asphyxiation. No cargo pants or boots. No beanie or oddly endearing floppy hat.

The all-black attire speaks to subtle danger, and whatever game he’s playing with Dimitri. His shoes are neatly laced and polished. His slacks are perfectly pressed and free of wrinkles. That doesn’t include his button up shirt. With the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show off his massive forearms, Price looks very much the part. He oozes sexiness. Your gaze scans his entire body, entirely focused on how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a bit of dark chest hair.

Does it cover his chest? His stomach? Does it—

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that Price’s movement toward the bed startles you out of your lustful thinking. He sits slowly, pausing on the edge before reaching down to unlace his shoes. He kicks them off. After, Price eases himself up the bed, falling onto his back with a deep sigh.

His eyes are closed and one large hand rests on his stomach just below the open buttons.

You don’t move toward him. You don’t move at all. The heels you wear are lead, full of cement, and you are glued to the spot, staring at the man who causes your emotions to swirl inside you like a storm.

Price’s chest rises and falls steadily. The air conditioning kicks in, the small room filling with a quiet hum.

“Are you going to stand there the whole time or are you going to join me?” Price doesn’t open his eyes when he speaks, and his gruff voice is rougher, almost sleep-laced.

Your legs respond without prompting, ushering you to the edge of the bed. Sinking down, you pause right there, gaze traveling up Price’s perfect form.

“Staring is rude.” Still, Price’s eyes remain shut. How does he know you’re staring at him?

“Shut up,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, laying down next to him on the bed on your right side.

Price inhales. Exhales. Inhales. Ex—

One eyelid cracks open as he turns his head slightly in your direction. He says nothing, only watching you through that small slit.

“What?” you prompt, shoving as much annoyance into your tone as you can even though you’re warm between the thighs.

Just as the question leaves your mouth, Price grabs for you. The hand resting on his stomach ensnares your upper arm. There is no resistance. The man is strong, hauling you against him. One arm slides under and behind you to secure you against him at the waist. The other slides to the back of your thigh, lifting your leg up to drape over his. Your black cocktail dress is too short, and the fabric rolls upward revealing more and more skin.

That same hand, the one that grips your thigh, slides higher, securing itself at the very top beneath the curve of your cheek. The cheeks on your face flame, and your hands dig into his shirt.

Price’s sigh, once he settles, is one of contentment and pleasure, like you’re supposed to be here. You attempt to put some distance between your bodies but Price’s hand on your thigh only tightens, keeping you in place.

This is too close. Too affectionate. You cannot allow this to go further even if the rest of you is responding to him.

“You’re tense,” murmurs Price after a minute.

“It’s a tense situation,” you reply dryly.

You can see yourselves in the mirror, and how intimate this position is with your leg draped across his thighs. With his hand on your upper thigh, and your cocktail dress bunched at your hips, you glimpse the slightest bit of your underwear peeking out from beneath the dress. If you can see it, Price can likely see it.

Price can—oh. Oh. Oh. Shit.

Price’s eyes are open. He watches you watch the tantalizing reveal of flesh beneath the fabric of your cocktail dress. Those large fingers of his dig in. Drag downward. Back up. Higher than before and closer to the delicate fabric.

Does Price intend to touch you? Does he intent to take this further? Do you even want him to?

Slowly, Price’s head shifts toward you, his face aligning with yours. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” he murmurs.

Those eyes of his sink into your soul and rips your autonomy from out your throat. Price squeezes your thigh, prompting you for an answer, his fingers dangerously close to brushing over your pussy through the fabric.

“Tell me,” he repeats.

Your lips part but there are no words. You are fighting nothing. Resisting nothing.

Price’s fingers slide underneath the fabric, pushing it aside. In the mirror, you are bare and open. Price’s inhale is husky, almost a growl. One lone finger slides through you, and the response is a wetness you know well.

“Tell me stop,” mutters Price, his own control slipping, his eyes shifting focus from your face to the mirror.

You like Price’s attention. You like how intensely he watches you, as if he never wants to forget a single inch. Entranced, your hand upon his chest lifts away, reaching for his face. When your thumb brushes Price’s bottom lip, he opens his mouth, and the tip of his tongue swipes against your skin. The touch surprises you, and your thumb draws away just as Price’s tongue retreats into his mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats again, as if you’ll answer him this time.

You inhale sharply as his middle finger presses into your entrance, stretching you perfectly, easing you open.

“Tell me,” he whispers. “Say it.”

“Don’t—” Price freezes, ready to withdraw. “Stop.”

There is sweet victory on his face. A triumphant, pleased appearance that has you softening. All lingering anticipation is gone. Price’s other hand is on the back of your neck, bringing your mouths together at the same moment his fingers fuck your pussy.

This kiss is deep and fierce. Passionate. It is not a stranger’s kiss, but one that sends a shiver through your loins, every muscle in your body singing with need. Heating your blood, this side of Price stirs a slickness in your core.

There is whiskey on his tongue, and just the slightest hint of cigar smoke.

“Fucking hell,” he groans against your mouth as your body clenches around him, insisting that he stay there.

Price claims you for himself, over and over again, with his lips and fingers. That grip on the back of your neck is entirely possessive. Wanton. There are no others words to describe this hunger that oozes from Price.

Your hands instinctually slide around his neck, and you’re drawing yourself closer until the two of you are nothing but lips, teeth, tongue, and the steady pump of his fingers.

This attraction and desperation is unfair. You should not feel so strongly in this moment. You shouldn’t want him for any reason. Perhaps this is simply fate playing a part, bringing the two of you together because it knows that after tonight, you’re unlikely to ever see Price again.

Price’s lips fall upon your neck, sucking at your skin, just as his wrist twists enough for his thumb to play with your clit as he fucks you. You whimper, and Price sucks on your neck harder. Your fingers dig and claw into his shirt, tugging, tugging so hard the few remaining buttons might pop.

He rubs your clit, swirling repeatedly until the friction sends your pussy fluttering around him, flooding with new wetness. It’s not your small death. Not yet. That sits low in your body, waiting to be unleashed like a viper hiding in the leaves.

It’ll strike when you least expect it, robbing you of all resolve.

Your nails dig into his flesh just above his collar, leaving little half-moons behind, but you do not draw blood. The sensation of his finger sliding in and out of you is fucking perfect but it’s not enough to get you where you need to go.

“Fuck, love. Look at you,” murmurs Price against your throat. In the mirror above the bed, you can see everything. The second finger sliding in, how much of him is inside you, and the way your body releases and flexes around him.

“Dimitri can only dream of seeing you like this. Because this,” Price punctuates his words with a perfectly placed flick of your clit, “is only for me.”

The stretch that comes from a second finger pulls a gnarled, pathetic whimper from your lips. It makes you weak, turns you to ash, grinding you down until the need to beg for Price is becoming difficult to refuse.

“What do you need, love?” His lips brush against skin only to draw your face to his, pressing his lips to yours.

Your brain is a miasma of noise and sensation, and filtering through it all is too difficult.

“I—I need,” you begin, only to moan softly as his thumb teases your clit, halting all thought.

“You need…what?” he teases, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

“John,” you breathe, saying his name like liquid sin. “I—I.” Your words are missing, floating up into the air to disappear. You cannot cling to them to form the thing you need to say.

Price’s groan is low. “My name. Say it again. I liked it.”

“John,” you repeat, and he lightly presses on your clit in response, sending you tumbling into the place you’re seeking.

The whimpered cry that rolls up your throat and bursts forth from between your lips is unobstructed. Your pussy squeezes around Price’s fingers even as he continues to move them inside you. His actions only prolong it, drawing it out, seeking more as your hips writhe in time with him.

The aftershocks are the worst part, not because they’re painful, but because the muscles in your thighs won’t stop twitching. Price’s smile against your mouth tells you all you need to know. He is smug, downright satisfied with how you fell apart for him.

Your fingers that dig into his collar fade away, slipping downward to rest at the opening of his shirt. Another little aftershock hits you, and your hand slips underneath the fabric to touch Price’s chest.

He does not stop you. It is the opposite. Price leans into your touch, claiming your mouth, slipping his fingers from your pussy, rolling you completely onto your back as he traps you beneath him.

Price’s hands travel downward to your thighs, squeezing, some of the stickiness rubbing off onto your skin. Your legs are spread and Price sits comfortable between them, his pelvis pressing against yours. You feel the hard outline of him, but Price makes no move to undo the rest of his belt or take off his pants.

He stays like this, forehead resting against your own, noses brushing, lips almost meeting.

“Do you want to leave?” he asks softly.

Do you want to leave? Not, we should, or I, but you. Price is asking you.

“No,” you murmur, because it’s true.

Leaving means going back out there, to Thirst, to Dimitri, and to your life with mounting unpaid medical and utility bills. No. You’re not interested in leaving. At least, not yet.

“I like it here.” The words leave your mouth without prompting, and you want to take them back. They sound too comfortable, too sincere, and Price might shy away if you appear too eager.

But he only nods. “Good.”

Giving your thighs one last squeeze, Price pushes off the bed, sliding off to stand at his full height. Staring down at you, Price reaches up to undo one button and then another, revealing more of his chest and stomach.

Price is all thick muscle, and the soft brown hair on his chest trails down his stomach to disappear below the waistline of his pants. You sit up slightly, tugging on the hem of your dress to secure it back into place.

It’s a nervous habit, a sudden inflection of uncertainty. Why are you nervous? So what if you fuck him? You’re never going to see Price after tonight. Might as well get this out of your system and be done with him.

With one fluid movement, Price removes his belt. “Tell me again. Do you want this?”

You take a deep breath. “I want this.”

His voice drops. Becomes a husky growl. “Turn over. Hands and knees.” The command is raspy and needy. It draws you to action, causing you to comply without thought. Your autonomy is gone or, at the very least, surrendered.

There is a brief rustling sound, like that of a cellophane wrapper, then Price settles in behind you, the bed dipping where his knees rest. Between then and when he touches you is agony. But when he does, it is gentle, just fingers against the backs of your legs. In the mirror, you watch Price, his gaze focused on where his hands are.

He glances up, smirks, and then those fingers become palms that grasp at your dress, shoving it up over your hips. You’re completely bare to him other than your underwear which is shoved to the side.

Your hands fist the bedding in anticipation. Price’s hands are on your waist, and then he’s lining you up, the head of his cock beginning to sink in. He splits you open, stretching you deliciously, pulling a sharp moan from your lungs.

“You can take it. I know you can,” he rasps as more of him slides inside.

Your pussy flutters around him.

“That’s it,” he coos. “You’re doing so well, love.”

As you start to adjust to his size, Price thrusts shallowly, retreating a bit before trying again, adding more of him a little bit at a time.

“Captain,” you groan, because it’s the only thing you’re able to manage.

“Captain?” he chuckles, this time thrusting hard. “What happened to ‘John?’”

“Fuck me, John. Please.”

Saying his name, drawing it out, snaps something inside him.

Fingers slide upward, and then both of his hands are around your neck. John’s fingers intertwine, locking into place. He’s not squeezing. Not chocking. Simply holding.

“If it’s too much, you smack the top of the bed, love.” Price lightly squeezes your throat. “I won’t be gentle.”

Price’s hands around your throat tightens more, enough to make your heart race but not to obstruct your breathing. Your body begins to tingle, the animalistic urge of dangerous anticipation flowering from the recesses of your brain. You sink into the feeling, allowing it to spread until your skin is buzzing with frenzy.

