#GRE death

[sahkuna]

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read this far, we're fucking making out.

[fangswbenefits]

Suit Up

Summary: Miguel craves to mark you as his, but he’ll have to start slow… so he offers to build you a custom suit. For now.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Innocent and inexperienced reader. Pining. Sexual tension and frustration. Masturbation. Breeding kink.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1 (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one)

Miguel had decided he was going to build you a suit.

Not just a regular one, but an extension of his own.

He craved to have you for himself, and to have others know that. But he’d have to play his cards right. This level of obsession could easily scare someone off at first.

Especially you.

His sweet, sweet girl.

So he settled for this: building you a custom digital suit to match his.

Slowly, but surely you’d start to connect yourself to him more often.

Or so he hoped.

He found you in his lab early in the morning, sitting by the desk while taking your sweet time with a slice of watermelon.

“Good morning.”

As expected, you jolted in your seat, turning to face him.

A few droplets of juice dribbled down from your lips and chin, and eventually landing on your shirt.

You offered him a messy grin, bits of watermelon all over your teeth, but the absolute innocence of that action tore straight down to his cock.

“Oh! Miguel, hi! Sorry—” your voice came out slightly muffled, as you placed the half moon slice on a plate. “This watermelon is so sweet! Want a taste?”

His brow furrowed and he halted right in front of you. “There’s…” his voice trailed off, eyes fixed on your chin.

You immediately picked up on the implication and wiped the sugary liquid from your skin with a napkin, bringing a few fingers to your lips as well.

Miguel cursed inwardly and wondered if you were truly unaware of how suggestive all of this looked.

He slapped that thought away. No. You were too innocent for that. Your words and actions held no second meaning.

You were genuinely so fucking clueless that it only served to fuel his obsession with you.

His cock gave him a warning twitch.

He was all too familiar with those by now.

Would you be this messy while sucking him off? Would you not be able to keep it all in and eventually swallow?

He’d be fine with you not swallowing it all at first. After all, he did cum a lot. It would probably be overwhelming for someone as innocent and inexperienced as you.

“Miguel?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts at once. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for making a mess,” you said, hurriedly cleaning the desk.

There was no doubt you’d be the death of him.

Apologising for making a mess…

“Don’t worry about that,” he managed to say flatly. “I’m sure it tasted really good.”

You then smiled once more and let out a cock-twitching groan. “Oh, yes! But… why did you want me in here my casuals today?”

Right.

He moved to tap the hovering screens in front of him. “I was thinking you suit might need an upgrade.”

“What? But I built this one myself… what’s wrong with it?” you whined softly, sticking your bottom lip out.

His cock twitched again.

“I know, I know,” he reassured you with extreme ease. “But I’ve been working on a prototype of my digital suit and would like for you to test it out.”

A blatant lie.

He had just decided this the night before, after that post nut clarity had hit him hard.

How else would he mark you without you even realising?

You blinked a few times, having to tilt your head up to stare at him, and it was enough to flare his imagination.

“Really?” the excitement in your voice was palpable and he felt a sudden rush of satisfaction. “That… that would be an honour, Miguel!”

His fingers tapped through multiple files. “You’ve been helping me out a lot in the lab lately. It’s only fair that I show my appreciation.”

Your gaze wavered momentarily, broken by his genuine praise, and Miguel nearlt bit his lip from this sight alone.

“I do it willingly, Miguel. I love learning new things from you,” your eyes were back on his, and you were bearing a warm smile. “You’re a great teacher!”

He tried hard to tear his gaze away from your lips, and offered a mere nod.

You deserved more than a nod.

And your eagerness to learn from him made him feel swollen with pride. An ego booster.

It was quite addicting.

He’d teach you so much more if you’d let him. He’d teach you how to embrace your pleasure and use it for him only. Oh, how he’d enjoy teaching you how to suck his cock, or how to use your words to turn him on.

Fuck.

He would teach you all he knew.

You’d have all of him.

But he wanted you to want him the way he wanted you. No. He needed you to need him. To crave and yearn and feel the unfair ropes of despair tighten around you.

“I’ll just need your measurements,” he said, fetching a couple of measuring bands from a top shelf. “These will measure every tiny detail, so the fit is as suitable as possible.”

You nodded eagerly, lips slightly parted. He moved to grab each wrist, closing the metallic band around each wrist.

“Feet up,” he asked, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his true feelings.

You lifted one leg after the other, and he carefully clasped them around your ankles, the feel of your warm skin and proximity nearly having him bite his own lip.

“Wait, do I have be naked?”

The question caught him completely off guard and he straightened up at once. “What?”

Miguel felt more blood rushing downwards and was grateful his own suit was able to keep most of his strained erection from sight.

You broke into a nervous laugh. “Oh — I mean… you’re naked under your suit, right?”

He nodded. “Your suit becomes an extension of yourself and it should feel like a second layer of skin,” he added, extending one arm out, and allowed you to see the digital layer of fabric quickly retracting from the tips of his fingers all the way down his naked torso.

The reaction was immediate.

Your eyes landed on him for only a split second, before looking away.

For the second time that day, Miguel’s ego soared to incredibly dangerous heights.

You looked so innocent and sheepish, not daring to gaze at his incredible physique once again.

He wouldn’t hold that against you, though. You’d have plenty of time to gawk at his body once he managed to break into your mind, and make you his.

“It feels more comfortable this way,” he added reassuringly, as his suit promptly covered his exposed skin once again.

You turned to look at him again. “Oh! So I don’t actually have to be naked,” you giggled in relief.

“No,” Not for this, he wanted to add.

The height difference was starting to take a toll on his ability to focus. Having you sitting on that chair, perfectly levelled to engange in a more suggestive scenario, was enough to feel the blood boil in his veins.

He needed more.

He needed to touch you.

“Let’s boot the measuring analysis program,” Miguel took your hand in his and helped you on your feet. “I need you to stand still.”

He needed so much more than that from you, but he’d have to settle for silent agony for now.

You were visibly excited, barely able to contain yourself as a smile settled on your face, and he felt the sudden urge to praise you for being so eager and such a tease.

He tapped a few commands on his watch, and came to stand behind you, careful not to stand too close, or you’d notice his hard cock.

“Do you trust me?”

You shouldn’t…

You turned your head to the side to look into his crimson eyes, confusion twisting your face. “Of course I do, Miguel.”

… because he wouldn’t.

He rolled his fingers along the hem of your shirt, slowly rolling it upwards. His heart went into overdrive instantly and he could feel the first droplets of precum dripping down his cock.

You flinched once his knuckles brushed against your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, halting at once.

You nodded and giggled lighty. “That tickles.”

His sweet girl…

How was he supposed to endure burying himself inside you inch by inch when he couldn’t barely keep his composure now?

Once the shirt was resting under your breasts, he moved one hand to grip it gently from behind, effectively tightening the fabric flat over you. From where he stood, he could see your bra’s outline and how your breasts heaved with each breath you took.

This was driving him mad.

Your cleavage was so inviting and he had to take a step back, ensuring his erection wouldn’t accidentally brush against your ass.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take this off?” you asked.

You were so fucking sweet and innocent, and he wanted nothing more than to rip all of your clothes apart.

“Just let the program scan your body,” he said, voice strained and breath coming out in shallow pants. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied.

Such a good girl for him… his sweet girl…

He would want to ask that same question the day he got to teach you how to suck his cock.

You’d struggle at first.

But he’d be patient.

He’d probably need to come up with a serum to inject himself with to keep from exploding right away, and he couldn’t have that.

You would need proper guidance, wouldn’t you? How he’d love to have you on your knees, mouth dropped open and receptive.

His other hand was now pressed flat against your tummy and he nearly bucked his hips in response.

Careful, Miguel, he scolded himself.

Was this too much?

In reality, he didn’t need to be doing any of this for measurements, but he couldn’t help himself.

He needed you closer.

He needed to feel you shudder against his touch.

He needed you to need him.

You gasped softly once he started to moved his hand down ever so slightly, fingers nearly touching the waisgband of your pants.

“Ticklish?” he asked in a low voice.

You hummed, bucking your hips into him with a faint giggle, and he felt his cock into contact with your ass.

Oh, fuck.

He had to let go of you right away, flinching back.

You turned to eye him, worry plastered all of your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” he said right away, more precum droplets spilling out. “I think the analysis is complete,” he cleared his throat and turned his back to her, looking down to his bulge.

He wish he could set his cock free.

No.

He wish you would offer to set his cock free.

He wanted you to know and see how much his body craved yours.

“Miguel, are you okay?” you asked tenderly, moving to stand by his side, brushing his tense bicep. “We can finish this some other time.”

Was it really possible for someone to be this clueless? Was your inexperience that blinding? Hadn’t you felt his erection?

Against his will, he nodded.

He needed you gone right away.

He had to get off urgently.

“You’re overworking yourself again…”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

How he’d love to make you his and have you take care of him.

Your hand squeezed his muscles gently. “Is there anything I can do?”

Please, touch me… “No. I’ll just finish the suit and have you test it out soon.”

Your hand dropped.

Maybe if he asked you to let him fuck your hand, you’d let him. Maybe.

He’d settle for you watching him jerk off to you, at this point.

“Can I pick the colours?” you then beamed, glancing up at the orange screens. “Can I? Please?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” you chirped happily, swiping across the customisation menu on the screen.

Miguel paced quickly into a storage room to his left, groaning into the back of his hand.

In no time, he had the front part of his lower half of his suit vanish, cock springing free, fully coated with precum.

He let out a strained and breathy sigh of absolute relief.

“Ay, Miguel…” he muttered to himself, realising just how badly this obsession had gotten.

His cock twitched, sending strand of precum to dangle from the tip.

From this angle, he could see your back, shirt still nicely tucked under your breasts, revealing so much of your skin to him.

That would do.

For now.

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he set a slow pace at first, testing out his limit.

Dangerously close.

It was unfair that you were so close, yet so far. You were completely unaware of your effect on him.

Faint anger took over him.

You should be the one to bring him relief.

This was all on you… his sweet, innocent, inexperienced girl.

The pace quickened and he felt his fangs extending in anticipation.

You were bending over the desk, lifting your ass just enough for his mind to have imagining himself ramming into your from the back.

You’d love that position. Maybe not at first, but he’d teach you to enjoy thoroughly.

Being rawed and bred. You’d be a loving mother, wouldn’t you? You’d let him breed you over and over again, because you were just nice like that.

So eager to please.

He wished you’d bend over a little more, so he could fully immerse himself in his lust.

Feeling one fang dig into his lower lip, Miguel wondered how long it would take to draw blood, considering how hard it was for him to suppress his groans.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from you and his desire nearly pained him, because his hand would never be as tight as you, and it would never feel like you.

But he had to get rid of this now.

He had to complete your suit and mark you as his.

Everyone in Nueva York and across other universes would know you were his.

They would know not to cross you, for his wrath would be unmatched.

The sweet tingles of an orgasm soon engulfed him whole, and he threw his head back and fluttered his eyes shut, relying on his mind to keep your alive as he fucked himself for you.

Just you.

His sweet girl.

Just his.

He squeezed the first spurts of warm cum with his fingers, allowing himself go roll his hips in a broken rhythm.

The metallic taste of blood pooled in his tongue and he knew his fang has dug too deep, but he didn’t care.

He would break himself for you.

And you would, too.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Part 3

Masterlist

[letoasai]

dp x dc 2 Mother Gotham

 I had... zero intention of continuing this.... and i still.. have zero intention of continuing... lol i don’t know how this part 2 happened XD Please enjoy or feel free to take it   ~

Part 1      Master List  Constantine stared. 

He’d had very, very little time to learn everything he thought he needed to know about the Ghost King through his contacts and as an adult, he didn’t like what he’d heard so far. He might not be the most responsible bloke but damn it, he wasn’t okay with a fourteen year old taking on so much pressure after what was likely a traumatic death. 

He learned very little other than how young he was, how well liked he was, and how he’d not only earned the respect of many ancients, but befriended them. A good section of his contacts refused to answer any questions about him at all, stating at they didn’t want to cause trouble for the king. 

It was commendable but fucking frustrating. He had to find his boy and his sister and take them to both Lady Gotham and Batman. He’d had a headache all night. 

Constantine wasn’t a stranger to the occult, not by a long shot. He was rather the Justice League’s resident expert, but his lack of knowledge surrounding Amity Park was inexcusable. He had no idea how an entire town went unnoticed but he was going to find out. 

The amount of liminals in one place was ridiculous but he’d have to actually go there to gather more information on these teenagers. As things were, he was waiting at the Gotham welcome Center at the appointed time and was always startled by the amount of activity there. People coming and going. Gothamites were unfazed by the gloom of the city and newcomers were often transfixed by their first taste of a city that harbored so many curses. 

Few were able to understand that it was Lady Gotham stretching her non-corporeal limbs. 

He’d only been there an hour, and he had no description of these teenagers. He should have just asked Bruce. The man had probably somehow already tracked down everything on these kid right down to their favorite colors, but he hadn’t honestly thought he’d need anything like that. Turns out... he was right.

Constantine had just lit another cigarette when the room got cold. He glanced around the room, eyes zeroing in on a hooded figure, a NASA logo printed across the front. He slid up to a vending machine, pushing a dollar in and punching in the numbers for whatever snack he wanted. 

The kid was so unassuming. He could have been any random teenager. The strangest thing about him was that he had a thermos dangling off his belt and stars had been drawn on his shoes in what looked like marker. 

He bent to pick up his snack, but when he turned, he was already pinning Constantine with a stare. 

He wasn’t used to a kid being the one to pick him out in a crowd, but this one…well… Constantine wasn’t about to question his qualifications as royalty. When Constantine did nothing, the teens head cocked to the side in confusion. It was a far too long moment where they did nothing but stare at one another from across the room. 

The staring contest was broken when a red headed young woman exited the nearby bathroom and slid up behind her brother, a hand on his shoulder and a question on her lips. She was definitely liminal, and not as human as they both likely had been once. Not that that mattered to him. It was just one more piece of information to file away for later. The Ghost King silently nodded in his direction, and now there were two piercing gazes in his direction.

 There was something about the sister he couldn’t put his finger on but it would be a bloody cold day in hell before he purposely pissed her off. She was definitely the type to be her brothers keeper, and someone with that kind of sway over the Ghost King was no one to fuck around with. 

He inhaled once more, enjoying the smoke filling his lungs before he hauled himself off the bench he’d been occupying to head towards them. 

“Welcome to Gotham. I’m your one man welcoming committee.” He greeted.

 “Who sent you?” The redhead asked. 

“Got a name?” The Ghost King asked right after. 

They were paranoid, but he didn’t blame them for that. Whatever had them running likely wasn’t friendly. The boy's eyes were rimmed with dark circles and there were bruises along his jaw and neck. His sister wasn’t injury free either. She was holding one of her arms to her chest. Possibly a dislocated shoulder or elbow. “John Constantine. Member of the Justice League Dark.” 

He never would have introduced himself like that normally but he was dealing with a King and well... spooked kids. 

“Dark?” The brother and sister exchanged a look. 

Constantine grunted. “We deal with the magical nasties and what not. I was summoned to Gotham to greet you, Majesty.” 

The Ghost King didn’t wince, but there was a tick to his jaw.  “Danny.” He corrected. “This is my sister, Jazz.” 

“Who was it who summoned you?” Jazz asked, her good arm wrapped around one of her brother’s. 

Constantine nodded to Danny. “His mother. Dunno your full story, but i was led to believe this was your actual mother.” 

Danny’s lips pinched. “That is what Clockwork said…” He muttered to his sister who nodded, though she didn’t look overly trusting. 

“And you have no connection to the GIW?” She bulldozed right through. 

Constantine’s eyes narrowed. “Bloody fuck is that?” 

They exchanged another look. “The Ghost Investigation Ward.” 

“The fuck?” He inhaled again, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth. “What’s their problem?” 

Danny’s brows lowered, a soft, quiet, and mostly certainly deadly sort of anger in that look. “Hunting and experimenting on my people for sport.” 

Constantine tsked, but it did nothing to truly betray how pissed off that made him. “Sounds like a couple of pretenders messing around in my neck of the woods. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be looking into that.” He paused to pull out his cell phone and make a note of them. “No, I’m a right bastard for sure but meddling with the Infinite Realm is a major no-no.”

The Ghost King’s ire lessened somewhat, but the faint glow to Jazz’s eyes hadn’t yet waned. “Why were you picked to escort us?” 

“Probably because i’m one of few around that could hear the call. Your mother has been making arrangements for the both of you. I’ll take you to her first and then to where you’ll be living.” They weren’t a very trusting pair, but he had to assume they had every reason to be cautious. 

Danny finally heaved a sigh and took his sister’s hand. “Fine. It’s a leap but only a lunatic would claim to be in the Justice League when they weren’t.”

 Constantine didn’t react to that, he didn’t want to worry the kid about how many lunatics there actually were. The laugh he’d have over this kid looking like Wayne adoption bait would have to wait. 

“Besides, one wail will take out a good chunk of Gotham, so i’m sure you won’t do anything stupid.” Danny continued. 

“Noted…” Constantine said dryly. He was getting shitfaced tonight. 

~

 Danny rather liked Gotham. Sure he’d barely seen any of it but the ambient ectoplasm was more than enough to sustain him. There weren’t many people who could say that kind of thing energized them but Danny sure could. Jazz could to a lesser extent. It was almost like home, except hopefully less volatile. 

Constantine showed them to his car that smelled like alcohol, cigarettes and magic and took off with them. He didn’t even seem to mind Danny opening and eating his bag of chips. He knew Jazz wasn’t in a trusting mood. He wasn’t either but Clockwork had told him bits about his mother. Had told him to follow his core and he’d find his mother. So far… he was satisfied with the direction they were headed. 

He stifled a yawn but tired tears sprung to his eyes anyway. He had no idea what time it was anymore. Gotham was so dark but there were people out on the street. It could have been noon or midnight and he was too lazy to even pull out his phone and check. It didn’t matter when his master plan was to get himself and Jazz somewhere safe and then sleep for hours. 

When Constantine finally pulled his car to a stop and got out, it had started to drizzle just a little. It wasn’t enough rain to even really get them wet, it was just vaguely annoying. The streets were startlingly vacant compared to the ones they’ve driven passed before and this was obviously an older section of the city. 

Having just arrived, Danny and Jazz didn’t know all the districts in Gotham yet but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this wasn’t main street. Constantine headed towards an old bridge, pieces of it having crumbled away from age but the architecture had obviously once been top tier. 

“Where are we?” Jazz asked, keeping close to Danny, her voice only just above a whisper but Constantine heard her. 

“The meeting point.” 

Danny frowned, but he held out an arm to keep his sister behind him. His core fluttered in his chest, and he recognized that something was coming. He tried to pinpoint exactly what it was but the feeling was something altogether new though it reminded him of Clockwork or Pandora. 

With a gentle wave of power, she appeared. A woman, cloaked with gargoyle like features. She could have been made of stone but she approached them cautiously. “Daneil.” She whispered, and he felt her voice wash over him with emotion. Pride. Pride. Pride. Regret. Pain. Joy. 

Confused. Relaxed. “Was that my name?” he asked. He’d been so terribly small when the Fenton’s had caught him but he could see how his name could have gotten twisted around at some point. “Are you…?” 

Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. 

“This is Lady Gotham.” Constantine said, probably for Jazz and Danny’s benefit. 

She moved, fazing in and out of existence and stopping just out of reach. “Son…” she whispered, the emotion nearly dropping him to his knees. All of her attention was on him. When was the last time he’d had that from a parental figure? 

Danny stared back at her, her green eyes so familiar. He reached up to touch his cheek under his own blue eyes. It was a wonder she could even recognize him. Sure he felt the same but he was half human. Half alive. That didn’t matter to her? 

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. 

Danny exhaled shakily, falling into his shift. The rings of light circled around his middle before spreading out and revealing his ghost half. White hair topped with a black crown and green eyes matching the spirits. 

Constantine cursed softly under his breath, taking several steps away. 

“Oh, don’t be a wuss.” Jazz chuckled. “He’s not after you.” 

“Not taking any chances with all that,” he said. 

Danny couldn’t help his faint smile at that. “Daneil.” Lady Gotham reached out slowly, cupping his face. She didn’t feel like stone for all she looked like it. She was cool to the touch and he wondered what her core was. She felt familiar. Like he’d met her before. That made sense if she were his mother but after all this time, there was this connection that clicked into place.

 I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Lost you. Lost you. 

Here now. Here now. “It’s okay.” Danny muttered, barely even registering that the bruises on his face were disappearing. “It’s not your fault.” He dared to move, stepping into her space to hug her. She trilled in affection, holding him tightly while Danny chirped his automatic response. When was the last time Maddie had hugged him? 

Jazz could make him purr or chirp in affection but had his parents ever? He’d known Lady Gotham for all of a handful of minutes and already he felt safe in her haunt. It was far safer than his in Amity. 

Welcome. Welcome. Missed you. Missed you. “Daneil.” She said his name like a prayer. Voice quiet but filled with affection. 

“Guess i’m staying here for a while.” He muttered, his core humming. He pulled away from the hug, silently wondering if he’d ever grow horns or something like Lady Gotham when he glanced back over at his sister. She was waiting patiently, still cradling her arm. He’d managed to pop it back into it’s socket but it was terribly tender. “What do you think?” 

“I’m staying if you’re staying.” Jazz said simply. 

“Good child.” Lady Gotham whispered. She vanished from in front of Danny and reappeared next to Jazz. Thank you, Thank you. Thank you. 

Jazz couldn’t always make out the words in emotions but she felt them all the same. Her smile was warm. “He’s my little brother. I love him. I had to come along.” 

She hadn’t. She could have lived a normal life. She could have left him behind. She didn’t have to act as his shield when their parents found out about him. She didn’t have to but she did. She’d never abandoned him. 

Welcome. 

“We’ll figure it out, Jazz. Promise.” 

Lady Gotham reached slowly, taking Jazz’s hands. Thank you. Her immense power shifted again and Jazz gasped in surprise. Danny raised a brow but grinned at the drop of Gotham’s power that flowed into his sister. It sped her healing up, taking away the ache in her arm. He guessed Jazz would become a stronger liminal than she already was. 

Constantine cursed again. “This just doesn’t happen…” he muttered. 

Danny could tell though, his mother was amused. 

“Jasna.” Lady Gotham spoke clearly, pleased with herself. 

“Wait… what?” Jazz looked confused, trying to read the emotions that were being sent to her. It was a mouthful, and amounted to… The sister of my son is also mine. 

“Renamed by an ancient…” Constantine was shaking his head, pulling out a flask from his jacket pocket. Names were powerful… you couldn’t just hand them out… But he was not about to argue with Lady Gotham. 

Danny snickered. “You can still keep your nickname, Jazz.” He felt… calm. He was happy to be here. He liked Gotham because it was safe and his mother was here and everything suddenly felt like it would be okay after all. He and Jazz could start over. 

“Jasna…” Jazz repeated, testing it out. “Thank you.” After everything that had happened.., she could use a mother figure.

Lady Gotham seemed so satisfied. She turned back to Danny, hugging him again, even the wings on her arms fluttered with delight to have her child back. 

My son. My son. 

Danny smiled, wondering if it was like this for all ghost children when their parents were near. He’d have to call Ellie and have her swing by to see if she felt the same way he did. “We’ll figure everything out…” He paused and looked back at Constantine. “You were taking us somewhere else too?” 

“Yeah.” He was flicking his lighter on and off, likely considering another smoke. “Lady Gotham is entrusting you to someone who will also have a hand in keeping you safe. She hand picked him and everything.” 

“We just need an apartment… and…” Jazz frowned a little. They’d talked about it a little and Danny had hated the idea of his sister giving up on school for even a week. 

“Not necessary.” Constantine said dryly. “You’ll be fine.” 

“Where…are we going exactly?” Danny asked, looking at his mother again. He was so strangely pleased that they had the same eyes. 

She laughed, actually laughed. He felt her excitement in her bones. She pointed up into the air and only a few beats later, the bat signal was spread across the sky, glowing against the smog and clouds. 

“That’s…” Jazz blinked, who could have planned for this? 

“No way.” Danny stared at the glowing signal. Everyone knew what that meant. He looked to Constantine again who only nodded his confirmation. His mother was still laughing, enjoying the moment. “We’re staying with Batman!?” ~~ ~~

I really didn’t intend to continue this, i’m not sure it’ll happen again. I have no confidence in writing for the Batfam. If anyone is interested, go for it. 

Tag list. 

@meira-3919 @choppedphantomsweets @kisatamao @thewondersoflebanon @emergentpanda-blog @epilepticnerd @paroovian @blep-23 @addie-lover-of-stories @phoenixdemonqueen @bianca-hooks123 @crystallicedart @observethevoid @jaytriesstuff @skulld3mort-1fan @icedbluesoul @rosecinnamonbun @nixthenerd @oterion @lexdamo @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @villian-lover7899 

[h3llenwrites]

Jealous! Alastor x reader?

Didn't know how to start this req but now I have somewhat of an idea what to do

Jealous!Alastor x reader

-Let's say Mr. Crazy deer overlord got jealous over (Name) talking to Vox

It was another day in hell and Alastor had spotted (Name) leaving, without telling him. 'Quite unusual.' He thought before shrugging and continuing his activity before. After a while he got curious on where (Name) went, so naturally he went out to search for them. After a bit of strolling around, he spotted them talking to Vox. Well, listening to Vox as he spoke. TV boy was babbling about random things to them, while they just listened to him. Alastor glared at Vox, who didn't notice the death stare that was gazed upon him since he was so busy chatting away. After a bit, Alastor debated what to do.

- It's either he walks off to Cannibal town or back to the hotel

-Or he drags (Name) away from salty modern technology guy.

If he chose to walk off and wait for you at the hotel,

The Radio Demon turned around, marching back to the hotel. He let the time wander as he waited and waited until (Name) got back. As soon as they return, he stood in front of them with that wide signature smile plastered on his face. "Oh, hello Alastor!" (Name) waved at him while greeting the demon upon their return. He waved back, instantly interviewing them. "Hello, My dear! How have you been?" Alastor asked (Name) as they walked up the stairs. "I've been gre-" "Splendid! What did you do outside today?" "Not much, I just stopped by to greet some friends." Alastor intently listened, his smile getting wider to hide the fact he was a little upset. "And who might those friends be?" "Oh just (Friend #1), (Friend #2) and Vox" "Ah, you've befriended that demon who makes modern technology?" "Yea, he seemed like a nice guy." "I see.. Well, he (insert embarrassing/Terrible thing Vox did to Alastor). But, I don't mind the two of you being pals!" "Oh gosh, are you sure? You seem upset about the situation.." "Now why would I be upset? You, darling, have made a friend! And it's extremely difficult to befriend anyone in hell."

-Little shit will guilt trip (Name) into unfriending Vox

-If he walks off to Cannibal town he'd rant to Rosie about the whole situation

"Can you believe him? Interacting with them, He's already pathetic but now he's asking for a death wish. Ugh!" Alastor spoke as his ears went down. Rosie just shakes her head and agrees with him.

-Now what if the radio demon dragged them with him?

"That's great, Vo-" (Name) nodded before yelping at the feeling of somebody grabbing them and walking off. Vox was screaming behind the both of them as Alastor walked off. "Al! Why did you do that?" He simply hummed and continued to walk with (Name) in his grasp.

(A/N: Can't tell if I like this or not, Still laying in bed rn melting away because I'm not allowed to turn on a fan or the A/C :(

[whenicarusflies]

what if, centuries after camelot has fallen merlin realises he doesnt remember what arthur sounds like, what he looks like. what if merlin stops aging after arthur died. what if, the first time he saw a gre hair, or a wrinkle he realises arthur came back and he didnt notice. he didnt recognise him. what if merlin looks for him and realises he died for a second time without him even knowing he came back. what if merlin could have prevented his death if he was there

[magicpiano]

AU where Von Karma kills Miles instead of Gregory

Manfred Von Karma just got a dent in his perfect record. Gregory Edgeworth almost took away the thing that mattered most to him. Isn't it only fair that he destroy what matters most to Gregory in return? Besides when that elevator opened it became obvious that the child was the one to shoot him in the shoulder. Turnabout is fair play, right?

So Gregory lives, but his son is dead and despite being the only possible suspect, Yanni Yogi gets away with it. His son's murderer walks free, so Gregory quits his job as a defense attorney. It is hard to believe in what he does anymore.

His life is mostly quiet— lonely. He doesn't really talk to his friends anymore. He doesn't do much of anything anymore. He does some kind of boring law work, like property law or contracts or something and everyday he goes home to an empty house.

Until one day he gets a call from his dead son's best friend. You see Phoenix Wright has been accused of murder.

Phoenix lost his taste for defense attorneys when one got his best friend's murderer off, and somewhere along the line he decided he wanted to become a prosecutor. He wanted to be the best prosecutor so that no guilty party ever got away with murder again. That goal led him to the court house one day, and led him to meeting his current girlfriend. Then it led to a murder accusation.

No, Phoenix doesn't quite like defense attorneys, but... He still remembers how Miles saved him that day. He remembers how Miles talked about his father the same way he talked about the Steal Samurai. Like he was a hero. And right now, Phoenix really needs a hero. Who else would he trust with his life?

Gregory hasn’t defended anyone in years. He is out of hope and out of practice, but Phoenix won't accept anyone else. For all that he has given up years ago, he can't let Miles' friend down. Because Phoenix is one of the only people still alive that remembers Miles— that still cares about him. Because in all the pictures where Miles was smiling the brightest, Phoenix was next to him. Because Miles thought Gregory was a hero. He isn't. He couldn't even save his own son, but maybe, just maybe he can save his son's friend.

But you see this girl named Mia Fey really wants this case. Phoenix might not want her as his defense attorney, but that won't stop her. She is going to be Gregory's co-council on this case whether he wants her or not.

And they win of course, but Gregory nearly has a heart attack when Phoenix eats a glass bottle of poison because he can't lose him too— But he is fine. Heartbroken, but fine. And Gregory had saved him.

For the first time in years he has a purpose again.

Mia has a case she is working on, and wouldn't you know it, Gregory is actually kind of involved. So she leaves her job with Grossberg and joins Gregory as he restarts his defense agency.

He starts taking cases again— he starts helping people again. He reconnects with the friends he has been ignoring for years, like Ray. He helps Phoenix study for his law exams. He researches that case with Mia. He starts to live again.

Mia is researching a dangerous case, a long history of blackmail and extortion. If she didn't have help it would have taken twice as long, if she didn't have help maybe she would have died. But she did have help. Gregory wasn't going to let anyone use his son's death as a weapon to hurt others, including the Fey family's reputation.

They find their evidence, press charges and wouldn't you know it, they have a prosecutor on their side, one who is not afraid of Redd White’s threats. