#he even goes so far as to off himself when he believes he’s helping his enemy

[averagepsychouser]

To ship Arcade and Vulpes is to dumb Arcade down to nothing but a gay doctor. In ANY circumstance he and Vulpes would despise each other, and if they don’t then that’s not Arcade and/or that’s not Vulpes.

It’s always irked me that people shipped them together, it’s not cute (especially not in the context of any Legion ending). To me it’s just an attempt at being different, outright dismissal of Caesars Legion and their beliefs, or a refusal to recognize Arcade as the character he is.

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?"- Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia (Pt.1 !) (Pt.2 Here!) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. ALSO SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 7 IN SILVER Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. I had to break Diasomnia into 2 parts because I exceeded tumblr's character limit. I have favorites I guess :/

This man is a child masquerading as an adult. As in to say that he resists any illogical emotions until they bottle up and explode. The traditional pathway for finding a life partner typically follows: stranger -> acquaintance -> friend -> crush -> lover ->partner. You know, as it normally goes when bonds form.

Sebek....is not a textbook case in this regard. His path is a bit more customizable

stranger -> person he is forced to interact with -> acquaintance of Lord Malleus -> Acquaintance of Lord Malleus that Sebek approves of -> Friend that Lord Malleus approves of -> Repressed Crush -> Acquaintance that Sebek avoids at all costs -> Acknowledged crush -> Acknowledged crush that Lord Malleus approves of -> Respected individual with mitigated interactions -> Courting -> awkward situationship -> lover -> awkward situationship (with better communication) -> spouse

Enough said.

This process isn’t as complicated as it may seem on paper. While there are many steps, Sebek is fortunate enough to have people in his life willing to force commitments onto him. It also helps that he has blind trust in a select few. This makes him a bit naive and easily influenced. A boon in the right hands, and a bane in others.

In short, Sebek is emotionally constipated and only acts when there’s a driving force. Otherwise he just gets frustrated. This is extremely apparent at two stages: ‘repressed crush’ and ‘awkward situationship’. Scratch that. Three stages.

Beginning at ‘repressed crush’ - Sebek realizes that he likes you when you ask about how his training is going. He happened by your dorm during his morning jog, and was more than happy to go off on a tangent of the strict regimen developed to forge a perfect knight.

Except that’s not what you wanted to hear. You were more interested in his health and how he was enjoying himself rather than how his work was benefitting Malleus.

His heart fluttered, as if a shock of electricity thrummed through his body. Having never felt this before, Sebek mistakes it for a lapse in his strength and runs off at a much faster speed than before. Forget a light jog, he had enough energy to run 500 laps around the school track.

Don’t you get it human?! You were distracting him! His body was at rest too long. Now shoo, you’re hindering him from doing his duty.

He represses these budding romantic feelings and ‘misinterprets’ them as deviant behavior. He even goes so far as to blame it on ‘useless hormones’ and convinces himself that it’ll pass. He spares it no thought until his pining becomes apparent to everyone except for himself

Que the driving force. Despite Sebek believing otherwise, he does have friends and his entire love-life can be credited to their affectionate stupidity.

Simply put, Ace takes every chance to seamlessly flirt with you whenever Sebek is around. Not in a subtle way either - he's making some risky comments and trying to eat up every moment of your time. The others in your year are well aware of what he's doing too. Deuce thinks he's being unnecessary, but also agrees that Sebek needs a push so he lets it happen. Epel has his gripes with Sebek, but admires him for his manly tenacity. So he's 100% in support of giving an extra push and even tries to copy Ace. Except... yeah, he's pretty bad at flirting so he gives up after one try. Jack is against it at first, not wanting to hurt your feelings in the process but gets talked into it after seeing you get salty over Sebek being distant. Ortho, bless his innocent soul, thinks of it as a fun experiment. Lil guy just wants everyone to be happy.

You have no idea though, which is great because all of Ace's attempts fail hardcore. Sebek and his chivalrous ways (jealousy) won't stand by if you're being constantly bombarded with 'unwanted' romantic affections.

Nevermind that you don't seem to be taking Ace seriously at all. It is still not proper behavior! It would be a stain to his Lord's image if Sebek knowingly let Malleus' beloved friend endure such a hardship.

Every time Ace makes an attempt, Sebek shuts him down faster than you ever could. You have no idea how he does it, but Sebek is always around when it happens. The timing is honestly creepy....until you catch on to what's happening because the Ramshackle prefect isn't a dumdum.

"So....prefect, how about we go get dinner together tomorrow? Just you and me, what do ya say?" Ace slides into the seat to your right during breakfast. He leans in on his fist, eyeing you with a mischievous grin that crinkles the heart on his cheek. Just as he does, Sebek occupies the seat at your left and pushes Ace back with his palm.

"Do you ever rest?! They will do no such thing, now eat your meal before it runs cold. The chefs worked too hard for their efforts to be wasted by a delinquent!" Sebek answers on your behalf like clockwork. This event was not an uncommon sight to anyone, neither was Sebek failing to control his volume, so no other student paid the show any mind.

Normally you'd let them spit a few words at each other before returning to their own devices. Yet letting this continue just felt cruel, especially knowing that Ace was doing it to get a rise from your friend. Although Sebek wasn't innocent in the matter either

"Alright - Ace, would you knock it off? You don't even like me that way so quit messing with my head. I thought you were better than this," you say in between bites, side-eyeing your friend with a disapproving glare "And you!" you turn to Sebek, "I can answer for myself. Why do you even care? It's not like you're in charge of my love life. Just because someone wants to date me doesn't make them a delinquent...sheesh"

Why...why does he care? Sebek short circuits at your scolding, opening and closing his mouth to rebuttal yet coming up with nothing. Angered by his own turmoil, he grabs his meal and goes to sit with others from his dorm.

Stupid human. How dare you be so haughty and ungrateful? He was just protecting you from....from, what exactly? It's not like you going out with Ace would impact him in any way. It's not like you were in danger or upset with his advances. If anything. he was doing a good job at keeping your relationship professional for the sake of his liege!

Go ahead and date that childish hooligan for all he cares! Sebek won't be there to protect you when you're lost, or lend you a scarf on cold winter days. Ace can be the one to call you before bed every night, and keep your yearbook photo on his desk. Possibly keep his favorite candid photo as a bookmark for his diary, not that Sebek would know anyone that keeps a journal. He can have your birthday written in his calendar with a heart drawn around it, and have your picture in his wristwatch. He can set alarms to know when your classes end and walk you home. He can worry when you're sick and listen to your obnoxious prying....he can receive all your affections, and have your loyalty. Listen to your silly ramblings and receive those random 'i just thought of you' presents that Sebek always has a dilemma over what their purpose serves

You can be Ace's headache, and Sebek's heart will be lighter for it. These attachments he's formed were a lapse in judgement and will never be allowed again.

...

Sebek asks his lord for permission to court you. The next morning Malleus wakes to find the devotee bowed outside his bedroom, forehead attached to the floor and hands laid flat on the ground in reverence. Sebek proceeds to begin a long rant about how he's succumbed to his inner demons, and that he has sinned for letting another in his heart - Malleus cuts him off, happy to see love blossoming and interested to watch it all play out. He tells Sebek to take good care of you, before leaving. Meanwhile Sebek is sobbing at his lord's blessing

Once he's gathered himself, Sebek runs to your dorm and pounds on the door with fervor despite the early hour

Grim shakes you out of sleep, grumbling something about an 'annoying bastard' at the door before flopping back in bed. He shoves two pillows over his ears and tells you to fix the problem. That's when you hear the thumping, it's relentless and somehow sours your mood beyond what you thought possible. Mornings were not meant to exist on the weekend. So with an irritated groan, you slip on a robe over your pajamas and answer the door. A fist pauses in the air, moments from striking you. Sebek freezes momentarily, his body going ridged before coughing into his fist. A light blush dusts his cheeks.

“G-good morning, human. I apologize if I've disturbed your sleep, but I have an important announcement that cannot wait any longer" Sebeck studders, focusing on the door pane instead of your disheveled morning appearance.

“Alright" you sigh, resigning yourself to his whims, "what is it?"

Sebeck bows at the waist. "I am in love with you. Please accept my affections."

And so the motions continued on. A most unconventional pairing - possibly the hottest topic of the school year, in the words of Cater Diamond - was formed. Sebek was cautious of Ace at first, their previous spats leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. When he found out the truth, he was both appalled and grateful. So much that he scorned all his friends for weeks on end for pulling a stunt like that - but also thanking them. He apologizes for calling Ace a delinquent, and his heart changes a bit in response to their 'unique' display of care. Their intentions were good, and in the end it worked out. So he can pardon the indiscretion.

Life goes on until your relationship forms an 'awkward situationship'. The first time is brief. As it is with most cases of young love, the binding force that ties you to them crumbles. On earth it is highschool. In Twisted Wonderland it is NRC. Sebek knows where he's going - to serve the Draconias . The grey area is what you plan to do...because as much as his affections have grown, Sebek isn't willing to give up his dreams for you.

He's astonished when you decide to follow him to Briar Valley. He doesn't even have to breech the topic - arrangements were already being made without his input. You wouldn't be staying at the palace against his Lord's wishes. Instead a small cottage was built at a safe distance from the main city. Close enough for you to visit the castle, and far enough for you to feel comfortable and not out of place.

Seeing you taking his wants into consideration alters Sebek's perception of your relationship. You truly were lovers, and not a passing 'hormonal induced fling'. You loved him, and it's here when he truly begins to consider a forever. It was like the time when he first called your name, no longer calling you by 'prefect' or 'human'. He had done it many times in private, yet doing so to your face altered his brain chemistry. He loved the way your name rolled off his tongue, and the way your attention became his at the call.

Which leads us to the third and final major block-aid. Years have passed, and Sebek's well grown as an established knight for the Draconia family. He works alongside Silver, and many other comrades in arms. Everything is exactly as he dreamed. Malleus has become a beloved, strong king. Sebek is respected, and you are thriving as well. He didn't have much faith in your ability to last alone - it's not that he doubts your abilities, but he did doubt his people. When you first moved to Briar Valley Sebek was well aware that there were many like his past self - fae with a hatred for humans. He worried you would struggle to fit in.

Yet you surprised him. The tensions did exist against your kind, but you managed to card a space for yourself in Briar Valley with ease. You didn't even work in the palace, instead choosing to work towards becoming a children's teacher and work towards helping future generations of fae feel comfortable around humans.

His family adored you - with his mother in particular fawning over how Sebek fell down the same pipeline she did. His father offers you both advice on being an interspecies couple - and Sebek actually found himself listening.

Huh. Character growth. Is this what it's like to mature?

All is perfect, yet not. Sebek is forced to confront this when news travels that a human was attacked on their way to the palace. The dread that coursed through his veins was unlike anything Sebek's felt in his entire life. Under Malleus' rule, humans were slowly becoming more prevalent in Briar Valley. They hadn't mentioned your name specifically, but he jumped the gun.

Against his better judgement, Sebek abandons his post and rushed to the city's clinic. The injured human wasn't you, thank the seven, but the dread lingered. So he ran to the school you taught at and practically barged into your classroom. Luckily it was empty as the day was near end. Sebek hadn't known that yet still behaved recklessly.

He rushed to your side, talking faster than your brain could keep up with while checking over your body. He flipped topics like a teen trying to pick a college major - scolding you for worrying him, blubbering gibberish about how you'd no longer be allowed to walk alone, and myriad of other things.

Sebek was so shook, that he completely forgot about his knightly station. Malleus didn't punish him for abandoning his post. Not like it mattered, considering Sebek was already doing ample damage on his own. The realization hit him like a stone punch to the gut - there was a threat to his liege, and instead of focusing on apprehending the criminal he chose to find you.

Malleus' power or his dismissal of the matter meant little in the overall picture. Sebek failed. He's ashamed beyond belief.

and yet, he can't help but wonder what ight have been. What if you were the one attacked and he chose to stay? He would have failed you in that scenario.

He's surprised to find that the prospect his failure hurts just as much - if not more. His lord is powerful, and there are many to serve him. Your last moments could have been spent in a cold medical bed, surrounded by strangers. Fading away and taking Sebek's dreams with you.

............

Ah. Since when had that word become plural? His dream was always to serve Lord Malleus. Now there are more - he wants a family, and he wants to go to that play you were organizing with the valley's children next weekend. He wants to become a greater knight to protect the city that houses all the people he cares about. Again, plural. Lilia, Silver, his siblings and parents, all the human and fae who are loyal subjects to his most revered. You, and your decedents to come.

It's frightening. How valuable one's life can become. His always belonged to the Draconia bloodline to do with at they pleased - now Sebek's in pieces. Is he truly worthy of being a knight if he cannot give his whole heart?

He doesn't blame you for this. In his youth Sebek might have tossed your relationship aside in a heartbeat - that, or he might've demanded Malleus dismiss him and send him to repent in exile or whatever. Sebek has a problem with embellishing with dramatics.

BUT... he's more mature now. Mature enough to realize that maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.

So, he asks Lilia for advice. At this time the general merely lazes around the castle like a bat on the wall - acting as an advisor and observer. Surely he'd know what to do.

"There is nothing wrong with sharing a heart amongst many. If anything, the toughest decisions make us stronger. The more you have to lose, the stronger you will become to protect"

Preach it grandpappy. Lilia wants to see his grandkids so stop the slow burn already.

It's deja vu because Sebek wants to propose as quick as possible. Just like when he confessed, the man nearly runs to your home on impulse. You can thank Lilia for your proposal not taking place at 3am with your door being broke in two (Sebek is much stronger than he was in his teens, and sometimes miscalculates his strength).

Instead, Sebek finds himself anxiously clutching a ring in his pocket the following week. It was the night of a school play you were hosting - one he was looking forward to since you were so proud in your work. Ergo, Sebek felt pride as well by default.

How unfortunate that he can't focus on the show. With his mind reeling so much, it's taking all he has to sit quietly in the audience. His eyes follow your movements as you direct the kids, and for a brief moment you smile at him from the stage.

Zap. Alright. Don't clutch metal when you're a living thunderbolt. Duly noted. If anything the jolt of pain brings him back to reality.

When the play ends, and all the children have gone home with their families, he finds you back stage sweeping confetti. His plan was to congratulate you, and take you to a nice restaurant where he could do this properly.

Except he can't wait. When you turn around from putting the broom away, he's already taken a knee and holding the ring out. Those diligent gold iris' not pulling away for one moment, as he holds the ring out between two fingers and his other hand placed over his heart as if taking an oath.

"Before you say anything - You have sacrificed time and time again for my happiness - my efforts are insignificant in comparison. I have taken your patience for granted like a spoiled juvenile. There was a time when I found this kindness of yours unnecessary. I thought it a distraction - a test of my strength to fulfill my destiny. I see now that I was foolish”

Sebek pauses, grinding his teeth together in regret and anguish.

“I had not known fear until you. I have more to lose now than ever before. Last week I abandoned my post - my purpose- In that moment, all I could think about was if you’d been attacked, then my life would be over. You make me lose all sense of logic and reason…so I demand that you take responsibility and marry me!”

{A gold band with an obsidian base. Gold and silver flakes are sealed atop the obsidian plate using resin. Very practical, yet charming nonetheless. Humans typically wear matching bands, yes? Sebek sees no purpose in getting separate designs since the point is to show proof of partnership. He needs a practical shape that will not interfere with combat, yet also wants it to be an aesthetic choice. Sebek could care less about looks, but if he’s going to give you a ring then it will be the best possible option to match to your worth}

Silver is beautiful like still ocean waters. He's breathtaking - literally and figuratively. With the beauty of a fairytale prince, personality of a wise knight, and deadliness of the deep sea. It's easy to be sucked in when Silver seemingly has no flaws. So easy that at one point there were rumors of him being a living doll, created by the fae to be a perfect solider.

These perceptions all rely on his outward appearance: the knight in shining armor. Albeit so, being so perfect almost makes him unnoticeable. Compared to his rowdy peers with quirks and notable personalities - Silver truly is a doll. Like the complacent child praised for being more mature than their siblings. He is as easily forgotten as he is admired.

Some would say that this is a flaw in itself - because no one is naturally perfect. No one is so complacent and calm at birth. It's simply a desirable flaw. One that hurts him, yet has ben praised by others.

Silver is strong. Silver is diligent. Silver is beautiful. Silver is breathtaking and yet not the showstopper - like gold. Gold brings warmth while silver is cold. Imperfections in gold give it character, and can be seen as art. Imperfections in silver are seen as unsightly scratches.

Silver knows this, yet doesn't want to be gold. He doesn't deserve to be gold.

Silver doesn't deserve anything. He has already taken so much simply by living. He has a world to be grateful for, and not enough time to repay his debts.

He is content being Silver - if he could then he'd be copper. Lesser. Yet he is Silver, a reminder of the blood he carries.

He will remain unremarkable yet dedicated. He will dedicate everything to his family and friends - do whatever he can to break free of his sleeping curse and help others. He will give until he cannot give anymore. Then he will give more, to repay all he has received.

....For as much as he is content with this life, Silver still envies gold.

You are beautiful like a new dawn. Ushering in each day with a vibrant display that commands attention. People instinctively admire you despite the risk of hurting their eyes. You heal the world naturally, and help others simply by existing. People take you for granted, because inevitably the moon will rise, and the cold will inevitably return.

You were bathed in golden light. This Silver noticed the moment he laid eyes on you. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Silver envies gold.

........

You envy Silver. His calm, his family, his dedication despite being limited by his crippling drowsiness. Out of the students from Diasomnia, he was the one you lingered towards more often than not. The freshmen revered him for his skills, and he was a true gentle soul. You at first couldn't believe that he was Lilia's son - how did such a kind boy come from a rambunctious tease? Revelations of his past brought much to light, and now you couldn't think of him being anyone else.

Silver was loved like the first snowfall. He had a family that loved him dearly, no matter how short his time with them would be. He was raised to bring happiness to others, and protect their hearts using his demure temperament.

Silver was modest, and silver glistened when you'd expect him to the least. As the wind caressed his hair during an afternoon siesta, or sparks lit in his eyes while swinging his sword. How the horses nuzzle his side after equestrian practice, showing full trust and affection. Even in the sweat dripping from his brow, shining as he easily finishes a set of push ups.

Yet nothing struck your heart more than the melancholy he'd emit when no one was looking. How quickly he'd fade into the background, only popping in when necessary or if someone gave him note. In these moments Silver gleamed brilliantly, yet a shadow put out his shine.

You thought the melancholy inviting. It felt so natural, so real. Except you believed it balanced dangerously between despair and serene. The larger question being which side would he evidently fall towards.

.........

Silver admires gold.

He couldn't stop the pull. He just couldn't. Not with how you seemingly watch him when no one else does. Who wouldn't feel special? With the way you take note of things he normally wouldn't think of, and recklessly delve into helping others with no regard for yourself. Whether you desire the trouble is beyond him - the matter is that you see every issue through. There isn't a soul who doesn't know of the ramshackle prefect.

Perhaps this is his torment to endure. To get a taste for what he could have been, and willingly be tied to it.

Silver stares into a vanity mirror, his expression neutral despite the growing emotions inside. A slightly tattered sheet is tied around his neck like a bib, covering his front and part of his back. A shiver runs down his spine as you comb through his hair, deftly trimming the edges with a pair of kitchen scissors with the precision of a professional. A shiver runs down his spine every time your fingers linger against his scalp, either from tucking stray strands or combing through layers with your fingertips.

Your expression is stern, eyes intensely focused as you cut around his ear, afraid to nick him in the process. He finds the expression adorable yet bites his tongue. Silver couldn't think those thoughts. Not when you offered to do this out of the kindness of your heart.

Nonetheless, his heart thrums. If it were possible he'd think the organ about to pop out at any moment.

"Finished!" you smile in satisfaction and tussle Silver's soft locks for good measure. In one fell swoop, you undo the knot around his neck and pull the makeshift apron off of him. Silver nods, a slight smile teasing the edge of his lips. He stands from the chair and steps over any hair on the floor, reaching for the broom to clean before you could think to. "Thank you. I no longer need to schedule with a barber. This will save much time," In truth he had no intentions for a haircut. You were the one to notice how his bangs hindered his vision, and offered to help. Silver couldn't bring himself to deny your kindness. "You really like it? Hehe. Y'know, maybe I should start a shop on campus? I only started doing this since there aren't any affordable salons....maybe with it I can finally afford to fix the guest room!" you cheer and prattle on about all the different possibilities. Occasionally you'll ask for Silver's input, or even give an off hand compliment about how he was the perfect 'test subject'. Your company is intoxicating, he realizes. Talking with you is as easy as drinking water. Before Silver realizes, night has fallen and you've fallen asleep on the couch. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself wandering the Ramshackle door. He compulsively cleans up the mess you'd both left behind during his visit, doing the dishes from dinner and rearranging things here and there. As he does so, Silver notes all the little improvements around the dorm. It feels more like a home than a school building. Then again you do live alone. He wonders how often you host visitors, and if you unknowingly ensnared them just as you've done to him. He covers your shoulders with a blanket and steps outside under the moonlight.

It’s cold.

...............

You wake up the following day to find all the windows shut, your living room clean, and a warm blanket covering your shoulders. Your eyes peer around for silver, yet turn up empty.

Of course. Silver has a dorm to return to and people that would miss him if he returned late.

Shuffling around the silent dorm, the rickey old floorboards creek underneath your weight. In manufactured motions, you brew a cup of tea and pour it into the only well-used cup from the cabinet.

As your cup brews, you sit at the table with the blanket still clutched tight over your shoulders.

The tea goes cold, yet you are warm.

................

Silver loves gold.

but silver and gold don't mix. The question always is: silver or gold? When deciding a piece of jewelry to match your skin tone, people will ask 'silver or gold'? The metals are not meant to mix because they clash. It's an outfit catastrophe.

Yet, Silver cannot help but wonder. As he lays with his head in your lap and the sun and silence coaxing him to slumber - what if an outfit existed to compliment both silver and gold?

"Silver..are you sleeping again?" you tap his cheek with one hand, and his eyes open instinctively. Despite his drowsiness he will always look for you. Yet right now he's never regretted the magnetic pull more. With the sun casting a golden overcast, you peer down at him from above with tender eyes typically reserved for one's child. Your glow is breathtaking, and he cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach that he is unworthy. With such gentle hands combing across his scalp and eyes that look upon him so tenderly - he is afraid to steal your warmth. And yet… "You are beautiful," Silver lets it slip, his hand reaching to brush against your jaw as if under a spell. He feels unnervingly calm. Not in his usual way, where he is constantly observing and playing a game of mental chess. This is a true calm, and he knows now that this is a point of no return.

Silver is beautiful like a still ocean. You are beautiful like the rising sun. When combined, a perfect image is formed just waiting for an artist to stumble upon it.

Against his wishes, the world has granted the child of dawn another gift. The gift of true love. 'True love's kiss will break the curse' and while it is childish to believe so in this case, Silver does so wholeheartedly.

When with you, the days pass like minutes. He wants nothing more than to forgo need for sleep, if only to work harder towards becoming a man worthy.

Silver envies gold for it's effortless demand for love, yet he no longer wants to be gold. He no longer wishes he were born copper.

Gold loves silver, so Silver he will be.

And with time, both Silver and Gold will be ground to dust regardless.

He thinks of this on a winter evening while holding a ring up into the moonlight. It's cold outside, yet he doesn't mind. The chill atop his nose does nothing but tinge it a lovely rosy color.

He looks through the windowpane into a home masquerading as a school building. His reflection is familiar yet changing rapidly in comparison to his family. The years have aged him, yet not by much. Silver is stronger, his soft jaw a bit sharper. His bangs have grown long again, it would soon be time for a cut. Perhaps he'd enlist a 'barber' after relocating back to the castle in briar valley.

Inside you sit at the couch, sipping from a well-used mug with Grim on your lap and watching cartoons. Silver's bag rests on the armchair, unzipped with nightly necessities spilling out the side. A slightly newer baby blue mug sits on the coffee table, with steam evaporating into the air as it waits to be used.

Silver smiles, walking towards the door and walking inside. Heat warms his cheeks and he is calm.

"I know I am unworthy of you, the thought plagues me to this very moment. Yet I cannot help but love you - like wishing on a star yet knowing deep in the depths of your heart that miracles are made not granted. I've received many, so I would know. My father gifted me life through love - and with you I understand how it is possible. I cannot imagine life without you. I promise this, I will cherish you and protect you for as long as you allow it. Would you marry me?"

Months later a ceremony is held in a secluded forest, in the yard of a cottage where a child first learned love. As an adult, he joins his most precious in matrimony, offering his sword to be sworn faithful.

You are beautiful like the first breech of daylight - and for once, Silver is happy to be a man of dawn.

Silver and gold.

Silver and gold.

Everyone wishes for silver and gold.

How do you measure it's worth?

Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.

{A ring forged from a silver band, gold leaf embellishments, and a moss agate core. Enough said.}

[stevebabey]

Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

[beenbaanbuun]

pussy drunk w/ mingi

back on my munch!mingi shit… send help

——————————————————————————

no one is as insane about pussy drunk mingi as i am… swear to god mingi has just been on my mind all day and i need to get my thoughts off my chest.

like i fully believe that this man always goes into it believing he’s going to be strong. pull one, maybe two orgasms out of you with his mouth before moving on and sticking his cock in you. he’s not going to get carried away… not this time!

but then he actually gets in between your legs and he can see your pretty pussy squeezing around nothing, pushing your clear juices out of you. he watches the way they dribble down your slit, slicking up your pussy and the inside of your thighs, and this man just groans; he knows he’s already lost the battle.

he dives in, starting off with soft kisses and tiny little kitten licks to your clit, but his head is already hazy, and with the best will in the world, this man already knows he’s fucked. all it takes is for the first moan to slip from your lips and he’s thinking, fuck it. maybe next time he’ll be stronger. maybe next time he’ll be able to stop the way his big hands land on your hips as he licks a wide stripe up your slit. maybe next time he’ll be able to resist slipping into the desperate state of mind he always does when your pussy is in his mouth.

he’s messy with it after that. absolutely nothing is calculated, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. it absolutely does, from the way he sloppily makes out with your folds to the way he probes your hole with his tongue. he clearly knows how to please you, even if the only thing on his mind right now is his own pleasure. maybe it’s just his passion, or maybe he’s just naturally gifted.

and sometimes, he’ll even manhandle you and push you into your front. no particular reason, but he likes having something to ground him and you being face down, ass up gives his hands perfect access to your ass cheeks. his huge hands are just cupping them, massaging and squeezing and smacking as he literally devours you. sometimes he’ll dig his nails in to the soft flesh, adding just the perfect amount of pain to make you tense up and squeeze out even more of your juices for mingi to slurp up.

not that he has a preference whether you’re on your front or your back; either way, you know that he’s having the time of his life with his face deep in your pussy. you can tell by the sounds he makes. obscene slurping sounds fill the room, punctuated by a mixture of deep groans and out-of-character high pitched moans. your own pretty whines can barely be heard over mingi’s desperate cries, but you don’t care; the fact that mingi is audibly enjoying it just as much as you only adds to your pleasure.

speaking of pleasure, mingi gets his from rutting desperately against the mattress like a bitch in heat. he’s rock hard from the moment he started, but he can’t bear to pull his mouth away for long enough to slip his dick inside of you, so the bed sheets will have to do. he’s always quick to cum, and even quicker to get hard again. the poor boy is always practically crying from overstimulating himself by the time he’s finished with your pussy; it’s not his fault you make him so painfully stiff.

but it’s not just himself he seems intent on overstimulating; he always pushes you to your very limits too. it’s never intentional, and it’s always just him getting lost in the moment and filled up with pathetic desperation for just more but it’s safe to say he won’t be stopping until you’re desperately pushing him away. you’ll be whining and kicking your feet and desperately pushing at his head, and all of a sudden he’ll snap out of his hunger and slip back into reality, sheepishly pulling away as if he hadn’t been behaving like a starving man seconds prior.

“too much?” he always asks as he pulls away. he always prays that you never say ‘yes’, and to this day you haven’t. it’s a good thing; he never wants to push you too far, even though he could quite happily sit between your thighs for days if you let him. he’s happy to just lie by your side with you slowly dropping to sleep in his arms for now, though. you need a rest, and now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure his jaw does too. even smiling aches now, but he can’t help himself as he watches you tuck yourself into his chest, soft snores leaving your lips.

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a mother-like reader, who takes care of them

genre: headcanons, gn! reader, fluffiest of fluff, angst of you squint but nothing too sad

requested: yes, tysm! (reqs are still open for anyone who wants to request♡)

feat: sanji, zoro

a/n: hope you like it♡ (if you don't, go suck something, doesn't matter what just go suck something)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sanji

Sanji absolutely adores the way you take care of the other members. and he's hands down the quickest and boldest in terms of expressing his admiration for you.

since he's proficient in the kitchen and home-cooked (...ship-cooked?) meals are his way of showcasing his care for the crew, you two are a sort of a duo when it comes to Strawhat tlc.

he's such a sucker for your attention, and cherishes every one your tender touches. problem is, he rarely ever gets physically hurt, so he's never really experienced getting patched up by you.

he's even gone as far as to debate whether or not he should "accidentally" cut himself in the kitchen and ask you to help him, but he knows you would never believe for a second, you just know him too well.

he does feel a little jealousy when you baby Luffy, or let Usopp cling to you like a koala every time he's scared, but he understands why you don't do those things with him, he just doesn't require that specific kind of attention.

but one night, while he's staring out at the ocean with a cigarette in hand, you stand beside him with your hands on the railing, but you don't say a word.

he feels the need to get defensive, to convince you that he's okay with a flirty comment and a forced laugh, but you give him a pointed look.

you know he's not okay, you know that he's thinking about something that won't allow him to close his eyes and sleep, and somehow, you know that he needs someone to be there. not to talk, not to listen, but just to be there for him.

the night ends with him in your room, in your bed, in your arms finally being able to experience peaceful sleep.

and as he lays there (he's now completely in love with you btw), he's no longer jealous of any of his crewmates, because this is your special way of taking care of him, and he couldn't ask for more.

Zoro

oh, Zoro absolutely despises whenever you try to care for or coddle him in any way.

it's nothing against you specifically, it's just his rather stupid way of thinking. in his mind, the only people that need the kind of care that you try to give are the sickly, the old, or the weak.

he never gets sick enough to be out of commission, he isn't old by any means, and you know both of those things. so, he can only deduce that you believe that he's weak. and he hates that. which means he hates being around you.

the others try to tell him otherwise, but he refuses to hear them out. he brushes you off with a scowl when you try to tend to any of his injuries, or when he wakes up and finds himself in a different position that's better for his back or his neck than the one he originally slept in.

one day, he falls asleep on a random spot of the ship, and he wakes up a few hours later. but, somethings a little odd this time around. his neck is stiff as a board, and he woke up in the exact same position he fell asleep in.

he doesn't think anything of it, maybe you forgot to move him, or just didn't see him. but this goes on for about a week, you don't move him while he sleeps poorly, you don't ask to patch him up, and even though this is what he'd wanted for so long, he feels shitty about it.

even though he would rather fight an army of soldiers with a butter knife than admit it, a small, very very small part of him, missed your attentiveness.

it was a far cry from the treatment that he had ever recieved from anyone else, and you never let his lack of enthusiasm deter you. well, until now that is.

he felt like he was going insane, just why did his days feel incomplete without your soft touch? the thought ran through his mind as he walked to your room with his hand clutching his side.

he opened the door slowly, stepping inside a little awkwardly. you raised your brow in questioning, to which he only uncovered his wound, showing you how bloody his hand had become from it.

you went to work that instant, caring for his wound with only a softness that you could manage, that he had missed. you led him to your bed, laying him down and asking that he sleeps as much as he needs to heal quickly, and to ask you if he needed anything.

he went to bed (trying to ignore the slight increase in his heartbeat at the fact that he was in your bed, that you were accepting with open arms despite his rejection of tour previous efforts) with the corners of mouth upright, making a mental promise to never, ever refuse help from you.

[laenordeservedbetter]

Thieves & Prophecies

Words: 2.6k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Poseidon)

Synopsis: When your friends accuse Clarisse of stealing the lightning bolt, you make a choice that dooms Olympus.

Warnings: PJO EPISODE VI SPOILERS, r has anger issues, r isn't too fond of the gods, ooc!clarisse, Luke. [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: People say you should write to get over writer's block, so here's another Clarisse x reader. The new episode had me stressing out for Clarisse and she wasn't even there. At least we got good Percabeth scenes.

masterlist || previous work

---

You’re leaning against a wooden crate while Grover proceeds to explain why Clarisse is the lightning thief. The pounding of your heart was the only thing you made yourself hear, tuning out of the conversation. You couldn’t believe it. You refuse to believe it. Clarisse wouldn’t do something like that. Something’s wrong. They are wrong.

“Y/n?” Percy stands in front of you, looking apologetic. You meet his gaze, realizing that they must have finished talking. You don’t say anything, figuring that your conflicting emotions are visible to them. “I’m sorry about Clarisse. I know that you think she’s not capable of stealing the lightning bolt, but all signs lead to her.”

The glare that you send Percy makes him flinch. “She didn’t do it.” You claim. Percy opens his mouth to protest, but you weren’t done talking. “I know she didn’t. I’m sure of it.” You say the words with such conviction that Percy can’t help but feel bad for you. You scowl upon seeing his sympathetic look, shaking your head. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Y/n…” Grover interjects, moving to stand beside Percy. “I know that this is hard to hear since Clarisse is your—” Grover cut himself off, “But there’s no other half-blood Ares could possibly want to protect except his favorite daughter.” He says softly, trying to reason with you.

You were far past reason, however. Not when Clarisse is involved. You walk a few steps closer to them, your jaw clenching. They both take a step back, their backs hitting a combination of crates and cages. They weren’t used to seeing you like this. They’ve watched you protect them from monsters, but they haven’t experienced being on the receiving end of your wrath. It was not a good feeling.

“Say one more word about Clarisse being the lightning thief and I will make sure none of us get to the underworld in time for the solstice.”

Grover and Percy merely nodded, too afraid to argue.

You retreated to the corner furthest away from them; feeling more exhausted than you had been since the quest began. A part of you wanted to ensure that Percy completes his quest and that he clears his and your father’s name, another part wants nothing more than to protect Clarisse, but the emotion that overpowers both is your anger.

How could they all just sit there and come to that conclusion without thinking it through? Their accusation didn’t even have that much of a backbone to support it with. You were mad at yourself for not being able to convince them otherwise. You were mad at Ares for taking Grover’s bait and for not ratting out the real thief, which you probably shouldn’t say out loud. Though, at this point, you didn’t care because tomorrow morning, Percy and Annabeth were going to send an Iris Message to camp and there will be nothing you can do to stop Chiron, Mr. D, and the rest of the demigods from going after Clarisse. You needed to act and you needed to act fast.

---

As soon as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover fell asleep, you stood up and silently moved to the truck’s doors. Percy was leaning against one of the cages, his eyes peacefully shut. Sometimes, you forget that he’s still a kid. He should be enjoying his childhood, not going off fighting monsters. But unfortunately, that’s just the way life goes when you’re a half-blood, being in constant danger. Yet another reason to be mad at the gods. You shake your head, trying to ignore the pang of guilt when you think about leaving your brother. If there had been another way, you would have taken it.

You just hope Percy forgives you when all of this is over.

…Or if he survives the solstice.

You stop in your tracks, wondering if what you’re about to do is the right decision to make when Annabeth starts to stir.

It was now or never.

You continue making your way to the door, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

The bag that Ares gave.

There was something about it that drew you in. You know you shouldn’t, but you grab the bag, opening the top zipper. There was cash, clothes, and golden drachmas, exactly what the god of war said. You had no need for cash or clothes, so you take those out. You scoop a few drachmas and place the rest on the floor, putting the coins inside the bag since it would be handier than putting it in your pockets. You sling the bag over your shoulder and bolt for the doors, the metal making a loud bang the moment you force it open. Before either one of the trio could go after you, you were already a few miles ahead – or behind, depending on which direction you’re looking from – of them.

You don’t stop running until you reach a coast. You wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep going until your feet touch the water. Sighing in relief, you close your eyes, allowing the water to give you strength. The wind was chilly tonight, darkness looming above you. The possibility of war was getting closer yet here you were, having just abandoned your brother for Clarisse.

You didn’t know what you were going to do when you reached camp. Would you try convincing Chiron that Clarisse wasn’t the culprit? Would you run away with your girlfriend? Or would you take the blame despite not having the lightning bolt yourself?

You hear a whine before you, prompting you to open your eyes. A creature with the head and front legs of a horse but with the tail of a fish appeared in front of you, tilting its head a little. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “Did my dad send you?” You asked.

Yes, my lady.

Your brows scrunch even more (if that was possible) at the term. Your hand reaches out to pet the hippocampus, the creature leaning into your touch. You were still surprised that your father, Poseidon, decided to help you. He did listen to your prayers most of the time, but you thought that he wasn’t your biggest fan at the moment, seeing how you were about to go to camp and possibly ruin his reputation. You guess you were wrong. A small smile graced its way onto your face as you mumble, “Thank you, father.” You get on the hippocampus, the creature making sure you were properly seated before it started moving.

---

The sun had completely risen by the time you reached camp. Being on a hippocampus was by far the best mode of transportation, in your opinion. You got good sleep this time. You get off of Summer (you learned that that was her name when you were trying to make conversation), your feet landing on the shore.

“Thank you, Summer. I promise I’ll give you a snack when I see you again.” You promise, smiling softly.

Summer made a noise of approval before diving back into the water.

You look towards the woods, feeling like something was about to go wrong. “You can’t back down now.” You mumble to yourself. Clarisse needed your help. This is the reason why you came back to camp. You will your feet to move, one foot in front of the other.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

---

Sneaking into camp was easy. Getting past the campers was the hard part. If they saw you, they would bombard you with questions. You can already sense the kind of questions they’d ask, the things they would say. You grit your teeth in annoyance. Everyone seemed to be doing something. Though, the number of campers in the archery practice range and the dining pavilion were smaller compared to the last time you were here. Odd. You shake your head, trudging forward, trying to look for Clarisse.

“You stupid moron! I told you. I didn’t steal the lightning bolt!”

Ah, there she was.

Your heart flutters upon hearing her voice. There was no mistaking that that was her.

You see Luke get out of the armory. You could make out a figure behind him, a girl tied against one of the tables. Your expression hardens as you stare at the Hermes cabin councilor. Before he could meet your gaze, you hide behind one of the cabins.

Anger coursed through you again. Your fists clenched, leaning your head against the structure of the Zeus cabin. You wait for a minute, then another, then another, before you feel your anger subsiding. You use the back part of the cabins in order to get to the armory, rushing past groups of campers before they could spot you.

The armory was unguarded, which was a bad decision on Luke’s part. Like seriously? The armory is the best choice you can come up with to lock up the alleged thief in? There are dangerous weapons in there. If they had caught the real thief and locked them there, it would have been a bloody day. You scowl at their incompetence, but your expression morphs into one of worry when you open the door and see Clarisse.

She glances towards you, squinting her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” You march towards her and settle yourself in front of her. Her hands were tied. “Gods, what have they done to you?” You mutter, grabbing a dagger from the table above her and using it to cut the rope.

“They’re accusing me of stealing the lightning bolt, which is stupid because I didn’t do it. This must be Percy’s doing.” Clarisse grumbles, an apologetic look crossing her face after she says the last sentence. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but…”

“They’re wrong. I know.” You nod reassuringly. Not a second after you finish cutting the rope, Clarisse surges forward to pull you into an embrace. You laugh in surprise, pulling her closer, “Woah, there. Hi.” You close your eyes, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to have her near you again. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your hand on her hair. “I missed you.” You say.

“I missed you too.” Clarisse replies before reluctantly pulling away. She places both of her hands on your face, as if memorizing it all over again. Her brows were scrunched as she looks at a scar that wasn’t there before you left and you found yourself wanting to ease her worries.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

She scowls. “You got hurt.”

“I’m okay now.” You insist. Before she asks follow-up questions, you try to state why you were here in the first place. “I tried to convince Percy, Grover, and Annabeth that you didn’t steal the lightning bolt, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I jumped out of the truck when they were sleeping. I got a few drachmas in case of emergencies. Then, I went to a beach, where a hippocampus appeared and brought me here. And now I’m realizing I didn’t think too far ahead because I don’t know what to do now. If I can’t convince Mr. D or Chiron that you’re innocent, I… We can run away. Yes, that we can do.”

“You did all of that for me?” Clarisse had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked like she wanted to kiss you, yell at you, and cry all at once.

Your brows furrow. “Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.”

“That was really stupid.” She says.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized the quest.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve experienced your father’s wrath.”

“I know.” A small laugh escapes you.

Clarisse shakes her head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes.

“Gods, I love you.” Clarisse mumbles.

You sport a teasing grin, “Aww, you do?”

“Shut up.” She punches your shoulder playfully.

“Ouch!”

“What are you doing?”

Your playful banter came to an end when you hear Luke enter the front door, two of the kids from the Athena cabin standing behind him. You turn, stepping forward to stand in front of Clarisse. You’ve been in similar positions in the past, except she was the one protecting you. Now, it was time to return the favor.

Both Athena kids step forward on Luke’s signal, dragging both you and Clarisse outside, where there was a cluster of campers watching you.

Great, a show. Just what you needed.

“What were you doing with the lightning thief?” Luke questions.

It took a shake of Clarisse’s head to stop you from attacking him. You settled for “accidentally” stepping on his toes instead. “Clarisse is not the lightning thief.” You state. Around you, there stood at least two dozen campers. You spot Chiron and Mr. D amidst the campers and your eyes light up. “You don’t even have proof that she stole the lightning bolt, so how can you be so sure that it’s her?”

Luke ignores your question entirely. “Just give up, Y/n. Stop protecting her. You know that she stole it. We all do.”

“She didn’t steal it!” You yell, meeting Luke’s eyes. It felt like having a staring contest with a statue.

“Yeah, well, how do you know?!” His voice raises to match yours, his cold gaze almost scaring you. Almost.

You fall silent, not having a proper answer to that. Truth was, you didn’t. You could just feel it. But making choices based on feelings isn’t a good enough reason for anyone in this camp. You turn towards Chiron for help, but he doesn’t say anything. The entirety of the Ares cabin is quiet as well. That’s when it occurs to you that if they don’t speak up, there is a zero percent chance that anyone else will.

Luke appears smug, as if he had proved his point. “Exa—”

“Because I did it.”

You shock even yourself at your words, but you do nothing to take them back. You weren’t able to see any other option left. You were surrounded. If you’d try to escape with Clarisse, you weren’t making it out of camp alive. This was your last resort.

“What?” Clarisse says beside you, her voice barely above a whisper. You force yourself not to look at her. You wouldn’t be able to stand the look of betrayal on her face. You’d rather have her hating you than have her punished for something she didn’t do.

Luke scoffs, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

You don’t break eye contact with Luke as you say the words, ignoring Clarisse’s screams of protest.

For once, Luke was taken aback. He keeps shaking his head, “No, you’re lying. Just give up already. You can’t protect her anymore.”

“I stole the lightning bolt.” You say, louder this time around.

“Miss L/n, that is a serious admission.” Chiron says, his tone grave. You could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Are you sure you stole the lightning bolt?”

“She’s bluffing.” Luke announces, but he sounds unsure.

Your bag grows heavier, as if someone placed a boulder inside it while you were talking to Luke. It was too much to carry. Naturally, you removed the bag from your shoulder, setting it down on the grass. You open the backpack’s zipper, your breath hitching when you see the thing that has been weighing it down. You pull it out of the bag, hearing gasps and words of alarm from the campers.

The bolt crackled in your hand, the color mesmerizing you. You tilt your head with a sly grin, your eyes fixed on Luke.

“Do you believe me now?”

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

thinking of best friend eddie accidentally finding your sex toys and it turns him on so much to think of you using them that he can’t help but jack off to them and you catch him and make him use them on himself 😃

Listen listen LISTEN LINDA!!!

Eddie munson x fem!reader

This took on a life of its own. I'm so sorry.

18+ minors dni

It started off casually of him just rummaging through your thing. You're both so comfortable with one another and have known each other for a long time. You two don't feel the need to ask for permission to touch or even go through eachothers belongings.

You've seen his porn hell on late nights when you're both drunk. You even watch it together during those times. Usually, some light touches are involved and a steamy makeout session, but it's never really gone past that. You've seen him naked, and he's seen you naked plenty of times.

There isn't a part of you he hasn't seen, and the same goes for him. You know it should be awkward, and best friends shouldn't do this kind of stuff, but with him, it always felt right. He always knew what to say and made you feel completely safe with him.

So it's no surprise that when you're busy in the shower, he got bored and decided to snoop around a bit. Usually, he'd read your diary or rummage through your panty drawer just because he can. He wasn't a total perv, but he just liked looking at them. Imagining what you would look like wearing them. The way they would hug your ass and hips tight.

He went over to your nightstand, looking for the little book that held all of your secrets no one else knew but him. He dug in and noticed a little something in the far back of the drawer. Tucked away under some papers, but definitely not discreetly is a little naughty pink toy.

Eddies eyes immediately bugged out of his skull he knew you weren't a virgin. But the thought of you fucking yourself only entered his mind late at night. His cock grows hard just at the thought of you desperately trying to get yourself off. Did you think about him when you touched yourself?

He hopes you thought of him as you put that little toy to your clit. His cock continued to get painfully hard in his jeans thinking of you being a whimpering mess as you moaned his name. He can't help himself at this point. His cock is straining and just begging to be stroked.

He lays back on your back against your headboard. His heart is racing, knowing you're only mere inches away from him right now. He pulls down his jeans just far enough for his cock spring forward and slap his bellybutton. Closing his eyes and spitting on his hand, moving it down to give it a few light strokes.

He bites his lower lip to stifle a moan as he brings his thumb to press down on his tip. He tries being quiet as he thinks about using your vibrator on you. Making you cum over and over again until youre begging him to fuck you.

Hearing you moan his name, turning you into a complete and utter mess at his mercy. He's gotten so lost in his fantasy that he doesn't hear you open up your bedroom door. He's steadily pumping his cock thinking about how tight your pussy must feel. How wet you must get just by barely being touched.

You stood there, not knowing what to do at first. Should you leave him be? You were at first going to just sneak out, let him finish, and pretend like nothing happened. That was until you heard him moan your name under his breath.

Clearing your throat. "Need some help?"

Eddie's eyes shot open, and he froze, not really knowing what to say to or do. His hand still fisting his cock as he stares at you from his position. You move to sit next to him as you're wearing nothing but a towel. You notice the little pink toy lying next to him on the bed.

"Please." He whispered

Those big brown eyes begging you to help him.

His breathing quickens as he looks at you in disbelief. He can't believe he's finally doing this with you, his best friend. His best friend, whom he's been in love with since the day he can remember.

"Actually, since you want to get off so badly, how about you use this instead while i watch." You said as your eyes looked over to the vibrator laying next to him. He gulps a little nervous to do this infront of you but also so fucking excited. He picks it up, turning it on its lowest setting. Feeling the hum of the vibration in his palm.

Bringing the vibrator to his tip, he hisses at the sudden sensation. His chest already heaving up and down rapidly. He knows he won't last much longer, and at this point, he doesn't care. He's been dying to cum for too long at this point. He moves it up and down his length and back to his tip again.

You watch him buck his hips up as he moves the toy up and down his cock. He's moaning and whimpering, biting down down on his other fist, trying his best to keep quiet. He doesn't want you to him hear him sound so desperate. His face is flushed. His body covered in sweat as his hair sticks to his face.

"Mmmfph! Fuck!"

"I-im gonna cum. "

He's not trying to hide his moans anymore, and he turns up the intensity of the vibrator. You're growing wetter the longer you watch him squirm in front of you from across the bed. His tip is an angry shade of red as it leakes precum.

Within just a few more minutes he's shooting cum all over his stomach. His head falls back as his mouth hangs open. Drool is spilling down his chin, and his eyes are glossed over. Eddies takes a little bit to come to his senses. He's never came that hard before for anyone ever just and hopefully only you.

"Shit." He said out of breath.

A small smirk forms on his face as he turns to look at you again. He wiggled his eyebrows and tossed the vibrator on your lap. You looked down noticing some of his cum got on it.

"It's your turn, sweetheart."

[koolades-world]

Can you do some crack headcanons for Obey Me where some accident causes MC to temporary get wings that are not only huge af but also let them fly super fast? Like a singular flap could cause MC to almost bump into the ceiling at Diavolo's castle alone. They can also zoom through the air at high speeds and you can just hear the "ZYOOOOOM"

One thing I can imagine is Lucifer teaching MC how to fly and immediately regretting it cuz he's the only one who can get even remotely close to them when they're flying and MC finds it funny to fly away from him(it's also out of fear of what will happen once he gets them)

hi! haha yeah of course! this is too funny can kinda imagine mc going splat like a in a cartoon LOL

let's set the scene: solomon fed you something weird that he cooked up in a cauldron after promising you something you want, and this makes you grow these super large, super strong wings. he swears they'll go away eventually, but it's up to you if you believe that or not. how does your man react?

Mc with temporary wings

Lucifer

kinda like a disapproving dad for accepting yet another strange potion from solomon

despite this, he takes you under his wing (haha get it?) and teaches you how to control them

once you get comfortable, you invite him to play games that he pretends he doesn't have time for but always joins in on. he secretly really enjoys having someone to

gosh,,, sky tag 🥺 the silly potential is endless since in the sky, there are no expectation for either of you

Mammon

probably also would have taken that offer from solomon

as another wing haver, he can help you out a little

the first time he tried to give you lessons, you accidentally smacked him in the face and sent him into the wall behind you

after that, he’s much more careful, and once you get the hang of it, he's teaching you his crafty ways

Levi

manages to reference at least three different animes he's seen around the situation

he thinks your wings are so cool but won't admit it

at one point, he takes you diving at Siren Beach for fun since you would be able to move through the water quickly with the large wings. lotan joins and you end up finding lots of cool stuff!

afterwards, he helps you dry off your wings since that wasn't exactly something you thought about before you got in the water

Satan

he's quick to ask solomon about how he made the potion out of curiosity

also asks if he can study your wings and watches you as you learn to fly

kinda goes science mode on you

since he knows how tiring carrying around that new weight must be, so he gives you lots of tasty food to replenish your energy, and offers you massages! (he learnt from simeon, the best)

Asmo

over the moon! he thinks they're so beautiful and almost wants to ask solomon to give him a pair too

he will accessorize you even if you run away, so expect lots of him hustling after you with all his ribbons and bows in hand

"Mc, sweetie, you're gonna look so cute!" is holding the ugliest old lady esque bows ever

teaches you all his favorite arial tricks even though both of you realize early on that you don't have the agility required with how large your wings are

Beel

can't comprehend how fast you are with those things

even though he also has wings, you fly circles around him with yours (if you even have the control for that)

quickly introduced you to aerial sports and the two of you find games to play together, even though it's kinda hard considering how different your wings and skillsets are

since they're only temporary, he wants you to make the most of them, and takes you sight seeing!

Belphie

you're literally just a pillow as far as he's concerned now

they're perfect for wrapping himself in and if you wanted, you could hide the two of you in them

when you're practicing flying, he yells out all sorts of useless "useful" tips, such as not to run into something you've already hit

he just sits on the sidelines, wrapped in a blanket, watching lazily amused

[kneelingshadowsalome]

what if engel is a virgin but insanely boy crazy 👁👄👁 and she will/can never not be

Hoooo boy!

NSFW below the cut

So, um. Reader never told König if she's experienced or not (if she was a virgin then my thoughts and prayers are with her.) Part of König's hostility in the crazy mating scene comes from his belief that Engel is not a virgin. He is extremely jealous of everyone reader might've had before him, so he guides his frustration to heated, possessive sex, stripping her with a knife, and so on.

But if we imagine you told him it's your first time, then things would go slightly differently. König would be much more delicate with you!

And good God… He would be even more enamored. You're kind, you're sweet, you're innocent and you're a virgin too?

König can’t believe his luck. You're just perfect. He can’t stand the thought of you with other men so finding out you're in fact untouched is only a blessing. König wants to be the only one who makes you scream and sigh. And what an ultimate fantasy: he gets to corrupt a pure, pristine virgin (of course König would never put it this way. He's simply introducing you to pleasure. Nothing wrong with that, right? He has good intentions! He's the best choice if you wish to feel good, ja ❤️)

So, König tries to keep his cool as he asks if this is what you truly want (yes? please say yes) and if this is the right time (this is as good a time as any, you just need to trust him!), is he truly the man you want to give yourself to? (tell him he’s the one, you will not regret it.)

He tries to be a gentleman and at the same time can't keep his hands off you. Hands steal their way under your clothes as he tries to persuade you by whispering things like: "I will be good to you, there’s no need to be afraid. I will be gentle, I promise…" But it’s difficult to believe anything he says because his hands are trembling, the whole man is trembling and throbbing and panting already.

If and when you're willing to have sex, König will take you in a classic missionary. No pounding from behind, no crazy unhinged mating press. And he prepares you first! With his tongue, perhaps pulls out an orgasm or two so that you will be relaxed and ready for him. It’s very likely that König pumps himself through an orgasm too while pleasing you with his mouth because he’s waited so long for this moment. Your taste and the sounds you make as he licks you to ruin are far too much. He will erupt in mere minutes and then be hard again in no time for the main event.

König tries so, so hard to control the urge to just plow you until your eyes roll in your head. He tries his best not to simply pound himself straight into oblivion. He wanted you before, sure, but now his want is doubled. Tripled. He fears he will hurt you and basically shakes from the effort to restrain himself as he finally enters you.

He goes a little over the top with the praise, too... You feel so good, nothing has ever felt better, you're such a good girl when you said yes, Lieber Gott you look cute like this, he knew you were made for him, etc. And he wants to know that you feel good. Not just to check if you're ok, but to hear how he makes you feel. Does he give you pleasure? Do you like it when he does it slowly? He can be more rough if you want. How does it feel to have a man inside you for the first time?

He's sweating from love and frustration, the hunger becomes all-consuming as he approaches his peak, and you get to see a sliver of who this man truly is underneath all that fake composure. As sad as it sounds, there's a chance he is so lost in you that he cums before you. He just can't help it. But he will make sure you get all the pleasure you need before the night is through and be extra attentive with the aftercare ❤️ (Also he would definitely be one of those guys who check if there's blood after you did it because he thinks it's a given that there is)

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 2)

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: torture collars, needles, mention of past dubcon (hybrids under influence of the synthetic hormones cannot properly consent), more inaccurate business talk,

____

It’s 7am the next day when your actual assistant shows up at your door, with your precious Americano in hand.

“I heard about the coffee mishap yesterday, so I thought I’d bring you this a little earlier than usual.”

“You are my savior.”

Yoongi laughs as you invite him in. Your assistant is one of the few people you found you could let your guard down around. He’s probably the closest thing you have to a friend.

“Is everything alright with you? You never call off work, and you didn’t reply to the message I sent.”

“Sorry, there was a lot going on. Everything’s fine now, just had a little scare with my mom’s blood pressure. She’s good though!”

“Oh thank god. Are you sure you don’t need more days off to take care of her?”

“My brother is keeping an eye on her, but I very much appreciate the sentiment.”

“Of course. Don’t hesitate to step out when you need. Or if you need help with her medical bills, I’m always here.”

“Woah woah, calm down there before I start spreading a rumor that you’re actually a nice person Y/N.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, “Don’t you dare.”

But the joking atmosphere only lasts for two seconds before your mood turns solemn.

“I’m actually so far from a nice person you wouldn’t believe it.”

And so it goes, you explaining the entire fiasco of last night. You know you deserve the judgy look he tries to hide when you get to how easily you caved in. But there’s also sympathy in his eyes, because he’s one of the few people in the world who would even try to understand where you’re coming from.

“That’s not all…they also…um…gave me one.”

He looks puzzled.

“They gave you a collar? But you don’t even have a hybrid.”

You take a deep breath before uttering the next sentence.

“They gave me a hybrid.”

“WHAT?!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice low, he’s sleeping in one of the guest rooms right now!”

He switches to a whisper yell instantaneously.

“You took a hybrid home with you? Are you insane?!”

“Maybe I am. I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly acting with a plan. I just couldn’t send him back to get tortured. You should see him Yoongi, he looks like he’s been through hell and back.”

The man’s eyes softened.

“I don’t know how you’re going to get yourself out of this mess, but I guess I’m getting dragged into it with you, aren’t I?”

“You can always quit, you know. I’d give you a cushy desk job somewhere in the company.”

“Eh I’ll wait. I’m still not fed up with you yet, even if I think you’re actually insane for this. So is the hybrid going to just lounge around here while you’re at work? Shouldn’t there be some supervision?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I notified the housekeepers already, told them I’d pay extra if they take care of him for me. His name’s Jungkook by the way. 60% human and 40% gray wolf.”

“40% is a lot.”

He’s right. The very few pet wolf hybrids in the market right now are 25% wolf, as that’s the max percentage before they get too dangerous to handle.

“Yeah, but I’m more of a threat to him than he is to me at this point.”

___

The workday is long, and you’re mentally not even there. Every five minutes, you’re thinking about Jungkook and how he’s doing. Thankfully, the housekeepers keep sending you updates to assure you he’s doing fine.

You scroll through with relief, reading what he’s up to throughout the day. Apparently, he was terrified of the shower, but had no problem drawing himself a bath. Another text let you know he loves the omelet the chef prepared for lunch. And the rest of the texts are just notifying you that he’s resting in his room at various points in the day. So far so good, thankfully.

With your mind at some ease, you can actually focus on work.

You get your hands on everything Pet Paradise can give on the Obedience Collar before officially signing a contract. There’s information that’s classified, mainly the patent for the synthetic hormones, but the books and research procedures are documented in the files in front of you. And unfortunately, they look spotless. The money is all there in a clear trail, no gaps or unusual patterns, and the research procedure follows all protocol needed. You want to just hide under your desk and avoid this entire situation.

You’re scheduled to tour the research facility tomorrow, and the last thing you want to do is see five more hybrids as scared as Jungkook—especially knowing you can’t scoop these ones up and take them home. But you’re holding out hope. There’s still a chance that something’s wrong at the facilities, something not shown on paper. At this point you’d settle for the smallest thing and find a way to blow it up so the whole operation has to be shut down. You’ve got some of the best lawyers in the country, so you might as well use them. You just need something to be wrong.

It's around 6:45pm when you arrive home, and one of the housekeepers greets you with a warm smile, immediately jumping into how well-behaved Jungkook is. It makes you wince to hear him described like that, especially knowing the amount of needles piercing his skin just to achieve the “well-behaved” status.

The staff all leave as you arrive, knowing you like them to be done by the time you're back. The chef has already left hours earlier, as he usually prepares dinner in advance and keeps it in the fridge.

Jungkook’s door is slightly ajar, and you peek in to see the boy melted into the bed. It’s weird; he looks a lot more tired than yesterday, eyes barely keeping themselves open. It’s probably the hormones, you conclude somberly.

“Jungkook, it’s time for dinner. Come on out.”

The boy takes the last bit of energy he has to trudge to the dinner table, and you put a heated up bowl of kimchi-jjigae down. You sit across and join, noticing that the stew is extra flavorful today.

“Mhmm, Chef Gyu really outdid himself with this one. And I bet the omelet was just as delicious. I was told you loved it, is that true?”

You look over expecting an answer, but what you see instead is Jungkook almost falling asleep right into the bowl before catching himself at the last minute.

Maybe the side effect of the hormones make him too sleepy to do anything?

Your thoughts are interrupted by your ringtone. It’s Chef Gyu.

“Hello Chef, I was just singing your praises for this food.”

There’s a nervous chuckle at the other end of the line.

“Thank you Y/N, glad you and your new friend liked it.”

“Is something wrong? You usually don't call this late.”

“Um, yes, actually. The reason I called is because of your hybrid.”

“What do you mean? I was told he stayed in his room for most of the day. Did he cause you any trouble?”

You look over, but Jungkook is too exhausted to register that you’re talking about him.

“No, none at all. He was extremely polite. The problem was the housekeeping staff…they didn’t do any of the work today.”

You feel a pit in your stomach, putting the pieces together.

“Did they…did they make Jungkook clean the house?”

“Yes Miss. They were watching TV for practically the whole time. I should’ve told you earlier, but I told myself it wasn’t my place. I’m deeply sorry.”

“Thank you for telling me now. I appreciate it a lot. I have to go.”

You hang up abruptly, seething the minute the phone is cut.

There’s a million different ways your mind is conjuring up of how to ruin the housekeeping agency, make them cry bankruptcy as you blacklist them from working anywhere ever again. The rage inside you is glowing red, and the only thing getting you to calm down at all is your objective of getting Jungkook back into bed before he actually does fall asleep into his dinner. You support his weight gently, grateful that he’s awake enough to zombie-walk wherever you lead him. It’s only when he’s tucked under the blankets do you let the anger stir up again.

They made him clean the entire house by himself. A house that usually takes eight people to clean, they made him do all alone so they could kick back and relax with your flatscreen TV. It astonishes you how cruel people can be, how they can look into his scared doe eyes and take advantage of him.

The world is not on Jungkook’s side right now, it seems.

___

Yesterday’s incident is fresh in your mind the next morning. Thankfully, Yoongi found a new housekeeping service at the last minute. You’re still worried that the same thing might happen again, but you can’t afford to miss work today; so, you do the best that you can and ask Chef Gyu to keep an eye on the situation while he’s cooking.

Today’s the day you need to tour the lab facilities for the Obedience Collar—a task you’d trade in to do quite literally anything else. Yoongi looks at you with concern, seeing the strain this visit is putting on you.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Isn’t the plan to go in and find something to shut the whole thing down?”

“But if I can’t shut it down? What if there’s nothing wrong there either, and I have to look into the faces of five other abused hybrids and know I’m ruining their lives? What if I just call the whole thing off? Yes Mr.Kang is going to be insufferable and yes it’s going to cause a blow to my reputation, but it can’t be worth it to go through with this. It’s just not right.”

The room is silent for a second before Yoongi speaks up.

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was trying to find a good time to tell you since yesterday, but you’ve been so stressed that I didn’t know how…”

“Spit it out Yoongi.”

“Kang got on the board of directors at Jewel Accounting.”

Your blood runs cold. Jewel Accounting is one of your key partners.

“W-what do you mean? Isn’t that a conflict of interest? How can he be on the board that has to audit his own company?”

“He’s overseeing consulting, not audits. Pet Paradise wouldn’t be his client, but I’m afraid pulling out of this deal on a whim is going to make business a lot harder for us. The only way out is finding a good legal argument against investing.”

You want to shove your head into a bucket of cement.

___

The lab is cold and sterile, with glaring fluorescent lights, medical lab equipment spread everywhere, and white-tiles lining floor to ceiling. The researchers guiding you, however, seem to be in a chipper mood, smiling as if they don’t torture hybrids on a daily basis here. First, your team is taken around to look at the facility in general. Jungkook’s adverse reaction to showers makes sense when you see the one tiny sad looking shower stall they use—a lab assistant boasts about the stall being “efficient” by fitting at least three of them in at once.

Yoongi lightly touches your shoulder at different points throughout the tour, as if to ground you. There’s no beds, just a chamber with cots on the floor, and the food packets of sludgy brown gruel are easily the least appetizing thing you’ve ever seen.

“And now we have the part you are all, no doubt, most excited for: the research subjects!”

You hold your breath, dreading what comes next.

One by one, each wolf hybrid is brought out and lined up in front of you, all with the same fear engraved in them as Jungkook. They might be the hybrids, but you’re the one with urge to claw someone’s eyes out at the moment.

“We’ve trained different ones for different purposes, just to test how well the collar can make them behave in different situations. Jungkook was given away before any specific training, but the rest are skilled in different domains. First up we have Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

Three of the hybrids step forward. One is a broad-shouldered blonde, with two smaller-framed brunettes next to him.

“These three have been trained for housework and taking care of children. Now, we know the image of a wolf-hybrid putting a baby to sleep sounds ridiculous, but this technology really is that advanced.”

Someone in the back makes some joke about a wolf singing rock-a-bye baby and everyone laughs. You and Yoongi fake a laugh to keep up appearances.

“The next one is Hoseok”

He’s lean with slicked-back black hair, and you notice he’s the only one dressed up, with a low v-neck shirt that leaves plenty of his chest exposed. More than he’s comfortable with, it seems, because you notice his hands itching to cover himself up. He doesn’t though, just fidgets with the sides of the shirt instead.

“He’s a romantic companion. Trained to give pleasure to any gender and for any intimate situation. He can fulfill every fantasy your minds can conjure up!”

There’s some snickers erupting again, but neither you or your assistant can attempt to fake laugh this time. Especially not when he makes eye contact, giving you a trained flirty smile that doesn’t reach his eyes one bit.

“And the last one is Namjoon, the pack alpha.”

Namjoon steps up, the tallest of them all. He stands the straightest as well. His hair is black and his eyes are more dragon-like than wolf, looking straight ahead with a stoic expression. The only indication of his scared nature is his trembling fingers and pleading eyes, but that aside, he looks as still as a statue.

“He’s a guard hybrid, perfect to keep intruders away. He’s been trained in a mix of defensive martial arts. Plus, he’s an alpha so you’d have to be insane to try to fight him off. Fun fact, hormone packs for alphas are different—they have a higher dosage. It took some experimentation, but we finally got the levels right.

And with that, you’ve seen the whole pack! Normally, training a wolf hybrid to do any of these would take at least two years, and that’s only for the ones 25% max wolf DNA. God knows training a 40% wolf would be nearly impossible. But with the help of the Obedience Collar, not only can we train higher percentages of wolves, but we can train them in as little as three months! As Mr.Kang probably told you a thousand times already, this will really revolutionize the hybrid market!”

___

You toss your laptop bag onto the sofa right as you come in through the door, kicking your heels off and slouching into your favorite recliner. You can’t be bothered to put things up in a tidy manner at the moment, especially with how shitty you feel.

There wasn’t a single flaw you could find at the lab today. All the equipment had passed inspection checks and were state-of-the art, the researchers had proper credentials and specialized licenses in hybrid research, and every procedure conducted was documented thoroughly—you made it a point to skip over the entire section for Hoseok, wanting to stay far away from the details of what he was made to do.

You let out a frustrated groan. Forgetting you’re no longer alone in your house, hearing footsteps shuffle spooks you for a second, before you see the wolf hybrid timidly come into the living room. Thankfully, he looks well-rested today. Chef Gyu did text you a while back that the new cleaners were doing well, and Jungkook was actually resting in his room for real this time. He does a quick bow before walking over and propping your heels up correctly. His next mission seems to be to put your carelessly tossed laptop bag in its proper place.

“You don’t need to do that for me Jungkook. I can do it myself.”

“Sorry Miss.”

You hate how meek he sounds, and that he’s the one apologizing in this situation. You should be getting on your knees spilling apologies right now, for going to that lab to see his pack be flaunted off like toys. But instead, he’s looking at you as if he’s the guilty one.

“You didn’t do anything to apologize for. Thank you for tidying up, I appreciate it.” You give me a reassuring smile, but he seems more confused than anything else. He doesn’t know if that means to do it more in the future or not do it all…he wishes you could just give simple commands instead of these tests.

You sit down for dinner, but don’t know how much of an appetite you have after today.

“Do you like the fried rice?”

“Yes Miss” he says between big spoonful, and the way he talks with his cheeks full makes you melt a little.

“Call me Y/N, please.”

“Yes Miss Y/N.”

“Just Y/N is fine”

He raises a brow,

“Pets should address their owners politely, Miss Y/N.”

That sentence makes your skin crawl. The way he so casually refers to himself as a pet, and to you as an owner.

“It’s okay Jungkook, I like being called Y/N.”

“…if you say so, Y/N.”

The name alone feels so wrong on his tongue, making him worry that someone in a lab coat is about to come drag him away for extra obedience training.

“Thank you. So, what have you been doing all day?”

“I tried to help out with the housework, but the people today told me that wasn’t my job��which was really confusing because the people yesterday told me that it was my job.”

“It’s not your job.”

“What is my job Mis—I mean, Y/N? I know I don't have specialized training, but I'm a quick learner! If you could give me a list on how to be good here, I’ll do my best and follow it.”

You want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about things like that anymore, but you’re concerned that a conversation like that will malfunction his brain. How could it not, when the hormones flowing through his body plus the brainwashing tell him that’s all he should be thinking about.

“There is one thing you could do for me”

His wolf ears perk up, eager for a command.

“It’s really hard to keep up with the latest shows with my job, but I feel left out when everyone in the office has seen something I haven’t. If I give you a list, you think you could watch them for me and give me the summaries?”

“Yes absolutely! I’ll take detailed notes and tell you everything!”

There’s genuine excitement in his eyes. Jungkook’s never had the opportunity to watch TV before, and he can’t believe his luck. He doesn’t show his joy too much though, fearing that you’ll think he’s using the assignment as an excuse to slack off. He wants to be good, wants to show you he’s well-trained.

“Perfect. You’ll be helping me out a lot.”

You have to bite your lip to keep a straight face, endeared by how hard he’s trying to hide his excitement. But the moment is short-lived, as Jungkook’s face turns sour in an instant.

“What are you thinking about?”

“My pack. They’d probably love watching TV too.”

You don’t say anything to that.

Dinner ends with an uncomfortable silence looming in the air, that is until Jungkook spills juice on himself.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

“B-but you just got me these clothes. I was being careless. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really fine, it’s not hard to get it dry-cleaned. I’ll put the dishes up, so go in and change into something else.”

He gives you one last string of “I’m so sorry”s before heading off to his room.

Once you’ve loaded the dishwasher, you make your way upstairs to the boy’s room, seeing if he needs anything before bed. His bedroom door is open, as is the bathroom door. You follow the sounds of scrubbing before being met with his back to you, hunched over the sink, trying to get the stain out of the white t-shirt. He’s topless and you know it’s wrong to ogle at his incredibly fit physique right now, but something catches your attention right before you’re about to avert your eyes.

Blue splotches pepper his waist, almost bruise-like but not quite.

“Um, Jungkook”

The boy turns,

“What are those blue marks?”

He twists his body in front of the mirror, looking at the marks with the same amount of confusion as you.

“I have no clue.”

Was it an allergic reaction? Have your “eat up” commands been making him eat food he’s allergic to?

“Do you have any allergies?”

“I’m not sure…no one’s ever told me…but I feel fine.”

“Nothing hurts? No nausea, hives, itchy nose?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll come home early tomorrow and schedule a visit with a hybrid doctor in the evening.”

The color in his face visibly drains.

“I’m a-alright. Really.”

No doctor please. Last thing I need is another person in a white coat messing with my body again.

Your tone softens, “Relax, the most it’ll be is an allergy test. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Jungkook’s back to shaking as much as he did on his first day.

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know if you're liking it so far!

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22

*If Tumblr doesn't let me tag you for some reason, I'll send you a DM instead!

[milla-frenchy]

Bad girl

7k4 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller Summary: you break into Joel Miller’s house but not everything goes according to plan Warnings: 18+mdni. Dubcon Voyeurism, threesome mfm (dp), dirty talk, degradation, masturbation (f/m), oral (f/m), bondage, spanking, spitting, slapping, manhandling, horny reader, rimming, unprotected piv, ass play, anal, creampie. No age specified, no outbreak a/n : after Keep on your mean side and The burglary, this is the 3rd fic @aurorawritestoescape and I wrote together. We hope you’ll like it ❤️ Kate, writing with you is always such a pleasure ❤️❤️❤️ ILY baby 💕🫶

Kate's masterlist | My masterlist | ao3

******************

You hacked his cell phone, his laptop, his alarm and video surveillance system several weeks ago. You studied his habits, what time he got up, what time he came home, and went to bed. 

Joel Miller.

He runs one of the biggest construction companies in the region, and he is in charge of projects for a lot of  wealthy clients. You had been paid to get plans of a house he’d built for one of them. 

Having studied him well, you knew whether after coming home, he was going to eat, watch TV, go to bed, or watch porn, based on the way he walked, held himself, threw his keys on the cabinet in the hall. 

He  watched a lot of porn. Mainly rough, raw fucking, and gangbangs. 

The first time you saw him watching porn, you had two surveillance screens in front of you, and you could see what he was watching, and him, at the same time.

That first time, he started playing the video, and touched himself through the jeans. He did it slowly, taking his time, before unzipping his pants, and pulling out his cock and then his balls. 

When you saw his dick, you couldn't believe your eyes. His cock was thick and long. You've never seen such a big dick, except in porn. 

And the second time you watched him, you couldn’t help but touch yourself too. Matching your rhythm to his, imagining his cock in your mouth, you wondered if you’d be able to take it all. What did his cum taste like. Then you imagined him thrusting into your pussy. Forcing its way inside your core, spreading your folds. You tried to feel the emotions it would give you, him fucking you. How he would tear you apart. How it could even make you cry. 

You were imagining it every time you watched him, while his hand was moving up and down his cock. And when he came, you would come with him, moaning and imagining his cum spurted deep inside your pussy.

Last night, you received a notification when he got home. You approached your screens, your plate with pasta in hand. But this time he wasn't alone. He was walking up the stairs following a woman. His eyes were fixed on her ass in a tight dress. When they came to the bedroom, she turned to him and wanted to caress his cheek. But he grabbed her hand, stopping her, before taking her other hand as well, and pinning them behind her back. She paused for a moment, and he kissed her, his body against hers, before releasing her hands and grabbing her ass. 

You put down your plate, and sat down facing the screens. You couldn’t believe you were going to watch him fuck someone, after everything your mind had been imagining so far.

He told her to get on her knees, and he slowly pulled out his hard cock. You saw her eyes widen, like yours a few weeks ago. He didn't even ask her to suck him off. Everything about his attitude expressed dominance. The way he was towering over her holding his cock tightly. His gaze ordered her to blow him, without a word being needed to say. She took his tip in her mouth while he was still holding his cock.

You zoomed in on the camera, to see her face, her mouth up close. The way her lips curved around the tip, the way she tried her best to take it all. He kept talking to her, telling her how well she was doing, what a good girl she was. How he couldn’t wait to fuck her cunt.

You slipped your hand into your pants and ran your index finger along your folds through your panties. You moaned, feeling how wet the fabric was.

On the screen, she was now taking him in her mouth entirely with greed. She emanated the desire for him. He continued his praise, and she was moaning at each word. 

He told her to get up and get on the bed, on all fours, and to keep her clothes on.

He stripped completely naked, and even though it obviously wasn't the first time you'd seen him like that, once again you couldn't help but whimper. His torso was V-shaped, with broad shoulders and a thin waist. You marveled at his back muscles, his biceps, flexing as he knelt behind her. 

He pulled her dress up over her waist, and caressed the roundness of her buttocks, before spanking her firmly. She cried out, but didn’t try to move away from him. He smirked and spanked her a second time, harder, before pulling her panties down her thighs, and taking them off entirely. 

He spread her ass cheeks with his big hands and leaned down, licking a stripe from her pussy to her ass. You saw her back arch and you envied her so much that your left hand tightened on your thigh. You couldn't wait any longer so you inserted your index and middle fingers into your pussy, to get them wet. You were so soaked that you could hear the obscene sounds your pussy was making. You glided your digits up to your clit, eyes fixed on the screen, where he was eating her out, his nose buried in her ass. 

After he made her come, he stood up, grabbed his cock, and positioned himself at her entrance, waiting. You held your breath, and you imagined that she was certainly holding hers. You slid your middle finger down to your entrance, and moaned, like she did when he thrusted in slowly. You were pushing your finger into your weeping pussy while he was pushing his cock into hers. You groaned, wishing you didn’t have only your fingers to get off, far from feeling what she could feel. He paused when his tip was inside her. She moaned, again, pleading, “oh my god Joel…you’re too big. Move, please. Move.” He grabbed her hips and pulled back, before thrusting in again, firmly, this time without stopping. Fucking her intermittently, flooding her with his dirty talk, alternating praise and light degradation. How she was taking it good, how he was fucking her like the little slut she was. Sometimes, he would slow down the pace, before speeding up again. 

Your orgasm hit you unexpectedly. Lazily, you continued to stroke yourself, spreading your wetness from your hole to your clit. Soon she came on his cock, crying out his name. A few minutes later he sent his load on her face, after ordering her to kneel on the floor.

Fuck, you thought. It wasn't the first time you'd seen one of the people you were watching fuck, but it was the first time you were unable to resist the urge to touch yourself, too turned on by what you were seeing on the screen.

After looking through all the data you collected, you still had nothing about the plans. You knew he had an old-fashioned safe. They must have been there. Your last option was to get the plans after breaking into his house, and forcing him to give you the combination. And you were going to do it the next night.

You enter his home, after paralyzing the alarm and surveillance system, and creating a video loop. You are dressed in black: hoodie, pants, gloves, balaclava. You walk quietly, using your phone to track him and check his whereabouts in the house. You go upstairs and head towards his bedroom. You know he's sitting at his desk checking his emails, his back to the bedroom door. A rookie mistake that made you smile the first time you spied on him. You take out your gun before entering the bedroom, so as not to make any noise. You know the carpet in his room will muffle the sound of your footsteps. You pass through his door frame, the gun pointed at him.

“Hands in the air, and turn around, slowly. Don’t get up.”

He freezes when he hears you and immediately looks at his surveillance screens, yet they don’t show you. You can tell he's frowning, like he does so often. You remove the safety, and say “don’t make me repeat it.” He raises his hands in the air and slowly turns around. You see his gaze trying to peer into yours. But the light in his room is dim, and the balaclava doesn't allow him to see much. Your voice leaves no doubt that you are a woman, but you notice that he quickly looks behind you, to see if you are not alone. He seems surprised when he sees nobody else there.

“Slowly roll your chair towards me, 4 feet.”

He does as you ask, keeping his hands in the air and his gaze on you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you say, taking out a pair of handcuffs. “I was able to neutralize your entire surveillance system. You understand that I am used to this type of intervention, right?”

He nods as you move closer to him. You chain him to the chair, your gun still pointed at him. 

“Do what I ask, and I'll leave. Ok?"

He nods, and waits. He looks calm. You point to the wall on the other side of his bed with the painting that hides the safe.

"The combination?"

He gives it to you, and you go to open the safe, still watching him. The plans are there, stored with the others, which have no value to you.

You take the ones you need and walk around the bed, facing him again. An idea comes to you. Totally unprofessional. You look at him, and you think about all the times you spied on him. All those times you watched him jerk off. You think about the woman he fucked last night. You shake your head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that come to your mind.

You think about his cock again. His cum spurting out, reaching his lower abdomen, his thighs. The drops that glisten on his clenched fist. Without realizing it, you glance at his crotch. Half a second, but enough for him to notice it, and something changes in his eyes. He shows astonishment at first, then... interest. As if he was reading your mind. But he doesn't say anything. You're not surprised as he demonstrates his unfailing self-control. 

And something inside you switches. You want to challenge him, to break his composure. So you do what you've never done, you put your professionalism aside and let your primal instincts take over. After all, you got what you came for. The plans. 

“I’ve been watching you for a long time.” He tilts his head to the side, slightly, and waits. “Nights, mornings, evenings.” You discern a slight grin. But he doesn't crack. So you push again. “I saw the videos you watch. Several times a week. And I saw you with that woman last night.”

“And?”

“And, I’m gonna take out your cock, and you’re gonna be a good boy, and let me do it, ok?”

You know, having seen him fuck that woman, that “good boy” isn’t exactly the correct way to describe him. He isn’t a nice guy when he’s fucking. But then again, you are hoping to crack his armor.

“Well, darlin’... seems like I don’t have a choice.”

You know it’s a bad idea, and his response doesn’t reassure you. His tone is far too confident. But you have already crossed the line. Also he is tied up, and you are armed. You think “fuck it” and approach him.

You place the gun on his desk, and kneel down, putting your hand on his crotch. You stay like that, your hand simply placed. You've watched him so many times, you've wanted him so many times, and now you don't want to hurry. You feel his cock twitch. You look up at him, and he tilts his head to the side, smirking. You unbutton his pants and slide your hand inside. He's not wearing underwear and you shiver when you feel the skin of his semi-hard cock. 

A little voice inside you asks what the hell you're doing, putting yourself in danger like this. Kneeling in front of him, while he’s sitting in his chair. He could throw himself forward, or hit you with one of his knees. Make you fall. Even if his hands are tied up, it's too risky. You have always been calm in your work, extremely careful and conscientious. And then you put everything aside. For a cock.

You straddle him, and bring your nose to his neck. You breathe him in. His natural smell, his perfume. Finally you hear his breathing speeding up. The first sign of a slight crack in his armor. You grind your pelvis, brushing it against his crotch, and you feel him grow beneath you.

“Darlin’, are you sure you wanna start this?”

You face him defiantly and this time you don't hesitate before taking out his cock. It’s much harder than a few moments ago. You offer him your hand, palm up and say “spit.” He spits, and after taking him in your hand, you begin gently jerking him.

“Fuck, sweetheart…you want it that bad?” You release his cock and rub yourself against him, through your thin pants, bracing your hands on his shoulders. He sighs deeply this time.

“How many times did you touch yourself, watching me, darlin’?”

You don’t answer, so he smiles and adds “that many, huh? This little pussy needs my fat cock so much you’re ready to risk your mission for takin’ it?”

“Don’t make me gag you”, you say, feeling his precum soak through your clothes.

“Oh, sweetheart…come on…I’m sure you like this talk. A slut like you, wants to hear nasty things. You wanna hear me, telling you how I’m gonna fuck your holes.”

“Fuck”, you say, grinding against him a little faster.

“Just what I thought. Fuck, the things I’d do to you, if I weren’t tied up. I’d make you scream on my thick cock.”

You tilt your head back getting lost in the pleasure, turned on even more by his dirty talk. 

You miss the way his gaze darts to the door and don’t hear a man quietly approaching you two. 

The next thing you feel is hands grabbing you by the arms and throwing you off Joel. You fall on the floor, hitting your head and back and get disoriented for a second. The carpet softens your fall, and you rush to get up but the man jumps you and straddles your hips. “Get her!” you hear Joel roar behind you two. The man clasps your wrists with his big hands and you see his face. You recognise him immediately - Tommy Miller, Joel’s brother and his business partner. He overpowers you easily and pins your hands over your head. His face is right over you, his thighs and crotch push your hips to the floor and you can’t help but get turned on. What the fuck is wrong with you? First Joel and now him?! 

You’re scolding yourself inwardly trying to push the man off, but his legs are too strong and you’re completely powerless against him. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets you with a smile, breathing heavily over you and you hiss back, “Get off me!”

He just laughs and quickly gets up, pulling you up and dragging you to the bed. He throws you on the soft mattress and straddles your waist this time. 

Joel shouts, “Handcuffs, top drawer, Tommy!”

Fuck! Of course he has handcuffs!

You wriggle under Joel’s brother but the man grabs your shoulders and presses you against the bed. He clasps your throat and squeezes it lightly, making you focus on unclamping his fingers around your neck while he opens the drawer in the nightstand with his free hand and finds the handcuffs. You scream, the sound hoarse and weak because of the hand around your throat. As the last attempt to break free, you hit his back really hard and Tommy grunts and slaps your face with the hand holding the handcuffs. It doesn’t hurt much as your face is still covered with the balaclava but the whiplash makes you stop fighting for a second and it’s enough for him to lift your hand and handcuff you to the headboard. You hear Joel laugh with triumph and start tugging on the chain. You sit up hastily and Joel tells Tommy to get the handcuffs’ key from your pocket. 

He locks eyes with you and smirks, and you notice his semi hard cock twitch. You grind your teeth feeling anger and frustration rise up in your throat, as Tommy searches for the key. 

Having found it he runs to his brother and unlocks the handcuffs. Joel tucks his cock in his pants, then gets up rubbing his wrists, and steps up to the foot of the bed. Nerves and fear are gnawing at your stomach but you don’t show it, throwing daggers at the men with your blown eyes. 

“What the fuck is it, Joel? Is it one of your exes?” Tommy asks with a chuckle, placing his hands on the hips and looking you over. 

“Not yet,” Joel replies, walking around the bed and coming closer to you. You start tugging on the chain with both hands, being afraid of what they might do to you. Joel’s hand darts to your head and he takes your balaclava off in one swift move. 

“Pretty little slut,” Joel praises you and Tommy whistles. 

“Fuck you!” you spit out glaring at the men. 

“You will, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Joel chuckles and turns to his brother throwing your mask on the floor. 

“Can you believe it, Tommy? Catwoman here wanted to get the plans from my safe and also bounce on my cock?”

Tommy gawks at you and then a lopsided smile twists his face, “What a slut! Wait! You sure she’s not a birthday hooker a friend sent you? The role playing kind?” 

Joel doesn’t tear his eyes off you, examining every inch of your body and face, “Nah, she’s a professional. Been surveilling me for some time, deactivated my security system.” 

“She was grinding on your dick when I found you two. Not very professional,” Tommy chuckles and you avert your eyes as shame twists your stomach. 

“She’s a pro and a huge slut I guess,” Joel adds with a smirk. As if your own body mocks you, you feel yourself gush hearing their words. 

“She’s hot, Joel, we can give the girl what she wants,” Tommy says, flopping at the foot of the bed.

“I don’t want your dicks, you assholes, let me go!” you exclaim but your command sounds far from confident. You know you’re toast. They’ll call the police and you’ll be arrested and sentenced and …

“Want a deal, sweetheart?” Joel interrupts your pessimistic thoughts with a question. He walks to his brother and sits next to him on the other side of the bed. Too far for you to kick him. 

“How about the three of us spend this night together and in the morning we’ll let you go. Without my plans of course. But I won’t call the police on you and will forget all about your… visit”, he adds and you see Tommy’s eyes light up at the proposition. 

They’re both looking at you waiting for your answer and you swallow loudly before asking with a shaky voice, “you promise?” 

Tommy shoots you a blinding smile while Joel’s smirk disappears and his eyes get dark when he replies, “I guess you know me well by now, darlin’, so you’re aware that I  always keep my promises.” 

You turn your head to look at your hand chained to the bed, then return your gaze back to the two men staring at you, and you know you have no other choice if you want to get out of the situation as a free person. 

You nod chewing on your lip, nervously glancing at Joel and then Tommy. 

“Words, sweetheart, I want to hear you say it,” Joel commands in a soft but stern tone. 

“Yes, I agree.”

“Good girl,” Tommy coos at you as he gets up and comes up to you. He sits down on the bed inches from you and looks at Joel, waiting for his older brother to give him a command. 

“Don’t uncuff her yet,” Joel grunts, adjusting his bulge, “she might be lying to us. I wanna see her naked first.”

“I won’t run, I promise,” you beg, pleading eyes glued to Joel. 

But the man only smirks, “I’m not sure I can believe a thief like yourself. We’ll undress you and play with you and you’ll be uncuffed when I say so, got it, little slut?” Joel rumbles and you rub your thighs to get much needed pressure on your pussy. His voice, his confidence, his words ignite fire inside your core. 

“Yes,” you reply and take a deep breath. You feel nervous but it mixes with the familiar excitement that you usually feel before fucking someone for the first time. You tell yourself you need to be focused to find an opportunity to escape but your pussy aches with desire that clouds your mind. Joel gets up and  settles down next to you. 

“Take her pants off,” he tells Tommy and his brother immediately follows the command, unclasping the button and tugging the zipper down while Joel lifts up your hoodie exposing your bra. Tommy tugs down your pants and you lift your hips helping him. You want to show how eager you are to fuck them, to make them trust you. You don’t have to act that hard though. 

Tommy quickly takes the pants off your legs and the men pause, staring at your black lacy set. He licks his lower lip and Joel adjusts himself again. 

“Fuck, are you absolutely sure she’s not a hooker, brother?” Tommy asks, not tearing his eyes from your body. 

“She’s got a gun, Tommy,” Joel gambles, nodding in the direction of the desk. 

Tommy looks back just noticing the gun, stands up and walks to it. You see him taking your weapon and fear freezes your heart. Tommy confidently opens the magazine and checks the bullets. 

“Fuck, it’s real,” he mumbles looking back at you with concern in his dark eyes, “You know you can kill someone with this thing, kitty?” 

You look at him confidently and a smile tugs at your lips. Joel interrupts you two with his gruff voice,

“Enough talking. Let’s fuck her already.” He leans closer to you and tugs down your bra. Tommy returns to the bed and immediately gets between your legs. They ogle at your naked breasts pushed up by the bra and you bite your lips seeing how hard your nipples are for them. 

“You've got pretty tits, baby," Tommy praises you while his warm hands are gliding up and down your thighs.

"Would look even prettier with my cum on 'em," Joel mumbles as he takes your nipple between his fingers and twists it. You whimper and they both chuckle.

"Thirsty little slut," Joel comments and then tells Tommy to take your panties off. The younger brother hooks his thumbs under the waistband giving you a smile, pulls your soaked panties down and slides them off your legs. He tosses them on the floor and pushes on the insides of your thighs, opening you wider.

The men leer at your glistening pussy and the atmosphere in the room shifts. The air gets heavier, thicker as their blown and hungry eyes take in every inch of your exposed body. They are fully driven by instinct now. They caught you and it's time to devour their prey.

Joel grumbles, “Look at this sloppy cunt, Tommy, she’s been soaking my bed all this time”. 

You want to close your legs but Tommy holds them open, asking with a smirk, “Do you like being handcuffed so much, or does the humiliation turn you on?”

“I think her cunt’s getting ready to be pounded by two big cocks,” Joel rumbles. 

“Remind me sweetheart, what were ya doin’ to me before my brother came?”

You feel yourself blushing and struggle to respond, stammering a few words “I uh…”

“Don’t act shy. Not after rubbing against me like a whore. Not after ruining this job for my cock.”

He grabs your chin with his hand, and lifts your face towards his.

“Tell my brother what you saw last night”, he asks, his piercing eyes fixed on you.

“I…saw him having sex with a woman.”

“Having sex?” Joel smirks.

“Fucking a woman” you correct, as you look at him defiantly this time.

“No shit! Liked what you saw, baby?” Tommy asks.

You can't help but shiver thinking back to the images from the evening before, thinking that you're going to be fucked the same way as her, and you feel your pussy clench.

“Did you touch yourself, watching my brother fuck her?”

There's no point in lying now, and you answer "yes. Yes I touched myself. Till I came.”

“Oh…such a bad girl” Tommy sneers.

Joel finally releases you from the handcuffs, takes off your hoodie and bra, and Tommy moves to the side of the bed. Joel turns you around, making you lie face down. You’re clenching your fists at your sides, breathing heavily, waiting for what they’re going to do to you. The bed lowers under Joel’s weight, and you feel his bulge in the hollow of your ass, and his mouth at your ear.

“Did you enjoy turning me on? Playing with my cock and my nerves?” He presses his crotch harder against you and you can’t help but moan hearing his words, and feeling his body against yours. He slips his hand between your bodies and you hear a zipper. The next moment he nudges your entrance with his fat tip, barely pushing in.

“Oh fuck!”

“Don’t act surprised. You know I have a big one. Did you imagine taking it in your cunt? Your mouth?"

When you don’t respond quickly enough, Tommy intervenes “kitty, come on. We already know you’re a slut. Be a good girl and answer him.”

Joel pushes his cock in a little deeper and you exclaim, “Yes! Yes I imagined you fucking me, damnit.”

“You’re so fucking wet…” he thrusts in slowly, and you can’t help but hold your breath. You feel your walls parting, just how you imagined, and you gasp.

“Fuck, this cunt is so tight, Tommy…I don’t know if I’ve ever fucked a hole this tight.” He grabs your hair with one hand, one hip with the other one, using it as leverage every time he thrusts in, deeper each time, until he bottoms out. He sighs, staying still, "so darlin', is it what you hoped for?"

“Don't stop please, move, move… You’re… fuck. Your dick is too fat.” He chuckles in your ear, hearing you. "I won't move unless you answer me."

“Yes, fuck…yes!”

He smiles and places his forearms on either side of your body, pulling his pelvis back before thrusting deep. Every movement makes you suffocate.

“Mmmm you take it so good, sweetheart. Remember, when you wanted me to be a good boy, earlier? Am I?” you hear a smirk in his tone, now that he is using you like he pleases. He keeps pounding you against the bed, and you can’t even answer him. Not that he wants you to.

You look to the side at Tommy, his eyes fixed on the two of you, his hand slowly stroking his cock, and damn, he's almost as big as his brother. When he sees your gaze on him, he smiles, saying “Oh, baby… wondering how you’re gonna manage to take our cocks. We’ll make them fit, don’t worry.”

Joel is thrusting in quickly now, his mouth still close to your ear, his grunts turning you on even more. He slows down, then withdraws. You feel empty and whine, and he spanks your ass.

He gets up, tucks his cock in his jeans, and says “bring her here” to his brother. He walks towards his desk and pushes everything carelessly to the side with one hand. Tommy grabs your arm to help you up, lifts you by the thighs and you wrap your legs around his waist. Your pussy comes to rest on his crotch, and you moan again. He grabs his cock and slides it directly into your entrance and your pussy clenches on it. The position allows him to pierce you so deep you gasp.

​”Yeah, baby, just like that. My brother was right, you're fuckin’ tight.”

He takes the back of your neck in his hand and kisses you, his tongue seeking yours hungryly. His perfume smells of violets, cedar and patchouli, and it intoxicates you. He carries you to the desk, keeping you pressed down on his shaft, still kissing you, and then sits you down on it. He moves away pulling out of you and Joel takes his place between your thighs, placing his hand on your pussy. He pushes two fingers in, eyes fixed on yours and you moan at the intrusion. His thumb finds your clit, and rubs it in circles.

“Want that cock? Gotta earn it. Cum on my fingers,” he orders you.

Tommy takes your chin between his fingers, turns your face towards him and you two kiss again. He grabs your hand and places it against his crotch, and you groan, your tongue against his. Joel runs his nose along your cheek, and whispers in your ear “I can’t wait for us both to fuck you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you’re so hot, baby,” Tommy tells you, parting his lips from yours as your hand is jerking his cock. “You’re gonna cum on my brother’s fingers?”

“Yeah…” you breathe out, resting your forehead against Tommy’s. Soon your pussy starts clenching on Joel’s fingers and you come moaning loudly. He lets you ride out your orgasm, releasing your clit from his thumb, but pushing a third finger into your pussy.

“Okay, lay down now,” he tells you, pressing on your chest. 

Your breathing struggles to calm down, as you’re lying with your legs spread shamelessly on the desk of the guy you were supposed to rob. He and his brother already fucked you, and part of you doesn't understand how you got to this point. The other part of you doesn’t give a fuck about the plans. You wait, your gaze darting from one man to the other.

Joel finally removes his fingers from your pussy and licks them, while looking at you. Everything about him smells like a wild animal. He is dominant and calm. 

Joel spreads your folds with his thumbs, saying “Look how this cunt is drooling.”

“Damn! I wanna clean this pussy up, man.” Joel steps aside to make way for Tommy who kneels between your legs, hands resting on your inner thighs, holding you open against the table.

He brings his face closer to your pussy and spits on it, making you shiver. He smears his saliva with his thumb and you can't help but arch your back. He grabs one of your calves and places it against his shoulder, spreading your other thigh further on the table.

You bite your lip, and glance at Joel. He looks like a feline getting ready to devour a mouse and taking its time, knowing that the prey has nowhere to go. Tommy spits again, this time spreading the saliva all the way to your ass. You tense up slightly and he laughs, saying “come on, baby, relax. I see your little hole contracting. I'm sure it wants some dick too.” The tip of his tongue presses against your ring, and you bring your hand to your mouth. You didn’t consider they’d fuck you there, and you wonder if you'll be able to take one of them. They are much girthier than anyone who has ever fucked your ass.

Tommy continues to run his tongue over your ass, and pushes his thumb into your pussy. The double stimulation makes you moan and you close your eyes for a moment. When you open them again, Joel is standing next to your face, cock in hand. You gulp seeing it so close. His cock is gorgeous, but thick. So thick.

“Open”, he says, and you obey. You round your lips, stick out your tongue a little, and look at him, letting him take the initiative. He places the tip on your tongue and leans forward slightly, just enough to spit on his shaft. The saliva disappears in your mouth along with his cock.

As Joel's dick slides into your mouth down to your throat, Tommy licks from your ass to your clit, and replaces his thumb with two fingers, then three. His ring finger moves down from your pussy to your ass, and he presses lightly to get it inside. He focuses his tongue on your clit and fucks both of your holes with his fingers. Quickly, you feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, and Joel pulls back, squeezing your throat in his hand with a firm grip. He holds your throat tight throughout your orgasm. When your spasms subside, Tommy tells you to turn around, and you lean over the table, cheek resting against the wood. He spreads your buttocks and spits on your ass, before licking it again with the flat of his tongue. Joel stands in front of his brother, on the other side of the desk, and tells you, “Suck my cock. Again.”

You plant on your forearms on the desk and take him into your mouth, just as Tommy stands up and thrusts suddenly into your pussy, his thumb buried in your ass.

“Oh fuck… I love that pussy. But your ass is next. Ya gonna take it, right baby?”

He doesn't wait for you to respond, and fucks you quickly, Joel’s cock still sliding in your throat.

“Is she ready to take it up her ass?” Joel asks brushing the hair away from your face while you’re choking on his thick member. 

“She’ll never be ready for my big dick,” Tommy laughs, “but I’m sure she’s a brave girl, huh?” He slaps your asscheeks, getting your attention. 

Your whole body is sliding back and forth along the table. You feel like a fuck toy in their greedy hands and you love the feeling so much, you can’t concentrate on anything less. You raise your hazy eyes up to Joel and he smirks seeing your fucked out face. 

“Damn, Tommy, you should see her right now, the slut’s on cloud nine,” he pauses, thrusting into your mouth and adds, “let’s get her back to the bed. I’m ready to pump her full of my cum.”

Tommy immediately follows his brother’s order and pulls out of your weeping hole. His thumb leaves your ass at the same time Joel’s cock slides out of your mouth. You whine feeling empty without their dicks and fingers plugging you up and the brothers laugh at you. You feel Tommy’s hands under your arms as he’s helping you up on your feet. Your legs are trembling and you grab his shoulders for stability. He whistles seeing the state of you. “Let me help you, baby.” He takes your body in his arms and carries you bridal style to the bed. 

Joel’s already waiting for you there, his back resting against the headboard. He’s looking at you with a smirk. You hate his smug expression but can’t deny the immense pleasure they both are giving you tonight. 

“Come here, darlin’, time to sit on my cock.”

Tommy kisses your temple and places you on Joel’s lap who quickly manhandles you into straddling him, with your knees on the bed and pussy pressing Joel’s throbbing cock to his lower belly. He grabs your hips with his big hands, as his thumbs are drawing circles on your skin. 

“Got lube?” Tommy asks and Joel nodes to the nightstand. While Tommy is searching for it you drop your head and marvel at Joel’s angry tip. It’s leaking precum on his belly and absentmindedly you deep your finger into the little puddle and bring it to your lips to taste him again. You look up at Joel sucking on your digit while he’s watching you with a hungry gaze. 

“Remember what I told you, earlier? The things I would do to you, if I weren’t tied up. How I’d make you scream on this thick cock. Well, darlin’... it’s time to scream on it.” 

He spreads his legs and you sense the bed deep down under Tommy’s weight. He’s behind you, between Joel's legs now and you feel his breath on your neck, his fingers caressing your arms. 

“Let’s do it, brother,” you hear Tommy mumble behind you and in the next moment Joel’s hand lifts you as he holds his cock up. 

“Can’t believe it’s been so long since we used a fuckdoll like that…All we needed was a hot slut, and this one came to us by herself.”

You whimper at his words, and keep yourself steady by placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the steel of his muscles under your palms. He nudges your hole with his wet tip and being impatient to be plugged up again, you sink on his cock in one go. Joel breathes out with a groan and you hear Tommy’s “fuck”. You moan, feeling Joel’s cock hit your cervix and start moving your hips riding him as your walls are trying to accommodate his girth. 

Tommy presses his chest to your back as his hands snake around your body and he cups your breasts, pinching and twisting your nipples. 

“Let me fuck your tight ass, baby. I’ll be gentle I promise,” you hear his whispering in your ear and you can’t believe you agree so fast, but as if your body acts on its own you bend over pressing your breasts to Joel’s chest and resting your face in the crook of his neck. His smell intoxicates you and you continue grinding your hips against him, rubbing your clit on his lower stomach. 

“Don’t be too rough, Tommy, we don’t wanna break her,” Joel says and his neck vibrates, pressed to your lips, and you dart out your tongue to lick his skin. 

He chuckles as his arms envelop your body and he thrusts up into you making you gasp. “Ready for both of our cocks, sweetheart? My brother’s dick is getting cold,” he mumbles into your ear and you whine with need. They take it as a yes and you feel a glob of lube land on your ring. Tommy pushes his finger into your tight hole and starts working you open slowly while Joel is sliding his length in and out of you. 

Tommy’s finger leaves your asshole but is quickly replaced by the tip of his cock. You take a deep breath of air and Joel hugs you tighter, comforting you, “you can do it, darlin’. He’s big but you just need to relax. I’m sure a slut like you will love it.”

With that he tilts your head up and his lips find yours. He’s kissing you gently, holding the back of your head with his hand, while the other is rubbing your back. 

You don’t simply relax, you absolutely melt into the kiss and his embrace. Every muscle of your body gets soft as Tommy slides his tip into your asshole. 

“Yeah, fuck, Joel, she’s something else. Why do I never get robbed?” Tommy huffs as his fingers are digging into your hips. 

You’re making out with Joel, his tongue tangled with yours while his brother gradually slides his whole length into your tight ass. You feel so full with both of their cocks inside you, your whole body buzzes. When Tommy’s balls hit your pussy you moan into Joel’s mouth and your lips leave his. 

“Oh, fuck,” you bite your lip mercilessly, your breaths deep and frequent, as your pussy and asshole squeeze their cocks. “please, move!” 

They don’t make you wait. Joel starts gently thrusting up into your pussy while Tommy pulls his cock out of your ass almost to the tip and then pushes it back in slowly. You’re moaning and whimpering into Joel’s neck still getting used to the feeling of two fat cocks piercing you. 

“You’re doing so good, kitty, taking us so well,” Tommy praises you, holding your asscheeks spread for him while his length disappears in your tight hole. 

“Sit up, sweetheart, wanna see you,” Joel murmurs into your ear, and gently helps you lift your torso while they’re using both of your holes. You brace yourself on his broad chest, your nails digging into his golden skin and as soon as your chest levels with his face he reaches up to take your nipple into his hot mouth. His hand is kneading your other breast and you’re reveling in an ocean of pleasure. The brothers’ cocks in your ass and pussy, Joel’s tongue swirling around your nipple, their hands squeezing and rubbing, roaming over your trembling body. It’s so much, but you crave even more. You start moving up and down on their cocks first slowly and then with higher intensity. 

“Look at this slut, Tommy. She’s full of cock and still insatiable,” Joel groans parting from your breast and Tommy takes it as a command as he begins fucking into your ass with vigor. The ache you’re feeling is nothing against the pleasure he’s giving you and you reach back with your hand grabbing his neck and pulling him to you. Soon he’s nipping and licking at your neck as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the bedroom mixing with your moans and their growls. 

“Wanna cum again, little slut?” Joel asks.

“Cum for us, kitty,” Tommy coos at you and adds, “Fuck, Joel. Wanna bet she’ll squirt?” 

“Will you squirt on our cocks, darlin’?” Joel asks you and you moan in reply as your core tightens. 

“Shit, she’s close,” Tommy groans, fuck.. choking my cock.”

Sensing that you need a little push Joel puts his fingers on your throbbing clit and rubs it up and down. You cry out as your climax hits you and you’re shaking, squeezing their cocks as your squirt is leaking out of your used pussy. You barely hear Joel praising you “that’s it, such a good girl, coming so hard on our cocks.” They don’t stop moving and you hear lewd  squelching sounds your pussy is making.  

“Fuck, yeah!” Tommy exclaims through groans and panting. Soon they both follow you. First Tommy pumps his hot cum into your ass and then Joel erupts filling your pussy up. There’s so much cum in you it drips out of your holes while their cocks are pulsating inside you. 

When your climaxes subside, you lean on Tommy as satisfaction is coursing through your body. You’re so cock dumb you barely notice Joel’s hand on your throat. Your eyes lock as he praises you, “You did such a good job, little slut.” You give him a naughty smile, still panting.

Tommy’s hands snake around to your breasts as he gives them a playful squeeze. “That was amazing, baby. Thanks for robbing my brother,” he chuckles and then tilts your head to face him and kisses you. You’re lazily making out both still trying to catch your breath until you part from him and he pulls his cock out of you. Your asshole aches and you know tomorrow you’ll be sore but you don’t care. You get up on your knees and Joel’s softening cock unplugs your pussy. Your combined cum drips out and slides down your inner thighs. The bedding under Joel is completely soaked and you smile. 

You're exhausted and it's late. Without really realizing it, you fall asleep between the brothers. You only remember one of them pulling the blanket over your naked bodies. 

When you wake up a few hours later, it's still dark outside. You carefully get off the bed, collect your stuff, take one last look at Joel and Tommy, still asleep, and leave.

Joel wakes up from the sound of a notification on his phone. He grabs it and sees an email from bad_girl@gmail.com - 

“Thanks for the great fuck. And for the plans. You both are such good boys! And heavy sleepers;)”

******************* Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

[fractualized]

A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Batfam x GN!Bat!Reader.

Summary: Bruce had another kid in Arkham asylum that nobody knows about.

Warnings: Murder, Suicide, Arkham asylum, Reader can see the dead, Bruce being a bad father, mentions someone who can "hear God".

Part Two

~☆~

Nineteen.

Nineteen miserable years that you have been alive. Five of which you have spent in the hell hole, that is Arkham Asylum. Thrown in here with the approval of the man known as your father. The man Gotham city praises. The man who does nothing but help those around him, even going as far as adopting a group of orphans. Bruce Wayne.

You had always had an "overreactive" imagination as the people around you called it. When you were around twelve, you started having "outbursts", claiming things that weren't there actually existed, things that happened actually were caused by another being, one that only you can see.

So when your mother was unexpectedly murdered, and Batman walked onto the scene, you told him you weren't even home. But the journals your mother kept that had scribbles all about your claims made them believe it was you who killed her, only, you were believing a delusion, so you didn't remember. Of course you remember, you were out running the streets to get yourself just a scrap of food from wherever you could get it from.

The city wanted a DNA test before they threw you in Arkham, trying their best to put a face to the empty signature on your birth certificate. You could always tell your mother knew who your father was. Her dismissive attitude that presented whenever you would ask gave it away.

When the test came back and told you that you were the Prince of the city's kid, you told yourself that he's unreliable and not to be trusted. Your mother had to have a reason not to tell the man that she was carrying his child. She wouldn't have raised you in your shitty one bedroom apartment for nothing. Maybe she did tell him, and he just told her to get lost?

You just know that as he watched you get dragged away and thrown in one of the most vile places, you had decided that he was the worst thing you would ever see.

He never one visited or called. Even when the DNA came back and he was allowed a short meeting with you, he denied wanting to see you. A far different man than his TV persona.

×

"This piece goes over there.." A female voice spoke from over your shoulder.

"Thank you, Alice."

"Mhm"

Alice was a nice girl. She had shaved off brunette hair and a pair of strikingly blue eyes. There were marks that stuck to the temples of her head from years of electro-therapy. She had been a patient at Arkham years before you were thrown in. She had even died there. She had whispered a story about her time awaiting her death through her electro-therapy...it was almost the same as the electric chair.

"And this one goes here." A young male who sat in front of you pointed at the puzzle you were putting together.

Mathew. He, too, had dark brown hair and matching blue eyes with Alice. Siblings that came from the same rotten seed. He had killed himself in Arkham after he found out about Alice's death.

Nothing was really wrong with them, they had been transmitted to Arkham at a bad time in the world. The both of them were just severely traumatized and scared.

Far different than Ruby, who claims God was talking to her, but his whispers stopped when she strangled herself.

"They have brownies in the canteen today." Mathew whispered, watching you with his usually wide eyes. The brownies happened to be the only good thing in this entire facility.

"Finally, I've been waiting all week." You mumbled, looking down at the table in front of you.

"Y/N." The familiar voice of Dr. Conley spoke. "It's time."

Wordlessly, you abandoned your puzzle and left your room, following her all the way to the bare office that they would bring the catatonic patients. Your breakdown last week had landed you to not be able to leave the main building.

"Please sit." She instructed you. You did as told and reached for the sickeningly white chair that waited for you.

You watched as she took in a sigh and looked around the room. "I thought you were getting better-"

"There is nothing to recover from." You interrupted her, growing defensive. "I'll name off a patient who died here, and you can go see if you can find their papers!"

You know you should've given up explaining by now. None of them would ever believe you. "Y/N, you know that's not possible-"

"But fucking aliens are!?" Your breathing became heavy as you looked at her.

"Look, Y/N-"

"I want to go back to my room." You mumbled, interrupting her for the third time.

You could hear her sigh yet again before she tried to speak, but you only banged on the table in front of you. "I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY ROOM!"

×

Dick had been searching through Bruce's at home office for the past few hours. Looking for his adoption papers because of some stupid shit at work. With a sigh, he closed the filing cabinet he was looking in and went to go find Alfred instead.

As he approached the dining room (where he expected the older man to be), he not only found Alfred, but a giant box filled with papers as well.

"I believe you were looking for this." Alfred stated as he turned to look at Dick. "Master Bruce keeps all of your legal documents in a safer place." Of course, he was talking about the other adoptees and blood child that lived in the Manor some point in their life.

"Yeah, thanks, Alf." Dick smiled as he started sorting through the papers. The older man only nodded his head and walked off.

Alright here we go..Jason, Tim, Damian, Jason again, More stuff for Tim, a copy of his own birth certificate, Y/N L/N, Jason- Hold on..Y/N L/N?

×

Dick had loudly entered the batcave, making a b-line straight for Bruce.

"Who is Y/N?!"

"Wha-"

"Who the fuck is Y/N, Bruce?!"

Bruce let out a sigh as he stepped away from Dick, watching as his son waved a handful of papers in his face.

"Father, what is he talking about?" Damian (who just happened to be in the cave) asked.

"He has another kid- one that he's kept secret!" Dick yelled, looking over at his younger brother. He knows it's not really any of his business, but he can't help but feel angry over how you might have not even existed in Bruce's eyes. "Another ACTUAL kid of yours!" He put emphasis on the 'actual' trying to hint to you being another blood child like Damian.

"Go get ready. I'm calling Tim and Jason." He told Damian, already grabbing his phone from his pocket. Damian hesitantly got out of his seat and did what Dick asked.

"Dick, you don't have to make this serious." Bruce slackly tried to grab for the phone.

"Don't make it serious?!" Dick yelled, shocked at Bruce's words. "They're your kid?!"

"They're a murderer!"

Dick let an ebrupt laugh fall from his lips, slowly lowering the phone from his ear. "Jason's a murderer."

"B-but-"

"Damian's a murderer, Tim's a murderer, I'm a murderer!" He yelled out the last part.

The two of them continued to stare at each other for a few seconds before Dick brought his phone back up to his ear. "Yeah, Tim, I'm here."

~☆~

Hehehhe, just something I came up with. I'm going to post another ArkhamPatientBatkid!Reader later. It's gonna have a different plot and stuff, but it's just stuck in my head.

[peterthepark]

𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀̄𝐒

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, rough sex, roleplay (elf princess x knight), dirty talk, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected piv, breeding kink, brief hair pulling, creampie, wannabe game of thrones x lotr

summary: you and eddie indulge in some roleplay sex and enjoy yourselves way too much.

note: based off of this post! thank you for the cool smutty idea!

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

Your quavering voice echoes from the other side of the bathroom door, accompanied by a soft jingling of bells and the rustling of skimpy chainmail. There’s an uncertainty to your tone, a meekness and an innocence that has Eddie reeling at the newfound softness of his usually-confident and loud-mouthed girlfriend. 

“I would never stoop so low to disrespect the Princess like that.” He quips, an excited smirk tugging at the twitchy corners of his lips when the knob rattles with a click. He drops to a whisper, wedging his forehead in between the doorframe and the shut door. “Hey, I swear on my life, baby.”

“Fuck, you so owe me after this.”

“I’ll pay you in orgasms. How does that sound?” 

Hesitantly, your flustered face peeks out from the crack, hands swatting at him as he immediately tries to reach for you. “Can you at least close your eyes and let me do a grand reveal?”

“Are you trying to get me to cream my pants?”

You arch an unyielding brow, amusement dripping like honey in your next words. “But don’t you want to fuck me, my knight?” 

Silence. Utter silence. 

Now, that seems to shut him up. Eddie’s palms come to raise in a playful surrender, his plump bottom lip jutted out as he pedals back into the couch and plants himself down with a submitting, quiet thump that lets you know you’ve got him already wrapped around your little finger. 

“Are your eyes closed?” 

Impatiently, he shifts on the leather cushions when he feels your ethereal presence fill the living room, fists balled up beneath his loose tunic as filthy thought after filthy thought begins to permeate his melting brain. “Mmm, unfortunately.”

You clear your throat, rolling your shoulders back anxiously as you smooth your trembling hands down your body for one final time and properly straighten yourself out. “Okay, here goes. Open them.”

His lashes flutter wildly in awe as he stares across at you, pupils darkening and irises clouding when you card your nails through your hair, attempting your best to look all coy and alluring. Eddie’s mouth runs dry as he drinks you in — a silken skirt sits lowly on your waist, one singular rectangular cloth drapes down your crotch while your thighs remain exposed by high cuts in the rich fabric, adorned by gems and beads that run layered across your midriff. The matching bra is held up by delicate chains that connect to the elegant choker around your pretty neck, little to none left for the imagination as wispy curtains suspend down your arms and shoulders, a complete paradox to the lack of clothing on your body. 

Your skin glows despite the dim yet quirkily romantic candlelit lighting of Eddie’s trailer. Your makeup remains dewy and diaphanous while an artificial blush landscapes over your cheeks and nose, eyelids glittery and sensually droopy from all the attention your boyfriend can’t help but give you.

And to top it all of, the fucking elf ears that peek out from between your generous locks of hair.

His elven princess.

“Ser Edward?”

“Fuck, babe.”

“Ser Edward.” Your voice is firmer, steadier now that you’re able to read his obvious expressions, like the wrinkle between his brows, the hungry purse of his lips, the nervous sheen of his flushed skin as you slowly approach him — even going so far to add an exaggerated sway of your hips. “Do you like what you see?”

“I do. I… Princess…” Eddie gasps out as you swing your legs on either side of his lap to straddle him, your arms linking behind his neck as you gaze down innocently into his lust-blown eyes. “I don’t believe I am worthy. Worthy of touching you. Worthy of…” You nudge your nose against his, urging him to go on. “… of even seeing you when you look like this. It is forbidden, Princess.”

“Are you not an honorable man? Do you lack honor?”

“I am the most honorable man in your kingdom.” He tilts his head up towards you, his words spilling warmly into your open mouth. You breathe each other in, grasping at his biceps and chest desperately. “Which is why we cannot do this. I said an oath to the Gods, to you, and I cannot break it.”

You rock yourself against his growing erection, arousal building between your thighs with each purposeful roll of your hips. “I say fuck your oath.” 

“Princess Y/N…” You cup his cheek, stroking your thumb beneath his eye and hovering over his lips. “I am your sworn protector. Your guard. Your servant. Your knight. Without this title, I am — I am nothing—“

“You are lowborn.” His hand comes up to the side of your throat. You bare it to him, thrumming under the heat of his flesh as he delicately traces the outline of your jaw. “You are mortal. Ordinary. Powerless.” Eddie whines when you press your cunt down against his clothed cock, eyes screwing shut when you take his hands and cup them over your tits. “Yet here I am, making a whore of myself for my handsome knight. Please, Edward… would you do me a favor? Do me a favor and satisfy your elven princess?” 

Eddie physically shudders.

“Christ, you’re good at this.” He whispers, a serious shift in his demeanor. “Like really good. You’ve never done this before?”

A cheeky smile starts to spread across your glossy lips as you lovingly tilt your head, “Are you seriously breaking character right now?”

He snarls as he paws at your hips, dramatically bringing you flush against his chest with a curled upper lip. “If we do this, Princess… if I fuck you, you must promise me that you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” 

“Not even my closest confidants shall know.” You bat your lashes at him, gliding your nails across his goosebump-riddled collarbones as you nip at his throat with your teeth. “Bed me. Bed me like a common whore.” 

“Is that what you desire? You want me to fuck this highborne princess cunt, claim you as mine, sneak into your quarters just so you can have your way with my cock?” He rambles, pushing your hair away from your face as his thumb and forefinger holds you tenderly by the chin, forehead bumping against yours. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You cry out when he reaches for your nipple, pinching it through the bra. “Kiss me, then. Kiss me, Eddie.”

Eddie dies. Right then and there. He becomes putty in your arms, complete deadweight beneath you as he caresses your jaw and roughly pulls your mouth down onto him. His tongue works against yours, taking and taking when his palms venture down your torso, feeling for your tits, your belly, cupping your mound from underneath your skimpy skirt. “Pretty girl, I wanna see you.”

“Do you want to watch your Princess touch herself?”

“Oh, my god — yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.” 

He whines when you peel your lips away from him, a beady string of saliva connecting your hot mouths as you gracefully roll onto the couch, palming at yourself as Eddie carelessly tosses his tunic over his head. The moment you part your oiled legs, he’s fucking rushing to take his trousers off — yet you don’t make any moves to assist him, just watch your knight hornily struggle with the complicated drawstring of his breeches, not even bothering to take it off completely before he’s pulling his bare, reddened cock out for you. 

You lay back against the arm of the couch, one hand roaming your body while the other circles a finger over the wet nub of your clit. Eddie rests on his stomach, tugging on his meaty prick with a tight fist as he watches you — his breathing is uneven, his eyes wide and bright while he takes in the sight of your spread pussy, your small fingers slick with cream as you tease yourself. 

“Look how wet, my love.” You mewl, breasts spilling out from the cups of your bra. Eddie feverishly licks at his lips with a lusted hunger, the tip of his cock leaking with beads of pre-cum while you masturbate in front of one another. “S’all for you. All of it. Do you want to feel it?”

“Please?” He rasps brokenly. Only then do you realize how his hips are rutting against the leather seats, his abdomen rippling with every sloppy stroke that leaves his trembling body. “I want to have your mouth while I touch you.” You nearly groan when his thumb flicks across your swollen meaty clit, his eyes glancing up at yours to take in your pained features. “Am I asking for too much, baby? Wanting my cock in between those perfect lips?”

You nod wordlessly, your blissed-out gaze following Eddie as he rises from the couch and positions himself beside your head, lazily fucking his cock with his own hand before he’s feeding it to your mouth. “You’re so big…”

“Am I? Bigger than any of these lords and kings, aren’t I?” He chuckles lowly, hissing when your throat flexes around the throbbing head of him. “Take it. God, yes — fuckin’ take it.” His voice breaks, murmurs spilling from under his breath. “This is so hot. Oh, fuck — this is hot.”

“Mmm!” Your quivering thighs threaten to shut when Eddie pushes a finger into your cunt, juices dripping down your ass as Eddie works his knuckle against your greedy hole. “Ser!”

“Baby — oh, yes… please, please, more. Gimme this mouth, fuck.” He’s fucking whimpering, his voice higher and pitchier than usual as you attempt to swallow his cock down, fighting the urge to gag when his large balls slap harshly against your spit-covered chin. “Princess, need to… need to fuck you. Put a bastard in you — fuck, you don’t know how good you feel right now, do you? Your cunt and mouth just — just sucking me in, trying to be closer and closer…”

Reluctantly, you pull off of his cock, wantonly gasping for air as tears start to prickle at the corners of your eyes. “Please. Wanna ride you. Wanna ride my knight’s cock and make you cum.”

“Such a goddamn whore, Y/N. Fuck, I don’t — don’t think I’m gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.” Eddie’s hair falls into your mouth as he reaches down and kisses you despite all the wet saliva and spit, maneuvering you into his strong grasp so that you’re sat planted atop of him. “Ride me. Make me the happiest man in the kingdom and ride me, sweetheart.”

And you do just that. Without question.

You guide his leaking, angry tip between your folds, feeling the shaft of his cock begin to stretch out the gummy walls of your cunt — the familiar burn of it, the squelch of your cum mixing together as you lower yourself down onto him, one hand braced over his pec while the other reaches behind you to keep him inside. He’s balls-deep, the bush of hair around his base nestled against your pubic mound as you start to set a pace. A roll of your hips. A slap to your ass. A muffled plea into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as you bounce on Eddie’s hard cock. 

He forces himself to look at you. Forces himself to admire the fantasy he’s made of you — the whorish Elven princess just using him for her pleasure. Forces himself to memorize the way your puffy breasts heave for him, the way your parted lips glisten with pure want, the way your clit is practically dripping from how turned-on you are.

“I love you.” You whisper, head up high and tears glimmering in your eyes as he looks to you. “I love you, Ser Edward.”

The image of your fucked-out expression and beautiful elf ears burns itself into his breeze of memories.

Fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

Hungrily, he kisses down your arms, biting and sucking and licking at your chest till you’re bathing in marks — tainted by him, tainted by bruises and hickies and god-knows-what as Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and thrusts up into you from the edge of the couch. You sob into his neck as he pulls you down by your ass, harsh and braven with his movements when you dig your nails into his muscled shoulders.

“I need to — need to cum in you. I love you. I love you. Fuck, Y/N. My fucking — fucking goddess.” He manages to grit out, nearly drawing blood from your bottom lip when he nips at the flesh. “Gonna fuck you from behind. Show you what it’s like to be a common whore. See how your kind likes it when I give it to ‘em dirty.”

You yelp loudly when he scoops you up and flips you onto your knees, wholly abandoning the couch and pushing your arched form down onto the carpet. You glare at him over your shoulder, moaning in your haze of pleasure as he parts your ass cheeks and easily plows his cock back into you. “Eddie, so — so much. It’s too… m’sensitive.”

“A spoiled princess that can’t handle lowborn cock.”

“Eddie, please!”

He suddenly grabs you by a fistful of hair, your elf ears nearly falling off as he sits back on his haunches and ferally spears his shaft in and out of you. You’re gushing around each drive of his hips, your hands digging into his inked thighs as he places his lips to your sweaty temple — a stark contrast to the way he’s violently handling your body. 

“A pretty Elf that just wants to be filled.”

You cry into his neck, babbling incoherently into him. You don’t know what you’re begging for. Begging him to stop? Begging him to go faster? Harder? Slower? To just throw all wind out the door and forget the roleplay?

“Baby…”

“Are you going to cum, Princess?” He slurs, visibly pussydrunk as his eyes start to cross and roll back into his skull. “Fuck, I’m gonna — gonna breed this cunt. Gonna watch it spill with my… fuck, with my seed. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I love you — I love you.”

The coil in your belly snaps when Eddie’s thrusts stutter.

You spasm, letting out a choked string of curses and moans and you don’t fucking know where these sounds are coming from, but it’s a chorus of sobs and deep grunts — wild and ferocious as Eddie’s fingertips dig into your supple hips and your cunt draws his milked cock deeper inside. 

“Dear god…” You sigh out, your palms gripping onto the carpet for dear life as you go boneless in your boyfriend’s arms. He catches you, a wide palm guiding you kindly by your lower belly so that you can lay against his sticky chest. 

Your eyes flutter open when he places a wet, gross kiss to your cheek. One that makes you laugh at the theatrics of it all. One that brings both you and Eddie down from your chaotic highs, easing you into a peaceful, low lull. 

“My Princess.” Eddie growls fondly into the tangles of your hair, biting at your earlobe. “I hope my service was… of satisfaction.”

You chuckle, reaching back to pet at his cheek. “It was, my knight.” 

“Did so well for me. Thank you, thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for having faith in me.”

You wince when he pulls his cock from your cunt, an uncomfortable gush spilling from you as his half-hard erection sits against his stomach. He tsks audibly at that, knuckles swiping against the slick channel oozing with his thick spend. You have to hold back a laugh when your pussy bubbles with more of his cum, the lewd noise echoing throughout the empty trailer as Eddie envelops you and cradles your head to his heart.

A content, satisfied hum leaves you as your boyfriend continues to kiss down your riddled frame, his lips tracing over the newly-birthed hickies that litter your glowing complexion, smoothing his warm tongue over the bruises down your arms.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah, babe?”

You can literally feel his smile spread against your skin.

“When can we do that again?”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

any thoughts on lilias parenting style?

I’ve long held the belief that Lilia is not the “best” or “perfect” parent in TWST, but I love that he’s so imperfect yet is willing to learn and grow from his failures and shortcomings. It’s really commendable how far he has come, especially considering that he used to be much gruffer and made claims like he never wants a child or he’s not suited to be a father and is repulsed by the very idea of it.

It’s sad to think about how, for the longest time, Lilia believed he was incapable of loving others—both receiving love and giving it in a parental capacity. He says as much to Meleanor before what could be her last stand. Bro has so much love to give 😭 and it’s so fascinating to see book 7 focus on that love between parent and child, blood be damned.

Of course Silver is the quintessential child we all think of whenever Lilia’s parenting is brought up. Silver says it must have been tough for Lilia to raise him as a single parent and with limited knowledge of human children—but Lilia still did it, and out of the kindness of his heart, for an infant who was essentially a complete stranger. However, as far back as the human-fae conflict of Briar Country, Lilia was literally throwing his life and reputation on the line for his “children”. He protected Malleus’s egg with his own body. He provided the magic that would shave off several hundred years from his lifespan to ensure that his prince hatched. He allowed himself to be chased out of the capital city but still made the time to be there for Malleus, as well as shielded Silver from the ugly truth. In modern day, we also see Lilia him imparting sage wisdom onto his boys and making efforts to help them with their own downfalls: advising Malleus on the differences between fae and humans, asking the other first years to watch over Sebek, inviting Malleus to events, reminding Sebek to be kind to his human peers, etc. Above all else, Lilia promotes understanding, and wishes for a world where all the races can live together. He leaves Silver with the same sentiments, and in him, Lilia’s legacy of love can live on.

As I said briefly mentioned before, Lilia isn’t perfect. He’s putting his own life in danger and taking the emotional brunt of the events of the past for them. He hides the circumstances surrounding Malleus’s birth, the truth behind Silver’s origins, and many other details pertaining to the warring period. In modern day, Lilia is quick to make an exit when the dark carriage comes for him, trying to save his boys the agony of a prolonged good-bye. There are also just general parenting failures under his belt: feeding babies milk through a cup (you’re supposed to use a fitted nipple, otherwise the baby could choke), not being concerned when Silver is missing + expecting him to come back on his own, general emotional insensitivity and unawareness (him laughing when Silver realized their ear shapes are different and they’re not actually blood-related), leaving Silver unsupervised in their forest cottage while he goes off to travel, taking his pranks and mischief too far (thus causing trouble for Silver, such as Endless Halloween Night), his… cooking… etc. He does manage to mend some of those issues (like having the Zigvolts help watch Silver or letting slightly older Silver housesit with the animals), but other issues like the milk in a cup persist. Additionally, Lilia can be inconsistent with his emotional awareness, as he does not realize his Halloween mischief would worry Silver as much as it did. At the same time, Lilia is overall more in tune with his son’s feelings (he’s one of the few who can read the notoriously stoic Silver’s emotions flawlessly). However, Lilia still prioritizes keeping his childrens’ eyes away from the truth and instead is shouldering the pain for them. We find ourselves circling back around to all the sacrifices Lilia has made for Malleus, Silver, and yes, even Sebek—and I’ll bet that Lilia is willing to go the distance and do more.

I actually wonder if Lilia’s “I’ll shoulder everything for you” parenting originates in part from him overcompensating for the love he never received as a child. He was an orphan taken in as a ward for his country, shunned by the Briar Valley senators for being some filthy bat with no proper lineage to speak of. He didn’t get the girl he crushed on and instead lost her and his best friend (still MIA) to the war. He was banished from the capital and loathed for his mere existence. He had things thrown at him and was chased out of cities. Lilia has experienced so much hatred and vitriol that I would not fault him if he turned bitter and sent that same hate and vitriol back. That would be the easy thing to do. But… he has also experienced great kindness and acceptance along his travels. Strangers inviting him into their homes. People telling him about their lives. Offerings of food and a warm bed. It is through these experiences that Lilia is shown an alternative: a world of love, not war. Then, upon seeing these children in need of guidance, he sees a younger version of himself in them—lonely (Malleus, isolated in his castle), lost (Silver, without his parents), confused (Sebek, about his half fae/half human identity). He knows what could become of them if he lets hate envelop their hearts. And Lilia doesn’t want what he suffered through to befall them, nor a future where the same vitriol is perpetuated. So… he throws himself into ensuring these boys have a guiding star, someone who champions empathy and cooperation between all races, at the cost of himself.

It’s fascinating to consider that Silver (the one who was most closely raised by Lilia) reflects his father’s teachings but also Lilia’s self-sacrificial behavior, even though Silver isn’t fully aware of what Lilia gave to raise him. Silver consciously believes that he hadn’t done enough to “pay back” his dad (similar to how Lilia may have taken Malleus under his wing to “pay back” his debt of Maleficia taking him as an orphan in and not being there for Meleanor in her final battle). To compensate, Silver keeps pushing himself to do things like suppress his own sadness at Lilia’s farewell party, taking physical blows for Lilia, and even believing that he isn’t worthy of Lilia’s love. I guess the sayings “like father, like son” and “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” are applicable here.

Anyway! Lilia as a father (whether literally or figuratively) will never not be interesting to me.