Using only your throat as a support, Price starts to fuck you. He keeps you in place, leaving you unable to move much as he snaps his hips against you, his cock hitting so deep you feel him in your stomach.

The sound of your bodies coming together over and over again is loud in the room, nearly swallowing up his harsh grunts and your breathy moans of pleasure. Price takes complete control. His hands might be around your throat, but he effortlessly bounces you up and down his length in a steady, rhythmic pace.

With his hands around your throat, you are forced to keep your head up at the mirrors. From this position, you can watch as Price’s cock slides in and out of your pussy. You can see the sweat on his brow, and the gorgeous corded tension in his muscles.

Price’s hands tighten around your throat a bit more as his pace increases, quickly turning into frantic, frenzied thrusts. Your breathing isn’t restricted, but you feel lighter, your body buzzing from the sheer power in each thrust.

“Fucking hell, love. Look at you.” Then, again, but more of a growl. “Look.”

The mirror reveals all, including your perfectly dazed, blissed out smile as Price owns your pussy, claims it for himself. You’ve been fucked before, but not like this. The dominating relentlessness is sinful, and the submission to it is salvation.

“Perfect,” groans Price. “Made for me.” He’s lost in it. Drifting. His pace changing as he struggles to stay afloat. But you hardly care, because watching Price’s change in the mirror is its own kind of arousal. You’re doing this to him, and that in itself is a fucking victory.

Shifting your weight to one hand, you reach between your legs to play with yourself. With Price’s hold on your neck, it’s a bit difficult, and it stretches your back, adding a bit of tension in the way he holds onto you. It only takes a few gentle circles of your clit before you’re clenching hard around him.

He groans, then slams his hips flush against yours, keeping still as you ride out your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck.” The second is drawn out, almost caught off at the end.

The moment your pussy eases up, Price goes all in, fucking you until every thrust punches the air from your lungs and your fingers twists the bedding beneath you. Through the mirror, you observe the soft flutter of his eyelids as his own end comes crashing into him.

He grinds forward, a throaty gasp escaping him as he stills.

There is a pause, a hanging in silence before Price eases up on your throat. He slides out of you and you whimper at the loss, but it is temporary. Price eases you down on the bed, your limbs almost giving out.

“Stay here,” he says.

Like you could go anywhere.

You run a hand over your face, twisting slightly to look over your shoulder. Price tosses the condom into the trash bin and then grabs a couple items off the shelf. He deposits them on the bed.

“Open for me,” he says, and you do. He begins cleaning you between your legs with one hand while the other gently rubs the muscles in your thighs.

You lay there, starting to relax, chest no longer heaving from the exertion. He tosses what he needs to in the trash, and then he’s sliding back into the bed, drawing you close to him.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you murmur.

Price settles in, keeping you against his side. “We only have a few minutes like this.”

“I know,” you reply, suddenly feeling a slight tug of disappointment.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck did you do? Why do you keep torturing yourself like this? Why do you keep going, and sliding up to Price every chance you get? Why did you fall into his arms so easily?

You know the answer. You’re weak, and the attention is nice. That’s it. That’s all this can be. All you’re after is a bit of attention. That’s what you tell yourself, because the simmering truth is beast you don’t want to face.

Price rests his hand on your back, and you place yours on his chest, relaxing in his arms for a few minutes until he finally squeezes your hand in quiet signal.

“I’ll go first,” he murmurs, and you catch the slight tremor in the way he says it, like the words are painful for him. “Wait a couple minutes after me.” Price brushes a strand of hair out of your face, then his thumb rubs across your cheekbone. His thumb falls to your lip, and it is then that Price leans in to place a kiss there before drawing away and heading to the door.

He pauses before opening it, glancing back at you before exiting.

Not even a goodbye. Sure, Price. Whatever.

You stay on the bed, counting the seconds until you find the fortitude to sit up and stand on wobbly legs. You stare at the door, smoothing and resmoothing the front of your dress. You have to go out there. You have to.

Taking a deep breath, you somehow drag up the courage, pushing down on the handle and stepping out into the VIP room. The red lights stain everything, and Olivia still lingers at the pole. Price is back in his old spot while Dimitri and his companions laugh and pour vodka into glasses.

The best thing for you to do is to leave, and to do so quietly.

As you head for the main door that leads out into the hall, you notice Price’s gaze momentarily tracking you. Dimitri says something to, and by the look on his face, you know it’s something repulsively snarky. Yet it’s muffled, and you don’t catch anything he says, but you do hear Price.

“I’d say she’s mine now,” he snaps, breaking his connection to you to stare Dimitri down.

You nearly trip off the edge of the raised platform when you hear the unhinged growl in Price’s tone. Dimitri barks a laugh but you’re not interested in staying in the same room as the man.

Before you step through the curtain, you glance back and notice Price watching you again. You’re not sure what you see there. It’s not sadness, but something else.

A quiet contemplation.

A consideration.

But this is only tonight. It is not forever or even for another day.

You need to remember that.

Shoving it down, you swallow the bitterness until you feel nothing.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @tapioca-marzipan @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @daemondoll @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate It pt. 3 || Young! Coriolanus Snow X reader

"Took this dagger in me and removed it, gained the weight of you then lose it... If its all in my head tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow, I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it"

You don't need to read pt 1 to understand what is happening but if you want to ITS HERE

Part two is a little necessary but you'll prob catch on. Part two HERE

TLDR: Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short-term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt for him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with.

Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), alcohol, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing, unclear motives, crying, death, the reader being so delulu and manipulated omg, slight classism, self unaliving, blood

WORD COUNT: 7k

A/N: This is a dialogue-heavy one. Lots of yappin today y'all. Also a LOT and I mean a LOT darker than the others. I POSTED THIS LAST NIGHT BUT FORGOT TO PUT ANY TAGS SO I GOTTA REPOST IT

~

The morning light peered through the curtains of our bedroom ever so slightly, just enough that I could feel the warmth on my nose. I scrunched my face and squirmed under the covers. It wasn't until I felt the weight of his body move from beside me and get out of bed, that I reached my arm out for Coriolanus just to be greeted with nothing. I fluttered my eyes open and looked over. I watched intently while he threw on some clothes. God, he was gorgeous. Strikingly blond curls bouncing while he moved, his toned body with broad shoulders, a thin waist, those blue eyes and sharp jaw, he was so stunning. I love my husband so much. I whispered a quick 'good morning' to him and all he could do was hum in response. I sat up in the bed and used the sheet to cover myself up.

"Where are you going, Darling?"

"I have some business to attend to. You wouldn't understand, my beautiful empty head."

Aww. He called me beautiful. He gave me a quick glance before heading out and slamming the door behind him. I got out of bed and scoured the room for something decent to put on. Clothes from the night before had been scattered and I knew I'd have to add laundry to today's agenda. I picked up a white silk shirt from atop the dress and I threw the shirt over my head, I let out a soft sigh, looking over at myself in the tall gold mirror taking note of the smudged makeup and eyeliner that had dried in blackened streaks down my face from last night's tears. Tiny hickies decorated my neck and collarbones and I couldn't stop the smile that spread on my face from the joy I felt from Coriolanus claiming me as his. Gratitude is the best way I can describe the feeling. I am married to the most powerful man in Panem. What could I have done to deserve this?

Our relationship got rocky sometimes, yes, but he was just busy. I can't help but blame myself for how he was treating me after we got married. To be fair, he did just become president. I can't even imagine how stressful that must've been for him. It made sense why it felt like he had no time for me. Last night he admitted he never even knew I felt so neglected, it must've been my fault. Clearly, he loves me right?

Last night, I felt so loved, the way he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me, his aroma filled my senses. He loves me so much, if he didn't he wouldn't be showing me off to a whole nation of people right?

I kept asking myself for reassurance, but I had my answer, no one just marries someone they don't love.

Right?

Of course, he does. I remember when it started, it was real, so real. He's just been so tired these past few months. He has his reasons and I should understand that I can't be so selfish to be in his life taking up too much space and time. I am lucky for the sentences I will get in the story of a monumental man. Looking in the mirror of the vanity, I took a deep breath and smiled in contentment. My eyes continued to scan the display. The vanity was a white desk and drawer set with a large and extravagant mirror outlined with gold. I had hand-painted vines of ivy on the wood. The desk had makeup and my rose-scented perfume. Honestly, I always preferred fruity and sweet scents but Coryo loves it more when I smell like roses. My fingers tapped the delicate glass bottle before I placed it back down and walked to the window to look over the garden where we had the party last night.

Tables were still set up and cups littered the lawn. I giggled a little bit, remembering the fun people were having dancing around the area without a care in the world. There was always a certain type of peace that came after parties when everyone left. Similar to nostalgia where it's that strong sense of bliss but also a certain emptiness that comes from the drop from high emotions and energy to nothingness. Still, the memories of the fun of last night came back to me. A few men dressed in white peacekeeper uniforms started to file into the area and I cocked an eyebrow up in confusion. They must be coming to clean up the trash. My eyes followed them.

That's when I saw it.

The body of a tall man with ginger hair lay lifeless on his back on the stone pathway of the garden. It was the same man that I had talked with last night, Curtis. His eyes were rolled back into his head and speckles of blood could be seen on the corners of his mouth. A cup was held loosely in his hand. I gasped and my jaw hung low in shock. How could this have happened? Did he choke on something? Got into a fight? The peacekeepers started to harshly pick up his body and filed him out. Did Coryo know about this? The blood quickly left my face and I felt a sinking sense of doom in my stomach.

I had only known the man for a moment, but I felt like he was a good man. He didn't deserve whatever happened to him. The peacekeepers left the area and then moments later the maids came in to clean. Tears started to prick the corner of my eyes before I gulped heavily. Maybe he just drank too much last night. The red was just dried wine...

Yes

Yes

That made sense right...?

I had to think of something to ease my mind. Maybe I could ask Coryo about it later. More and more maids filed into the area, their black uniforms making the whole scene previously seem more grim. Red started appearing in my teary-eyed peripheral vision and I quickly shut the curtains. My chest heaved up and down as I struggled to catch my breath. I had to collect myself. I probably didn't understand the situation fully, Coriolanus knows what's going on, he always does. I won't worry about it until he comes home. I walked over the desk and wrote little notes for him on a few pieces of paper, scattering them around the bedroom. Then, I went to take a shower. I was going to have lunch with my mother today, I had to get ready.

~

The doorbell rang and I walked over to answer it. Instantly, my mother had wrapped her arms around me bringing me into a warm hug.

"Y/N! Sweetheart I missed you so much it's been so long," she spoke softly and I couldn't help the childish smile that dragged across my face.

"I haven't seen you since the wedding mom I missed you too," she loosened her grip on me and walked into the house.

"Wow... you truly are living in a life of luxury now sweetie look at this place... I see you put your little artistic flair on things haha," she joked and awed at the size of the house.

"Oh, the little paintings? I didn't think other people would notice them haha, after I dust I like to add the little things and details around. I've been hoping Coryo would notice but he's just a man, and he's so busy and tired all the time I can't blame him for not noticing. You should look at the plates when we eat today! I've been trying to add things to the table wear, which makes eating a lot more fun."

She continued to look around and I watched intently while her eyes followed the small roses, vines, clouds, and butterflies I had painted on the pillars and edges of the house. She then brought her attention back to me and pressed her lips into a thin smile, a glint of sadness was painted into her stormy eyes.

"Sweetheart, you look so thin, are you eating well? He doesn't have you on some crazy diet does he? With the amount of money you guys have I feel like you should be eating three-course meals for every meal..."

"Mom please~ I'm an adult, don't worry about me so much."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Come on let's go sit down at the table, foods' almost ready." I interlocked my arm with hers and started to guide her to the dining room. We sat facing each other. The chefs cooking could be heard faintly.

"How is the married life treating you?"

"Um... Well honestly mom, it's been rough. I felt like the original spark of our relationship had been extinguished the moment he put this ring on my finger, he had grown very cold and I swear there were days that went by where he didn't even look at me but last night we talked it out. He didn't even know I felt like that so I can't be mad at him"

"Sweetheart, I've been here for about 10 minutes and I can't help but continue to pick up these little details that are showing he isn't treating you the way you deserve. You are smarter than this Y/N I raised a strong fighting spirit, you survived a war with us and never let that darkness cloud the brightness that is your light but right now honey, you seem sad. I don't think your romantic spark is the only thing he's diminishing sweetheart, he's burning you out." Her hand reached out for mine and we interlocked fingers. She looked deeply into my eyes and I watched as the concern grew in hers.

"No mom it's not like that. He's just busy, you should know how hard he's working. I know my place is to sit and listen to him, he's so much wiser than I am. He's a great man and he loves me," I started to get a little defensive but tried to hold my temper. Her lips pursed and she gave my hand another squeeze. It was then the chefs came out and placed our plates in front of us. We sat in silence for a moment while we started to eat.

"You're stubborn I know. The more we tell you to run from him the further it pushes you away from us and closer to him. You should be celebrated, you do so much for this man and he gives you nothing. This... this just doesn't seem healthy."

"Mom. I'm fine. I'm breathing. My health is fine"

"But your soul isn't."

Her words spit venom into me and I froze in place and listened. "Truly, what kind of man doesn't let his spouse see their family more than once every few months. I had to beg him to be able to see you today. We all miss you at home. Hell, I miss you."

Shock ran through my body while I spoke. "He told me you never reached out for these past few months." A chuckle left her lips. "Does that man do anything but lie? I shouldn't be surprised... politicians will always say what you want to hear and what benefits them."

"Mom I- can we please talk about something else? I don't appreciate you disrespecting my husband. I shouldn't have ever said anything. This is why he doesn't want you around is you keep disrespecting him. I promise mom everything is okay. Just rocky sometimes and that's mostly my fault."

Her face scrunched up and she looked away to avoid eye contact. She frowned before taking another bite of the food.

"It just hurts to see you like this... I almost feel like I should've stopped it sooner-"

"Mom," I cut her off and slammed my fist on the table slightly. She quickly shut up again before her lips parted.

"How was the party last night?"

"Lovely, the capital parties are always a joy. Coryo even made a toast to me at the end of the night it was so heartwarming." I smiled, happy she changed the subject. I started to gush about how sweet Coryo was last night to try and defend himself from my mother. I don't understand why all of my loved ones just couldn't seem to like him.

"Did he talk to you?" She asked tilting her head up.

"Who?"

"Curtis."

My face went pale and my jaw dropped. Flashbacks to what I had seen that morning rushed into my mind and I sat there horrified. First was the shock then the confusion.

"He's a friend of your older brother. He's been living with us for awhile while his new house gets built. Your brother asked him personally to come to the party last night to try and talk to you. We weren't sure if we were going to be able to see you today so we were trying to find any way to talk to you and make sure you were okay."

"He um... yes I do believe I talked to him. He was very charming, sweet. He reminded me of someone I used to know but we only talked for a little last night..." I was in a daze while I spoke. I didn't want to talk about Coryo's jealous outburst or what I saw that morning.

"That's good to hear. Y/N how was he last night? He didn't come home last night though. Was he drunk when you left? We've been worried sick."

"He... no he seemed very sober though he did have the confidence of a drunk man." I tried to joke to distract from the adrenaline and fear that was pumping through my veins.

"Sweetheart I can tell when you're keeping things from me. Please, darling you can tell me anything, I'm your mother"

I avoid her eye contact like the plague and continued to eat my food, struggling to swallow.

"It's nothing really, I'm just a little tired today that's all. Mom, eat your food please, it's delicious. How's dad?"

Her suspicious mind was reflected in her suspicious eyes. She was not going to let this go so easily. I could see the same grim expression I had on my face from earlier start to spread on hers.

"The first thing I ever heard about your husband was that any person who got too close to him ended up dead, missing or disgraced. I truly hope you don't follow in those same steps."

"Mom, you guys told me that same line over and over again before we got married and it's not even true. Name one person who he's done that to"

She scoffed and spoke quietly.

"Lucy Gray."

I raised an eyebrow at her in confusion.

"Who?"

"I don't believe you watched The Hunger Games this year, you never liked the blood. There truly isn't any way to confirm this now but Coriolanus was in charge of mentoring a girl from District 12 named Lucy Gray. She was a songbird and I remember the first time I watched her sing on television, it was breathtaking. Rumors spread that your husband fell in love with her and planned to run off with her and then one day, she disappears. Not a single trace left but he returned. He returned to the capital and mysteriously got gifted a scholarship and an internship. That is a shady man."

"Respectfully mom I think you're telling folk tales right now. He told me I was his first love, the first one to make him feel so alive so that can't be true. I've never even heard of this girl. Wouldn't my classmates have said something?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't say anything to upset the man suspected of such crimes." Suddenly, a peacekeeper walked into the dining room and another followed in. Doors slammed around us and one spoke in a booming voice. "By orders of President Snow, we have been assigned to escort you out of here ma'am" They got on either side of my mom and grabbed her arms.

"There must be some sort of mistake here, it's barely 2, he said I could be here till 3! Let me down!"

I stood there frozen and helpless, I had no clue what to do. I yelled at them to wait but they pulled her out of her seat then started to head out. She started kicking and tried to fight back. "Let me say goodbye! I need a hug! I am the mother here, it's my right to see my child! He sent you guys here huh? Can't stand my kid hearing the truth? All this that's happening to me is his fault!"

"Mama! Goodbye! I love you!"

"He did it Y/N! You know he did it! Don't let it happen to you my love! Fight, there must be a way out! You're better than this. I love you!"

She shouted while they escorted her out. Her voice echoed around the room whispering the words 'He did it'. As much as I shook my head I couldn't stop thinking about it. Sickening silence bounced against the walls while my head ran back everything that had just happened. I couldn't help but let warm tears fall from my eyes while I sat back down in my chair. I'm so confused. I just needed my husband right now. A maid walked in and cleaned up the table and I sat in the chair and cried.

~

I laid down in bed, sitting up staring at the ceiling. The bed was as comfortable as sleeping on a cloud but I couldn't sleep, nothing could calm the storm in my head. The door handle turned and I saw Coryo glace into the room. His blue eyes made eye contact with mine as he stepped into the room slowly. He shut the door behind him and started to loosen his tie.

"Darling, you're still up?"

"I can't sleep..." I admitted and watched as his plump lips parted to expel a sigh. He started to change into his pajamas.

"Why dear?" He started to crawl into bed and pulled me into him with his strong arms.

"Can I ask you a question?" I felt his grip on me tighten before he nodded and hummed a soft 'yes' into the air. A sigh left my lungs and I pressed my hand against my temples. Where do I even start?

"Coryo... have you ever killed anyone before?"

"W- what?"

I tipped my head up and looked deep into his blue eyes to search for any form of sincerity. "Please be honest with me... please..."

"Darling what could have ever put these sorts of ideas in your pretty little head?"

"Coryo that's not important now please answer me. I just want your honesty here, if you're honest I will not judge you, I- I'll still love you."

The only emotion I could see on his face was panic. He removed his arm from my body and I started to panic in response. He had just started being nice to me again and I was worried I pushed him away. My big mouth just couldn't stay shut.

"Y/N, of course I haven't. Who do you perceive me as? Some kind of monster? The only person I have ever killed is my past self and he had to die so I could be the man I am today, a man ready to love you the way you deserve."

He was rambling and his lack of eye contact made me feel uneasy. I wanted to believe him, I truly did but with the way he was acting, I couldn't wholeheartedly believe him and that made me feel sick. I should not be this distrustful of my husband. I started to zone off, lost in deep thought when his hand met my jaw and he positioned my head up to look at him. "Y/N you trust me don't you? I've done everything for you, you should trust me darling." He planted a quick kiss on my forehead. "I- I believe you Coryo." He smiled down and then pressed a kiss to my lips. I melted against his touch and placed my hands to cup his face. When we pulled away I still couldn't shake the questions that flooded my head. Remembering what my mother said, I couldn't help myself from the words spilling out of my mouth.

"Coryo... one last question, Who is Lucy Gray?"

His lips parted and his eyes frantically started to search my face. "How did you hear about her?"

"Coryo?"

Anger started to flood his eyes and his jaw clenched. Regret filled every part of my body and I sat up on the bed, keeping my hands on his face. "I'm sorry Coryo, is that a touchy subject I-" He was quiet for a moment as if planning what he was going to say.

"She... she was a nobody girl from District 12. I had to mentor her for The Hunger Games that year for my school project. I came out on top, Snow always lands on top."

He spoke through gritted teeth while he looked into my eyes, scanning my face for a reaction. What he told me so far aligned exactly with what my mom told me. This was even more worrying. There had to be more. He was keeping something from me. He could sense my distrust and started to speak again, more carefully.

"Darling, do you want the full truth?"

"Yes Coryo..."

He let out a heavy sigh. "She was my first girlfriend. We had a short fling and then she cheated on me." My jaw dropped. "Oh Coryo I'm so sorry..." I reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, tangling my fingers in his blond locks of hair. "It's okay darling, you didn't know. You don't know a lot of things." His hands started to rub my back up and down while I held him close.

"I never loved her anyways, I could never love someone so low class and trashy."

In an odd way I felt almost comforted by that statement. It meant he wasn't lying to me, I was his first love, right? He placed his hands on my stomach and pushed me away from the hug. My arms fell back down to my sides and I stared at him with deep remorse in my eyes. He smiled again, "It's okay Darling, is there anything else I can answer for you to put your troubled mind at ease?" Truthfully, I had a lot more questions but I felt bad and I didn't want to push him away more, not when our relationship was so delicate. I shook my head 'no' and he hummed before laying down on the bed. I followed suit and he turned his back to me.

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight..."

"I love you"

And then I was met with silence.

~

The next day passed and it was business as usual but I still couldn't get my mother's voice out of my head. My ears rang with every corner I turned. I saw Coryo's panicked face every time I closed my eyes after I asked him if he had killed anyone. It made me sick to my stomach but I didn't believe him. I do believe my mom was wrong about Lucy Gray though, he was genuinely hurt when I asked about her. I couldn't even imagine anyone wanting to cheat on him. Especially a girl from District 12, the opportunity to be with a capital man, especially one as charming, smart, and talented as Coryo should be a blessing. My poor husband probably had to deal with so much then.

When he came home he didn't talk to me that day. He couldn't even look me in the eye really. I felt wildly embarrassed and guilty. Of course, he was pulling away again, I pushed him. I should've just kept my pretty mouth shut like he had asked. My mom must have been mistaken. They don't know him like I do. It was nice to know how much they cared about me though.

Coriolanus slept in his office that night. I assume he had business to attend to so I just sat and tried to sleep alone in bed.

~

The next morning I woke up late and decided to try and make it up to Coryo by trying to leave more "I love you" notes around the house. I painted a portrait of a lake on one of his mugs, adding rose and ivy details to the handle. Stumbling down the hallway in the afternoon I walked by Coryo's office. I knew I wasn't allowed in there but damn it I was so curious. There were two maids in there talking and I silently eavesdropped.

"Careful when dusting that... This man has a lot of secrets and what's in those vials one I do not want to know about."

The other laughed and they continued to clean up.

"Isn't it odd we decided to have such a liar for a president?"

'Liar?' I thought. Why does everyone seem to think he's a liar?

"Yeah but he's great for the economy and the future of Panem."

Silence filled the room and then they both started laughing again.

"That doesn't seem to make it any better, then again, let's not bite the hand that feeds us."

They started to finish cleaning his office and once they left I snuck in. My hands traced around the walls of his office, it was small and packed with things. On his desk lay a little book filled with names and numbers, a pack of matches, a single white rose, and the vials the maids were talking about. Curiously, I reached for it. It was probably liquor or something. I picked it up carefully and examined it. It was clear and sealed shut. Cautiously, I started to unscrew the top and placed a drop of it on my finger. The liquid burned through my skin and I yelped loudly in pain. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it off my hand. I screamed in pain and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Hot tears ran down my face as I removed the napkin and saw the damage that it left. My finger was red, hot, and my flesh was melted in the shape of a circle where the drop had been placed. Gasping desperately for breath, I tightly closed the lid of the vile and put it right back where I found it. I continued to cry from the searing pain, my finger throbbed and I whimpered desperately trying to keep quiet. I picked up my trash and made sure I left no trace of myself in there while I rushed to the kitchen, rinsing my finger under the water. Once the burning had gone away I slid down and laid my back against the kitchen cabinet.

"F- fuck fuck fuck- fucking poison. WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE HAVE POISON?"

I started to rock back and forth while I watched the skin around the burn turn purple. This must've been some sort of divine punishment to me for going into his office knowing I wasn't supposed to. One maid heard my wailing and hurried over to help me. She put an ointment on my finger before wrapping it up in a band-aid and above all, she didn't ask a question. I couldn't tell if that meant she was used to this kind of thing or if she was trained not to. I picked myself up off the floor and continued to go about my day and pretend that nothing happened.

Coryo didn't come to bed that night, I wasn't too sure if he had even come home honestly. I fell asleep alone again with nothing but my thoughts.

~

The next morning I was awakened by a rough hand shaking my shoulder. I yawned and opened my eyes to be met with Coryo's blue ones. They were deep and full of concern. He was sitting next to me on the bed still in his work clothes. I felt that pit of grief deep in my stomach again. Something was wrong, greatly wrong. "Coryo?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"Y/N..."

"Coryo what's the matter?"

He sighed with deep remorse and said the worst news I had ever heard in my life. "Your parents... Y/N... your whole family they... um... their house burned down last night and the firefighters couldn't make it in time. When they arrived there, they searched the house but not a single survivor was found. They did find this though in your mothers room," He handed me a single stuffed doll. The doll was mine from when I was a child, it didn't have a single burn on it. I held it in my hands and sat staring at it in silence. They were gone. My whole family was gone. The tears threatened to spill but I felt so sick of crying lately. Why did my life feel like it was falling apart so fast? I just wanted a happy life as a newly wed and I have gotten nothing remotely close to that.

"Coryo... What's wrong with me? I'm like a bomb, anyone who cares about me either leaves me or dies... Am I cursed? I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't even get to hug them or- or- or see how big my little brother got or how smart my older brother is. I- I- I should've seen them more," I started weep, my tears starting to fall onto the doll below me, as if my tear were staining the innocence of the girl I used to be. Coriolanus grabbed me and held me close as I started to cry furiously into his chest. He planted a soft kiss on the top of my head and tried to whisper things to calm me down. His hands rubbed up and down my back.

"Darling, it's okay. You're going to be okay. You have me. I'll be here for you always. I make you happy, right? Your parents were always trying to keep you away from me... they didn't know you like I do. They don't know what you need darling but I do. We are going to get through this together, okay?'

I could barely process what he was saying through my tears. I just nodded into his chest and he continued to let me cry. I felt so safe in his arms in this moment. He was right, I do need him.

~

I couldn't get out of bed for days. The grief struck me overwhelmingly. I couldn't think straight. I just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours at a time. When the foggy mist of the shock that had clouded my rationale finally faded I was left with the remaining thoughts. What was even real in this life anymore? I remember feeling so sad when almost none of my friends showed up to my wedding. I felt so alone and isolated but at least I knew I still had my family and my husband to be there for me and now, all I had was Coriolanus. I love him, I need him, but he's the type that gives love and then takes it away.

Maybe my mom was right... Maybe I do deserve better. This relationship isn't healthy. Has it ever been? Even when I was first falling for him, I always viewed him as better than me, which he is but shouldn't we be equal? Maybe... I'm too reliant on the love he gives me. I hate that. I hate how big of a hold he has on me. The way my happiness is always at the tip of his fingers, it makes me feel so weak. His hold on me is degrading. The worst part is, he knows how strong his power over me is. He knows me. He's learned me inside and out and he knows how to keep me under his palm.

My mom was right. The night of the party, he started yelling at me then when I threatened to leave him he switched. How could- how could I be so stupid? He switched because he didn't want me to leave him. He needed me to be there for him, to be his shining sparkling eye candy, to complete his perfect picture of domestic living, to be his waiting servant. And then when we made love that night, it must've not meant anything to him. He knows I believe everything people do has a purpose, he knows I don't ever want to exchange sex like a handshake. He slept with me to prove to me that he 'loves me' but that can't be true. I love him, his heart will never have space for me in it. No man treats someone he loves the way he treats me. I've been aware of this but every time I've gotten the courage to leave him he pulled me back in.

He's smart, he's manipulative. He's been doing it to me for months now. How could I be so stupid? Love is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. He found his wide-eyed dreamer and just needed to ruin me. Even recently, he used my parent's death to try and make me even more dependent on him and it worked. I can't live without him.

"He did it"

His desk, the poison, no sane and normal man keeps poison in his office. It's making me think. The boy... the one my parents sent. Did Coryo know he was going to be there? He must've, the party was invite-only, you don't just sneak into the capital parties. The last thing Curtis did before he left was pour himself another cup of the juice. When Coryo ushered me into the house, I heard a man coughing from the garden but I didn't look, I couldn't, I was pushed away. His body the next morning... He had blood on his mouth. I remember learning from the academy that some poisons often makes you cough up blood before you die. Coryo had the poison. Could it be... did Coryo murder him?

"He did it"

Before I looked away when I saw his body in the garden, a glint of red could be seen in my vision. Was that his red coat?

"He did it"

Oh my god, the matches. He told me my parents house burned down.

"He did it"

The book with the names and numbers... who's names were in that book? What were the numbers?

"He did it"

I got out of bed for the first time in ages and rushed down to his office. My bones ached from the lack of mobility. I reached his office and rushed in. His notebook was gone. I started opening his drawers frantically. Finally, I found it. I opened up the pages and that was the last bit of proof I needed. His journal had the names and addresses of the different capital citizens, one page dedicated to every member of my family.

"He did it"

The matches were missing fully. Not anywhere to be found.

"He did it"

The doll. My doll. The doll probably reminded him of me, just a pretty object he can play with whenever he wants something to hold. It didn't have a single burn mark on it at all, he must've gotten it before the fire. Either that means my family let him into the house before he burned it down or he's been keeping it for a while.

"He did it"

My mom did say she had been trying to reach out to me for ages but couldn't. He was stopping them. He wanted to keep me isolated. I really didn't know who I was marrying. I married a murderer.

"He did it"

I couldn't continue to live with him but I can't live without him. It made me feel sick how much love I still felt for him even knowing he had been trying to destroy me from the inside out. I can't let him take my light. My mom really was right. Everyone who gets close to him ends up dead, missing, or disgraced. It's my turn to pick which path I was going to be.

My heart raced as I ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote a note for him, leaving it on the desk. I reached over and grabbed that familiar vile of poison and unscrewed the top. The cold glass hit my lips and I drank the contents like a shot. My heart raced and I started coughing profusely, everything burned from the inside out. Blood started to flow out the corners of my mouth but for once, I wasn't crying. Mama, I'm coming.

"He did it"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Coriolanus Snows POV

I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry when I found Y/N dead on the floor of my office. Blood trickled down the side of their mouth and they were holding the tiny vial I had on my desk. Y/N knew not to go into my office and frankly, I was shocked to see that it happened in there. On my desk was a note that said: "Till death do us part". I screamed loudly and felt like my body wasn't my own as I feverishly picked up the body and walked to the nearest in-house medic. Tears poured down my face. How dare Y/N just decide to selfishly leave me like this? After everything I had done? All the trouble I went through? It was ridiculous. I remember thinking, "I had you."

When I first met Y/N I remember believing that they were the embodiment of everything good in the world and the embodiment of what I needed in a partner. Loyal, innocent, trusting, naive, controllable. Truly, there isn't any room in this world for such goodness. My darling needed to be tougher or the cold world would do nothing but ruin them. I tried to make them tougher but their unconditional love was annoying at times but I tolerated it. No matter what I did to push Y/N away, they insisted on loving me till the end, but why? And if they did love me so much why would they leave me like this?

The medic couldn't do anything. Y/N was long gone by the time I got there. So much wasted time and potential. I don't think I will marry again. Not for many years at least. Just when it is time for me to have heirs I will marry. Gives my future wife less time to escape. I have to marry someone cruel, someone whom I can never seem to care about, especially not love. Y/N's crippling kindness almost had me falling at the end and that was dangerous.

The funeral was lavish. My darling was beloved by the public. Many mourned for weeks. It was shocking. As much as I tried to not care, the energy of the house felt so different now. It was a wasteland of what once was. Dust collected in every nook and cranny. I stumbled into the house and stood still, letting the world spin around me for a moment when I tilted my head up and noticed something I hadn't seen before, paintings, hundreds of them. Y/N painted tons of things around the pillars and walls. They were beautiful. Ivy and roses, clouds and sunshine. I forgot how truly artistically talented Y/N was. My eyes followed how the ivy traveled around the pillars. Ivy was a great metaphor for Y/N, beautiful, and simple, but still a pest that will grow all over you if you aren't too careful.

"Sir, Welcome home. We have prepared dinner for you." the butler said, pulling me out of my trance.

"Thank you and can we get someone to repaint this room ASAP, I need some things removed.

-

The whole house ended up being repainted. I never noticed how many of those paintings were left. Even on the furniture, I couldn't escape any of my memories of Y/N anywhere. The notes were the absolute worst. Small pieces of paper everywhere with sweet nothings written on them. "Have a good day", "I love you", "Good morning to Panem's greatest leader" Nowhere was safe. Memories and images circled my brain constantly.

I sat at the table we used to eat at alone, drinking coffee from my mug while reading the newspaper. They still were on the front page. It's been a month since the incident. I sighed and folded the paper, placing it face down on the table. I reached for the mug when I saw it again. A painting of a lake with roses and ivy painted on the handle. The lake... the lake. The lake of District 12,

Lucy Gray

The roses,

My Mother

The Ivy...,

y/n

I shouted at the top of my lungs and threw the mug at the wall. When will I finally be free of the past pests that continue to haunt my life?

~

A/N: WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK??? It is almost 5 AM and I stayed up all night writing this, I hope you guys liked it. let me know plz. Now accepting requests for new stories, perhaps with new characters :)))

[captainsaltymuyfancy2]

I’m not so sure about this post, I’m not really confident in any of it, it’s mostly just wild conjecture and aimless rambling. I’m open to discussion and to changing my mind, this is just what I’m thinking at the moment. Thank you to everyone cited for inspiration❤️

I’m really fascinated by what Jacob said about how the longevity of Louis and Armand’s relationship has led to both tenderness and resentment. The reasons why Louis might resent Armand are PLENTIFUL, but what possible reason would Armand have to resent Louis? Obviously it’s not going to be a “good” reason, but that makes it all the more delectable.

Right now I kind of have this theory that Armand resents Louis in part because he thinks Louis’ shows of affection are disingenuous. Put more accurately, his suspicion that Louis’ affection is disingenuous and his ensuing resentment underlie a deeper fear that Louis doesn’t love him.

HOWEVER, the kicker is that Louis does still feel some kind of affection for Armand. Just like he felt for Lestat when he and Claudia (mostly Claudia) were planning their escape, Louis feels some love for Armand still, but he’s able to leverage it in pursuit of his goal. What exactly this goal is remains to be seen (although I have some serious guesses…well mostly one guess).

Whatever it is, I think Louis has been planning very carefully for a long time to get to it. As @likethemodel points out here, their bed is literally a chessboard, like the one Claudia played in order to best Lestat and get under his skin in s1. The IWTV cast and crew have repeatedly describe the dynamics in Dubai as “3D chess”, and it doesn’t get much more 3D than using yourself as a chess piece. This is what the major question in Dubai is for me: not “did he fuck that old man” or “did Armand alter Louis’ memories”, but rather “What is Louis’ agenda, why has he brought all of these pieces together in this way?”

If my theory is correct, I think it would tie in nicely with the book. As @nativehueofresolution said in this post, Louis in the book does love Armand, but not in a way Armand understands at that point. If this was translated into the show, it could take the form of Louis still loving Armand in some way, like his few displays of affection such as kissing him in bed and squeezing/rubbing his shoulder during the interview being at least partly genuine, but also strategic.

So even though Louis’ affection in these gestures may be somewhat genuine, the context is still performative in order to accomplish a higher goal, though exactly what remains unclear. This much I think Armand can see and he resents, but I think he misinterprets it to mean Louis doesn’t love him at all. But the love is there and it is mutual to a degree, just not in a way Armand can see, which is kind of poetic justice and the absolute least he deserves.

Digressing a bit, even though Louis is being genuinely affectionate at times, even if it was totally without ulterior motives, it still could never be enough for Armand, because what he views as love is simply not something Louis can give.

In an interview posted here by @diasdelfuego, Hannah Moscovitch says she thinks that “Armand is Louis’ creature”, and agreed with the interviewer that Armand “serves a god” in his relationship with Louis. I interpreted this to mean that Armand has *made himself* into Louis’ creature, Louis’ disciple. And like Judas in the artwork in their bedroom (post also courtesy of @diasdelfuego), Armand becomes resentful and thinks Louis doesn’t love him because Louis doesn’t treat him the way Armand thinks a disciple should be treated.

The problem (well, one of MANY) is that this dynamic Armand has tried to create pretty much dooms him to never get back the kind of love he wants from Louis right now. In deciding he ‘serves a god’, Armand has made it impossible for Louis to love him in the way Armand craves, because Louis is not a god. Armand has made himself a disciple to a god that doesn’t exist, and feels betrayed when that nonexistent god doesn’t respond to his worship. Again, it’s poetic justice, but only the very tip of what he deserves. Lukewarm justice.

It’s surely not lost on Louis how stupid (more accurately, hypocritical and insulting) it is that Armand worships him like a god, and yet Armand himself holds godlike power over Louis’ life. A disciple does not control a god, and Louis knows this, he’s chronically Catholic. He knows the control Armand has over him, and I think this interview is partly a way for him to circumvent that power. Armand’s attempts to manipulate and “protect” Louis doom his quest for all-consuming devotion even more. I love messy bitches who create their own problems.

The god-worship is probably one aspect of Louis’ resentment toward Armand, but again this is something that’s so deeply, painfully layered. Between forcing Louis to turn Madeleine and killing Claudia (assuming, as most of us are, that the show is following the book in this way), the depth of Louis’ resentment for Armand is abyssal. Which would make the fact that Louis does still love him (per my aforementioned theory) even more shocking and scrumptious, and his plotting all the more emotionally difficult.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Chapter Two

The Strategist of the Second Division

I had a few requests for this, so voila. Should there be a part three? Still unclear, but let me know what you think :)

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 5.5k CW: drunk reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Table of Contents | Read on A03

--

“So, Ace?” 

Marco’s voice broke through to you, and you realized you had been staring at the flame user again. 

“Annoying,” you said, scowling. 

Ace was up on a table, doing some kind of dinner show. You refused to admit that he had captured your attention. He wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just showing off. 

Marco’s eyes flitted between the second division commander and you, and he smirked to himself. 

“Then look away,” Marco said slyly. 

You rolled your eyes, doing your best to let your eyes land anywhere else in the room. But they always kept coming back to the man on the table. They seemed to be doing that more recently. The two of you hadn’t talked since your first night back, which was fine with you most of the time. You were never the one to make the first move. 

“There’s a mission briefing for the second division tomorrow,” Marco said. “Sounds like you guys will be going somewhere soon.”

“And?” you asked, irritated by the reminder that you weren’t invited. 

“You’ll get him all to yourself during that,” Marco said, a cheeky grin appearing on his face. “You won’t have to share him with that posse over there.”

“I told you, Marco-”

“And you two can gaze at all the stars you want,” he continued, ignoring you. 

You stared daggers at him, but he just smirked. You couldn’t intimidate Marco the way you could with everyone else on the crew. 

“Fire boy over there told me all about it the other night,” Marco said, rising up from the table. Your eyes landed on Ace again as Marco bent down to whisper in your ear. “He’s quite smitten with you, you know.”

“I don’t care!” you yelled, louder than intentional. Eyes turned to look your way, and even Ace stopped what he was doing to glance over at you. 

Marco had succeeded in what he wanted to be done, and as he walked away with a puffed out chest, you knew that you had fallen into his trap. You grabbed your dinner tray and booked it out of the mess hall, trying to hide your fluster with a look of irritation. 

As you stormed down the hallway, you heard quickened footsteps approaching behind you. 

“Are you happy, Marco?” you demanded, turning around. 

You were instead met with the freckled face of Portgas D. Ace, his cheeks pinked and his breathing slightly high from running after you. His eyes were wide from shock and concern.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, turning away to hide your own blush. “Thought you were someone else.”

“Wait!” Ace yelped. “I, uh-actually have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You turned back to him, your brows furrowing. 

“What do you want?” Your voice came out harsher than you meant to, and you could see Ace’s eyes sadden for a second. 

“I was hoping-” Ace stopped, looking around uncomfortably. “Well, there’s a briefing tomorrow for our upcoming mission.”

You scoffed, turning away. “Thanks for reminding me.” 

You were about to storm off when he spoke. 

“I was hoping you’d join me.”

You turned back to him, muddled with confusion. You could see that Ace was trying to read your expression, but you kept your face as neutral as possible. 

“That’s not really protocol,” you said simply. 

“I’d like to have someone in the room who knows their stuff,” he said. “I hear you're a strategist.”

Damn that meddling Marco. He was always up to something. 

“Is this some kind of peace offering you’re handing to me?” you asked, suspicious of his motives. 

Ace chuckled at that, but didn’t answer. “So, will you join me?”

You bit your lip, trying to decide if this was a pity offer or not. 

“I’m surprised you want a hot-head being your strategist,” you answered instead. 

Ace rolled his eyes, a smile dancing on his lips. “You are not a hot head,” he said. 

You could feel your skin getting warm. “And how would you know what I am? You don’t even know me. We met a few days ago!”

“And every time you’ve gotten mad since then, you’ve gotten mad on behalf of someone else. Yesterday, when a couple of guys took the News Coo seagull hostage, and you went berserk on them. You blew up in the kitchen because someone intentionally messed with a recipe as a prank. When a few people were messing around with the sails and they got torn, and you got so mad you burned a piece of rope yelling at them.” 

Ace paused to smirk at you. “You have righteous anger, which is why you’re a good strategist.”

You’re not sure when your mouth fell open, but you stood in front of him, mouth agape. You were stunned into silence by both his attention to detail and just how strange it all was. He knew so much about you in such a short amount of time. 

“Have you been watching me, Portgas D. Ace?” you asked, still staring at him in bewilderment. 

His cheeks turned red and his eyes widened. His fingers ran through his hair, a movement he did when he was nervous or realized he was about to be in trouble. 

“Not in a creepy way,” he groaned, his voice full of embarrassment. “I just wanted to see if I could trust you.”

He had been watching you. Of course, you had been doing the same thing. Though you couldn’t admit that. There had been a few times over the past few days where your eyes had met his, but it always ended with you both looking away nervously. You assumed that he had just sensed your eyes on you. But no, he had been looking at you too. 

“Right…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling the awkwardness in the air. 

“Please. I want you there tomorrow,” Ace begged. 

“Fine.” You found your heart quickening his words, and you turned away before your face could give it away. “I’ll be there.”

You took off down the hallway, leaving him standing there with a half-dazed smile watching you go. 

You had trouble sleeping that night. You blamed it on the roughness of the sea, or the noise that came with staying in a bunkhouse, but your mind wouldn’t quiet. Portgas D. Ace was watching you. 

When you saw the first hint of light start to appear outside, you finally got up. You had barely slept, but at least now you had a reason to be out of bed. You grabbed some of the strongest coffee they had from the dining hall and walked into the clinic, hoping to find Marco. 

He was in his office, checking over some kind of medical chart, and you sat down on a stool, quietly sipping at your coffee until he was done. 

“I swear, some things never change,” he mumbled, pulling his glasses off. 

You hummed in agreement. You had always found your way to the clinic in the past when you needed a quiet moment, the two of you enjoying each other’s company compared to the loud scene of the ship. 

He put his papers down and faced you. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

You looked at him, confused by his words. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled softly. “It’s Ace, isn’t it?”

You scowled. “I didn’t say anything about him,” you hissed. Why did everything always come back to that guy?

But you couldn’t help thinking about him, now that Marco had brought him up. You had noticed a few things about Portgas D. Ace over the past few days. People tended to gravitate towards him. He always managed to be the life of the party, no matter what the task was. He was overly affectionate, always slapping people on the back and thanking them when they helped him out. Sometimes he laughed so hard he’d send sparks flying out from his body unintentionally. He would randomly fall asleep; and always seemed unaware of his time spent unconscious when he woke up. 

You had to admit, you understood why your father had made him a division commander. Though you’d never admit it, Ace had a sort of ability to rally people together and find a cause to fight for. It was admirable, even though a part of you still loathed him for taking your promised position. 

He was strange, you had to admit. But you were intrigued. 

“You’re drifting again,” Marco said. “Where’s your mind at?” 

“Nowhere!” you claimed, though you both knew it wasn’t true. 

“You didn’t sleep last night, I’m guessing,” Marco commented, looking at your coffee cup. “You better perk up, or it’s going to be obvious that something is affecting you.”

“Did you tell Ace that I’m a strategist?” you finally asked, caving in to your desire to know. 

Marco raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. 

“It’s not like that,” you said. “I just don’t want some pity offer because he feels bad about taking my title.”

“Right,” Marco said, obviously not believing you. “I didn’t tell him anything about you, though…” he paused, a devilish look in his eyes. “He has certainly tried to get me to.”

You perked up at that. “What do you mean?”

Marco laughed at your reaction, and you blushed, angry for being discovered by such a cheap trick. Marco was always teasing you with such obvious traps, and you always fell for them. You weren’t even sure how you felt about Ace, but you couldn’t deny that he caught your interest. 

“Forget it,” you grumbled. You picked up your coffee and headed for the door, tired of the conversation. 

“He asks about you,” Marco said. “Almost every day.”

You could feel his eyes on your back, which was the only thing that kept you from whipping your head back around and demanding more information. It was another trap, you were sure of it. 

“Don’t care!” you called back as you left the room. You kept walking out the door and down the hallway. You had a meeting to prepare for anyway. You needed to focus and work on proving your worth amongst your crew. 

You sat quietly on the deck, trying not to let your mind wander too much. You knew you had to prepare for the meeting shortly, but you couldn’t bring your mind to focus on that. So you stared out at the ocean, sipping on another cup of coffee. 

“Need a refill?” a familiar voice called, and you jumped. You turned and found eyes as dark as the depths of the sea, and you found yourself at a loss for words. 

Ace stared at you quizzically, waiting for an answer. 

“No thanks,” you muttered, finally breaking your eye contact with him and looking back out at the sea. 

“Care if I sit?” Ace asked, already sitting on the stool. 

“Kind of,” you grumbled. 

Ace shot you a surprised look that was mixed with hurt. 

“Sorry.” He started to get up. “I can go.”

“No!” you said, just a little too quickly. “I’m, uh, just not in the mood for conversation.”

Ace chuckled at that, and got comfortable on the stool again. “Agreed. It’s too early for conversation.”

You smiled and nodded, staring out at the sea. You were unable to relax now, painfully aware of him being so close to you. 

“I know I said I wasn’t up for chatting,” you said, and you felt Ace’s gaze move to you. “But why did you ask me to be your strategist?”

Ace opened his mouth in surprise, but no words came out at first. You wanted to look over at him, but you were afraid that you would get lost in those bottomless eyes or endless freckles. You couldn’t afford to be distracted today. 

“They say you’re the best,” he finally admitted. 

“Who says that?” you pressed. 

“Everyone,” Ace said, looking back to the sea. “Marco and everyone in the first division fawns over you, but Jizou respects you so much-I’ve never seen him respect another crewmember as much as you. Haruta talks about you with so much admiration, I think he actually has a crush on…nevermind.” Ace tensed for a moment, before rushing on. “Izou adores you, Ramba smiles when your name is brought up, and every time your name comes around, the Clandine Incident is too. Apparently you did some admirable stuff there.”

You smirked. The Clandine Incident had been about 60% luck, but people always gave you the credit for great strategy as well. And years later, you never corrected them. It stopped being worth the hassle long ago. 

“I want you as my strategist because your reputation precedes you,” he said. “Not because-”

“Ace! You’re late!” Your father’s voice boomed across the ship, and you tensed. You’d both be scolded for your tardiness. 

“That’s our cue,” Ace grinned, and got up, unbothered by the public reprimand from your father.

You followed him, curious of what he was going to say if you hadn’t been interrupted. 

When you entered behind Ace, your father shot you a curious look, but didn’t say anything as you took the strategist seat next to your division commander. 

“Second division finally got a strategist, huh?” Thatch quipped to the table. You could tell he wanted to jest more, but your father cleared his throat, and you all turned your attention to him for the briefing. 

You had sat in on briefings before. Ever since you were a kid. First you sat at the table with Marco and colored quietly, and that evolved into taking notes and making plans with the other division commanders and strategists. It had been a place you felt comfortable speaking up and giving ideas. 

But now it felt different, more tense than you remembered. Perhaps it was your return to the table that put everyone on edge, and you stayed quiet during most of the meeting. Ace occasionally dozed off, and you kicked him to keep him awake. It wasn’t until the end of the meeting that you finally spoke. 

Kingdew’s strategist spoke up during the deliberation point. “I think if we have two divisions take the left flank and one take the right, we should be fine.”

You were looking at the map, frowning. You didn’t know the strategist; he must’ve joined the crew after you left. His strategy would probably work, but it would take a strong single division to pull off the right flank, and it was risky. 

“What do you think?” Ace’s voice rang out, calling your attention back to the room. You looked to see who he was talking to, and you realized he was looking at you.

“It’s not a bad plan,” you agreed. “We could probably make it work if we had one of the stronger divisions flanking from the right.”

Ace looked at you expectedly. “But?” 

You weren’t sure why, but you felt nervous. Everyone in the room was staring at you, waiting for your input. You used to have pride in that, but now it just made you feel small. 

“How updated is this map?” you asked, looking at Namur.

“My guys got the layout two days ago,” he replied.

You hummed, staring back down at the map. It was recent, but things with the Navy could always change. Still, your confidence rating in accuracy was high. 

“And you can only spare three divisions?” you asked your dad, who nodded in response. 

“I think our best bet is to have one division flank each side. Have the strongest division hang back, communicate with the front two, and send assistance where needed. It saves our strongest fighters for the end of the fight, lowers enemy morale, and should be able to get the job done with little to no casualties.”

“Some things never change,” someone muttered, but you couldn’t tell who. A few people chuckled around the table. 

You turned back to Ace, who was giving you a stupid grin, and you ignored the heat that was rushing to your face. “That’s what I propose, at least.”

“Then let's do it,” Ace said, shrugging. “Thatch, Kingdew, if you agree?”

They both nodded. 

“We can get you a list of individuals in our division, but the Second division should be the one to hang back,” Thatch said.

“I think we could take a few members from the second division and place them under your temporary command for the mission as well, if that’s alright with everyone,” you considered. “Just to make sure the playing field is even.”

“Whatever you decide, we’ll go with,” Kingdew said, and Thatch nodded in agreement. 

You could feel Ace grinning while you stared at the map again, making sure you hadn’t missed any information or any holes in your plan. 

“Damn, pops,” one of the commanders grumbled. “Why’d you have to put Y/N in the Second Division? We could’ve used her.”

“Too bad!” Ace said, sticking out his tongue to his comrades. “She’s mine!” 

Ace wrapped his arms around you to solidify the joke, and you felt yourself tense being so close to him. He was warm, the bare skin of his chest against your body. He smelled like campfire and apples, and you bit your inner lip to keep your focus.

“Off!” you hissed. You quickly pushed him away, your face flushing with pink. You pretended to continue looking at the map even though you were too dizzy to see straight. 

Ace laughed nervously, and you could feel your father’s eyes on the both of you. He wasn’t the only one; you could sense Marco’s amused gaze, Thatch’s curious look, and Haruta’s envious stare at least. But you refused to look up.

“I’d like to get a list of all the division members so we can allocate division two properly,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. 

“I’ll get those to you this afternoon,” your father said, and you finally looked up at him. 

You gave him a tense smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

Whitebeard nodded at you, and then turned his attention to the rest of the table. “Strategists, you’re dismissed,” he said. “I need to speak with the commanders now.”

You took your leave with the rest, and went back to your bunkhouse. Now that the adrenaline from the meeting was over, the exhaustion was catching up with you. All you wanted to do was sleep. You pulled off your nice outfit and threw on a comfortable crop top and shorts, and climbed into bed. As soon your head hit the pillow, you were out.

You awoke to the presence of someone beside your bed, and your eyes opened to find your father’s pirate flag, displayed on an open back. 

“Ace?” you mumbled, grogginess thick in your voice. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and saw the flame user frozen where he stood. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he smiled nervously. “Just dropping off the names of everyone in division two, four, and eleven.”

You sat up, reaching for the papers now on your nightstand. Ace looked tense and extremely nervous, but you didn’t pay him any mind. You did a quick shuffle through the papers, scanning all of the names. You recognized most of them, and it seemed like both four and eleven were pretty evenly matched in skill. 

“Do you need a quiet place to work?” Ace asked you. 

“I’ve got one,” you said, slipping on your shoes and heading for the door, still scanning through the names. 

“There’s a party tonight!” Ace called after you, but you hardly heard him, already absorbed in your work to create a perfect strategy. 

Your body went on autopilot, directing you to the clinic. There were a lot of names you didn’t know, and you would need Marco’s opinion for them to make sure the divisions were as evenly matched as possible. 

“Help,” you said, entering the clinic, and you saw Marco jump up to see you. 

“Tch,” he chided. “You shouldn’t call for help when you’re entering a clinic unless you need it. You worried me.”

You shot him an annoyed look.  “I do need help.”

“This is a medical clinic,” Marco grumbled, taking the sheets of paper out of your hand. “I’m not a therapist.”

“You’d be a good therapist,” you commented.

“I don’t get paid enough for that.”

“You don’t get paid at all.”

You followed him back into his office with a smirk, and the two of you went over names you were unfamiliar with. You made it about halfway through Thatch’s division when the door to the clinic slammed open. 

“Marco!” Ace hollered. “I need help!”

“You two, I swear,” Marco muttered under his breath. He rose from his seat and walked out of his office. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what to do.” You couldn’t see Ace, but he sounded flustered. 

Marco sighed. “About what?”

“Y/N!” Ace cried. 

Your cheeks burned at the sound of your name coming from Ace’s lips. You saw Marco’s eyes slide over to you briefly, before snapping back to Ace. 

“What about her, Ace?” you could hear the mischief in Marco’s voice, and your stomach knotted. 

“I think she hates me,” Ace groaned. “She’s always irritated by me and ignores me! I tried to ask her about the party tonight, but she totally blew me off.”

Marco raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you again. “Did you actually ask her?”

“Well, I tried,” Ace said. “But she ran off with the papers I delivered before I could even get it out!”

“I’m sure she’ll be at the party,” Marco said, a smirk on his face. “Especially if she knows you want her there.”

Ace mumbled something too low for you to hear, and Marco busted out laughing. Your stomach churned thinking about what had been said to get such a reaction from the doctor. 

“Okay man, I need you to get out. I have some work to get back to. I’ll see you tonight. And I’m sure she will be there. ” 

“Thanks Marco,” Ace mumbled, and you heard the door open and shut. 

Marco came back into his office and you stared at the list of names intensely. You knew if you made eye contact with him, the teasing would never end. 

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Aita Leynolt, how do they fare in combat?”

“Really?” Marco said, disbelieving. “You don’t want to talk about what just happened?”

“I told you already,” you huffed. “I don’t care.”

Marco let out a loud, sharp laugh, indicating he clearly didn’t believe you. 

“You know what they say about division leaders and their strategists, don’t you?”

“Don’t. Care.”

“The time spent together. The high stakes. The authority dynamic. They can’t help but-”

“Marco!” you shouted, holding your hands over your ears. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Marco laughed. 

You gathered up your papers and stormed out of his office before he could utter another word. 

You found a quiet unused corner of the library and laid out your papers again, sifting through the names you were familiar with. Even if you didn’t know the newer names, you could get a pretty good sense of the division’s abilities based on the names you did know. Before you realized it, you had to light a lantern to be able to see the list. 

“Still looking at names?” spoke a voice from behind you, and you jumped. 

You looked behind you to find Ace peering over your shoulder at the sheets curiously. 

His eyes slid over to you and they widened nervously when they met yours. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, slightly irritated to have had your concentration broken. 

“Do you ever take a break?” Ace asked. “You’re always so serious.”

“I have things to do. People’s lives are on the line.”

Ace’s eyes grew soft at your sentiment, and you resisted the urge to melt. 

“I can help you go through the names, if you want,” he offered. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” you questioned.

He nodded, reaching over you to grab the papers and shuffled them all into a stack. “Tonight you’re not responsible for any lives, okay? Just your own.”

“Just my own…” you echoed, trying not to get lost in his campfire scent. 

He offered out his hand to help you up, but you stood up without accepting it. You could see he was hurt by that, and your heart felt an unwarranted pang, which you tried to ignore. 

You reached out for your papers, but Ace held them away from you. “Nope!” he said. “You’re enjoying the night.”

“At least let me put them away,” you groaned. 

“Nah, because I know what you’re going to do,” he teased. “You’ll stay on deck for thirty minutes and then you’ll sneak back down here to keep working.”

“I will not!” you gasped. You had planned to do exactly that, but you weren’t about to admit that he was right. 

“We’ll just put them in my room for safe keeping,” he said, walking down the hallway to the division commander suites. 

You groaned, but didn’t object any further. Every division commander had their own room, and they all shared a common living space and a bathroom. It was a pretty nice space, you had to admit. You had spent plenty of nights in Marco’s room throughout the years, both as a child and as a sick teenager, and your presence never seemed to cause him any inconvenience. 

You walked into the common area and Ace quickly stepped into his room, threw the papers on his desk, and shut the door, locking it for good measure. 

“Locking it seems a bit overdramatic,” you whined, but Ace just laughed. 

“Party time!” Ace yelled, and a few commanders stepped out of their rooms to join you. 

“Y/N,” Marco suppressed a smirk as he walked into the common room, but you ignored him.

“Hey!” Haruka called, bounding over to you. “It’s still weird to see you back on the ship, you know. I’m glad you’re back, though!”

“Thanks,” you laughed politely. “It’s really good to be back.”

Haruka started walking out the door, and you followed him. “You know,” he said, lowering his voice. “If you ever need to change divisions-”

“Oh, no no,” you said quickly. “I’m fine in division two. Thank you, though.”

“Offer is always open,” Haruka grinned at you, and you nodded. 

The thought of switching divisions now felt weird, even if you had begged for it a few days ago. The only person you’d consider switching for was probably Marco, or maybe Izou. 

“Drink for drink?” you heard Ace say to someone behind you, and Marco laughed. 

“Like hell I’m agreeing to that,” Marco shot back.

Ace jumped up to you, casually looping his arm through yours. “Drink for drink?” he asked, looking at you. 

You pulled away, shaking your arm out of his grasp. “No thanks. I value your life.”

Ace scoffed. “You think you can outdrink me?”

“I know I can.”

He held out his hand, eager to get you to shake on it. You grabbed his hand, forming a bet between the two of you. He was going to regret underestimating you. 

Seven drinks in, and you were feeling comfortably drunk. You were chatting with a new crew member when you felt a warm hand wrap around your shoulder. 

“Done with drink seven?” Ace purred in your ear, and you felt electricity jolt through your body. 

“Ahead of you, as usual,” you giggled back, handing him your cup.

“Here’s eight, then,” he said, filling it and handing it off to you. 

“You’re so kind,” you laced sarcasm in your words, but Ace pulled away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. 

When you finished drink eight, you wandered off to find Ace, ready to make him finish the rest of whatever he had left. But you didn’t see him with his normal crew, and you searched the deck, looking for his familiar back tattoo and orange hat. 

Finally, you found him, standing on the quiet part of the deck, watching the stars. 

“Found you!” you called, bounding over to him. 

“Hm?” Ace turned, and smiled when he saw that it was you. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I just needed a moment.”

His drink was still mostly full, and you frowned at it. 

“I’m empty,” you pouted, tipping over your cup to prove it. “You have to catch up.” 

“I think I’m done. You win.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You got sick already?”

He shrugged. “I want to remember this night, that’s all. I’m comfortably buzzed.”

“Lame.” 

Ace chuckled and looked up at the night sky. “The stars are nice tonight.”

You joined him at the railing, your arm pressing against his warm skin. 

“The moon is too bright,” you hummed. “The best time to stargaze is during new moons or when the moon is a little sliver.”

“And when will that be?” Ace asked. 

“Not for another two weeks or so, probably.” You shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to do this again.”

“Do what again?” Ace questioned, looking at you. Your droopy eyes met his, and you could see his freckles catch a hint of pink. 

You pointed at the sky. “Stargaze, silly!”

“Oh,” Ace said, his eyes returning to the stars. “We can still do it tonight, if you want. The sky still looks lovely.”

“I’m too tired tonight,” you said, rubbing your eyes.

“And you just scolded me for tapping out early,” Ace smirked. “Hypocrite.”

“Hey now! I’m only tired because I stopped drinking!” You gave him a playful nudge. “So it’s your fault.”

Ace downed the ale in his cup. “One more round?” he asked.

“Only if you carry me,” you pouted. 

Ace squatted down, and you scrambled onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold on. His arms grabbed your legs, and he hoisted you up into the air. You leaned into his tattooed back as he carried you back to the party. 

“Ace?” you mumbled in his ear. 

“Yeah?” 

“I want to go to bed.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, and you felt him still for a moment. 

“Okay,” he hummed, changing the course of his walk. 

He started to walk past the commander's hallway, but you leaned away from him, making him wobble for a second. 

“Your room?” you asked. You couldn’t believe you were being so bold. You blamed it on the eight drinks of liquid courage. 

“No, not tonight,” he whispered. 

You could feel his breathing was hitched and uneven. You made him nervous. You smiled into his neck at the thought. 

“Then drop me off in Marco’s room,” you countered. “I don’t sleep in the bunkhouses well during party nights.”

Ace laughed dryly, and headed down the commander’s hallway. When you got to Marco’s room, he jiggled at the doorknob, but it was locked. 

“My room it is,” Ace muttered. “I have to put you down to get my key.”

You let out a frustrated groan, but stood on your own two feet when he put you down. You stumbled for a moment, the room spinning slightly, but you managed to stay upright. 

Ace quickly grabbed his key and unlocked his room, opening the door and ushering you inside. You found the bed in the dimly lit room, and collapsed into it. You shoved your feet under the covers, and curled into the comfortable sheets. 

“Join me?” you asked, peering up at him through your lashes. 

He stared at you as if he were a deer caught in headlights. His eyes briefly scanned your body before snapping up to your face, and he gave a hard swallow. You could tell he wanted to join you, but something was holding him back. 

“Ace,” you whined, reaching a hand out for him to take. 

“Not like this,” he whispered. He bent down and softly kissed your forehead, and you found yourself wanting more of his touch. 

“I just want you to lay with me,” you reasoned. “Don’t be a pervert.”

Ace bit his lip, trying to resist, but you lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, pulling him into bed with you. You giggled as he tumbled into the bed, and he urgently shushed you to be quiet. He resigned himself to his fate, and you laid your head against his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled. “But not an uncomfortable warm. Just warm.”

“Yeah, so are you,” he noted. “I’ve never had someone be warmer than me.”

“I can’t help that I’m hotter than you,” you replied. 

“You could burn me.”

You giggled. “That’s the steam. The lava-”

“Would just melt my heart.”

You smiled and hummed approvingly at his joke, and nuzzled further into his chest, finally drifting off into sleep. 

Maybe Portgas D. Ace wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe you could get used to having him be the second division commander.

[navigatebetweenthelines]

Because a lot of you seem to be conflating intelligence to mean a single thing im going ro spell it out for you

DAZAI!

quick on his feet. He reads body language pretty well. he knows what to expect. His disadvantage is that he tends to project his own expectations onto others and this clouds his judgement. He is "intelligent" in the way thar he has a great capacity to improvise in tricky situations. He doesn't know everything he just always makes sure to have a plan B C D E F and G. Thats it

RANPO!

he knows all the facts about any given situation. His biggest disadvantages are that his judgement is shoddy at best and he doesn't always know what to do with that information. He is used to disregarding information for the sake of peace but that often means he ends up too close to the wrong people. He forgives EVERYONE he gives everyone a second chance. For as much as he sees the bad in a person he sees the good. He is unreliable and inconsistent. The good this about him is that as soon as he realizes his mistake he never makes it again.

POE!

JUSTTT as smart as Ranpo. He can GATHER as much information as Ranpo but it takes more effort. He has a lot of resources and technical know how. He knows technology, he knows politics, international law and most importantly people. His biggest advantage is that he knows exactly how to pressure people into doing what he wants. His mysteries are tailor made so that people can only escape when they realize what he wants them to. It is becuase of this that he saw society as a farce. That's why Ranpo and him are such a good team. Ranpo can see everything and Poe knows what to do with it.

Louisa!!!

She can slow down time when she's focused THAT'S her ability. She is capable of thinking of every possibility and coming up with dependable statistics. She's smarter than Dazai but less of an asset because her analysis relies on what she is aware of. In the world of BSD there is ALWAYS something no one is aware of. She isn't as capable of recovering quickly from a miscalculation so she really only has one shot.

Chuuya!!!

He doesnt need to use his intelligence most of the time because he can pretty much brute force his way out of most things. His intellegence relies on instinct. He has GREAT instincts. He knows when a situation has gone sour. Of course he doesnt usually verbalize it because with Dazai he doesn't need to and when he's alone why would he announce it to an enemy. He knows when he's safe and when he isn't. His biggest disadvantage is that he doesn't always listen to those instincts. In terms of priorities he almost always puts himself last and that leads to a lot of problems.

NIKOLAI!!!

Nikolai is similar to Chuuya except a bit more extreme because no one's life is his priority. His motivations are unclear and he always goes for the most imoral option. He isn't concerned with a specific desired outcome it is the inconsistency of his own actions that drive him.

FYODOR!!!

Kinda like Poe, in that he knows how to work people, but to a lesser extent and a little like the chameleon that Dazai can be but to a greater extent: he KNOWS people. He knows what a person wants more than anything and he promises that to them.

His biggest advantage is that he is smart enough to ally himself with people who have nothing else to live for. Sigma, Nikolai, Bram (before Aya), Nathaniel and Fukuchi are all outsiders. They are alone but desperately want to feel like they belong. Fyodors biggest disadvantage is that if those people find belonging elsewhere his influence on them shatters. He seems to be aware of that? Idk it's too soon to tell.

Mori!!!

He isn't crazy smart. He's just sadistic and cruel. He picks easy targets (children) and slowly takes away their agency. He undoes them until they have nothing to live for and they then become perfectly obedient adults. His biggest disadvantage is that he relies on the chain of abuse and that isn't sustainable as a dynamic for power. Chuuya and Akutagawa have no one above them to preassure them to listen to orders now that Dazai is gone. Also the extreme amounts of abuse he relies on is impossible to ditch out to EVERYONE. That's why he relied on the chain of abuse but that's failing. Mori isn't smart. He's a coward. He takes the shortest path no matter the resistance.

FUKUCHI!!

isn't smart either. He is just THE BEST chameleon. He hid in plain sight. He knows war and war tactics. He's a great spy and facilitating a strong bond with the target is a spy strategy.

They are not all the same stop conflating their perspectives as "knows everything". It leads to a lot of misunderstandings and a lot of misinformation. DAZAI IS NOT RANPO! He doesnt know everything. He's just really good at pretending he does.

[yanderearcane]

Yandere Viktor Headcanons

[I have notifications turned off for this blog, so go wild]

He was impressed by your appearance, especially for someone from Zaun 

Was to shy to approach you, but watched you from a distance

He was quite entangled by you

His entanglement turned into obsession

He wanted to impress you, get your attention, but he wasn't sure how

He feels that he can get your attention, he just has to figure out how to do it

Leaves little prototypes outside your home

Is flattered when you use them/like them

You finally approach him when hearing about him through the grapevine from above

You share many ideas of humankind and the unfair treatment of your fellow Zauns

While he is outcasted and alone, you have developed a social personality as to co-mingle with Piltovers, even though you hate them for their privilege. You just needed a way in. The best way to destroy a democracy is to take out the workers at the bottom; The whole pyramid will come crashing down- So, that's what you set off to do

You wanted Viktor's help

Whether he agrees with your motives or not is unclear from the beginning as he does not shy with his flirting with you

Your flattered and a little surprise by his sudden boldness

He does end up impressing you with his machinery- Though, when you take him up, you're a little surprised when finding out he knows Jayce

Though Viktor is quick to assure you he has no ties to that man- None that mattered

[gibor-zolel]

Tabitha: The sacrificial lamb? And possible Sybil motivations + partnership with Wayne

So in this post I'll be discussing why I think Tabitha is supposed to be the sacrifice and we're supposed to run the town.

I will also give a theory as to what Sybil's motivations might be and why her and "Wayne" seem to be working together even though they appear to dislike each other.

SPOILERS AND MANY SCREENSHOTS BELOW. THIS IS A LONG POST BE WARNED.

Right at the beginning of the game we can tell that Tabitha is unhappy with her lot in life and feels forced into doing what she believes is best for the town (similar to how Neeks feels forced and trapped)

She even admits as such during our time with her in chapter 3.

She; as the cousin who is older and has lived in Scarlet Hollow has been groomed by her mother into thinking that all this falls on her and she needs to sacrifice her life and happiness for the sake of the town.

But she's not the only one that believes this. Both Keneeka and Sybil have stated as much. Keneeka makes an offhand comment about how "we're not even a real Scarlet like Tabitha and this should fall on her" if we give up years of our life in chapter 3.

But Sybil is more....insidious and serious when she says this;

Sybil thinks it's Tabby's responsibility to give up a decade of her life to placate a ghost that was murdered by a Scarlet decades ago. I'm not gonna screencap every time Sybil makes an argument "for the greater good" but if you listen to her all throughout this story, you'll notice she does it A LOT.

Here's one example;

Everything has a price....but would Sybil do something like this herself? Perhaps...but it's more likely she's willing to do something horrible to her own daughter "for the sake of the town". She makes a big deal out of how the people in Scarlet Hollow are tied to this town and how they can't just get up and leave in chapter 2. She's not wrong but it's also obvious she's plotting and hiding information from us.

Which brings me to this; There's a strong possibility that "The Witch" is not merely an ancestor of Sybil but rather Sybil herself. In this scene we notice that The Witch has many poisonous plants...similar to how Book Smart can point out all the poisonous plants in chapter 1 or 4.

The Witch also sends Charlie on a dangerous mission to uncover the seals...hmmm who does that sound like? In chapter 4 after our tea session with Sybil she tells us to investigate the seals and find out what's hidden beneath them.

More importantly....if you have Mystical or don't drink Sybil's tea you can resist the urge to open the door in chapter 3.

We also learn towards the end of chapter 4 that Sybil is the one who told Dr Kelly to poison her son but we can only learn this if we didn't drink the chaga tea in chapter 2.

So it's pretty clear that Sybil wants two things;

(1) Uncover the seals

(2) Protect the town....even at the expense of others

But something that's interesting is that Sybil and whatever is piloting Sam Wayne's corpse seem to be working together for a common goal..even though the two don't seem to like or even respect each other.

We learn in chapter 1 or 2 depending on our choices, that "Wayne" has been coming by Sybil's tea room. Although it's unclear if the original Sam Wayne did this as well.

Regardless; Sybil tells Wayne she can't help him tonight and tells him to go away. In multiple chapters Sybil refers to Wayne as a drifter who'll be gone soon. She also stresses that we should be wary of him and to steer clear whenever he's around and we'll be fine. It's clear she knows what Wayne wants and most likely knows what "he" really is. She also gets this worried (disgusted?) look on her face if we tell her we're in love with Wayne (sorry no pic lol)

But she also steers clear of Wayne as well and rarely interacts with him and Wayne straight up threatens her if we choose to give up years of our life.

So why this hostility? And why do I think they might be working together?

Lets talk about those boxes in chapter 4. If you have Keen Eye in chapter 4 and open the closet you get this;

So it's Wayne that opens these boxes and shifts the doll around. Why? Well at the end of chapter 4 he tells us to investigate the estate and that we might be surprised at what we find. Wayne does this thing where it's obvious he knows what's going on but he won't directly tell us what's happening. He says it's because it'll be better for us to find out ourselves so "we can know who to really trust".

In other words; Wayne believes that once we uncover everything we'll be on his side. He's pretty confident about all this and I'm unsure how much to trust him; given that he repeatably bad mouths our friends and suggests we abandon them to save our own skins.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Why did Wayne open these boxes? Did he hope to find damming information against the Scarlet's? I find it hard to believe that Tabby has that pushed into the front of our closet but maybe she doesn't know it's there? And why didn't he put the boxes back in place? Almost as if he wants us to open that specific box.

What if...Wayne planted something there? Or maybe he took a piece of evidence and hid it? I think option 1 is more likely considering he seems to be isolating us from our friends.

I believe Wayne is working with Sybil to make sure Tabitha is the one to pay for all the crimes the Scarlet's did and insure that we are unharmed. I don't think Sybil cares too much if we get hurt but I also think she's of the belief that it's Tabitha who should be the sacrifice not us. Tabitha is the only one that Sybil agrees on being "The Cat" in episode 4. Sybil pushes you to distrust Tabby and perhaps Wayne planted something there to make us distrust her too.

Look at this interaction between Wayne and Tabby during the haunting;

He says this if you deliberately taunt Tabitha but I don't believe he's being sincere here. It sounds like he's mocking her in a subtle way given what he says in another option;

So far Tabby and Wayne haven't interacted much but imo it appears that Wayne enjoys taunting Tabitha and rubbing her ex's dead body and their failed relationship in her face. Pretty nasty but Wayne is pretty nasty to a lot of our friends.

Either way; Wayne is very invested in making sure we're safe and he gets pissed if we sacrifice ourselves and this is the only time we see him have any kind of emotion.

So what if he's so intent on keeping us safe he wants Tabby to take the fall for whatever skeletons are in the Scarlet's closet?

There's also this theme of the heir to the estate sacrificing their younger siblings or others to keep themselves in power. After all; Enoch sacrificed Teddy for power.

Tabby may be older than us but she's not the child of the heir, that's us. Vivian was supposed to be the boss of the mines but she left after she discovered she was pregnant.

I believe the Scarlet's have a history of having one side of their family rule while the other side gets used as sacrifices for whatever is cursing this town. Wayne wants to protect us from getting murked and Sybil is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the people of the Holler can keep living their lives.

And let's face it; most of the town believes Tabby is to blame for all of their problems. She isn't sociable, she's blunt, she's isolated, she's alone....the perfect scapegoat?

[utilitycaster]

Not that I agree with Ludinus, but can I point out that if he did go around searching for information like a normal person, Vasselheim would have just sent someone to deal with him?

Hi anon,

I'm not sure what this is in response to? I think this might be for a post I reblogged, in which case I would recommend you confer with the OP of that post to best understand their intentions and perspective.

Anyway, you can point that out, and have, but I think Vasselheim would only pursue him if he specifically tried to steal information from Vasselheim. He could probably authorize raids on any temple within the Empire without any retaliation, he demonstrably can seize control of archaeological sites, he did straight up steal the Omen Archive from the Grim Verity and Vasselheim's specific response and motivations are unclear (were they chasing him for that, or for, you know, the giant-ass Magic Moon Antenna in the desert), and more generally he's a 900 year old archmage who could have spent the past 600 years developing an elaborate infiltration system for every single academic or religious institution in Exandria if he were willing to actually build a loyal and dedicated heist crew instead of a system of underlings who high-key fucking hate him.

I think many people vastly overestimate the reach and involvement of Vasselheim. I know I made a joke about the Dragon Vatican but actually the way religion and worship works in Exandria seems rather decentralized. Vasselheim hasn't, for example, declared war on the Dwendalian Empire for outlawing half the Prime Deities. If Ludinus physically infiltrated Vasselheim, stole stuff, and was noticed, then yeah, Vasselheim would retaliate, but that's by no means the only way to do research on the gods.

[thewertsearch]

Damn, I never noticed these parallels!

It's honestly hard to tell whether they're due to the character's Title, though. Most of these characteristics aren't really unique to the Class they're assigned to here, with one exception.

Yes, the two Knights grew up vigilant - but Vriska's childhood made her jumpy, too, and Jade was explicitly encouraged by her grandfather to be on guard. Plus, all Alternian trolls need to be ready to fight - their planet has a million ways to kill them, from highbloods to FLARPers to cullings to undead.

It's true that Rose never understood her mother, but her peers aren't any better. Dave's still half-convinced the puppet porn is ironic, and John spent his entire life believing his father was a circus clown. Evidently, there's not a lot of straightforward communication going on in any of these families.

Both Witches have a duty they've long been aware of - but so have Kanaya and Aradia. However, there might indeed be something to what you said about their Guardians.

It's hard to dispute that Jade and Feferi have the strangest custodians in their respective parties - two eldritch monsters with unclear motivations and world-ending capabilities.

I've never had much luck analyzing the Witches, but maybe I should start with their unusual familiars. Perhaps the Witch is Sburb's answer to a Druid or Ranger - a class designed to interface with the natural environment and its inhabitants.

You run your whole palace as a sort of WILDLIFE ADOPTION FACILITY, even if the wildlife's need for care is dubious at best, and the practice really just amounts to an elaborate ROLE PLAYING SCENARIO.

If you squint, it certainly seems to fit. Jade's furaffinity for nature is well-documented, and Feferi's most valuable contribution to the party is the alliance she's formed with an alien species.

The main issue is that, again, these aren't the only characters with an affinity for the natural world, so I'd need to see a lot more evidence before I'm 100% sold on this take. We'll see if it holds up, going forward.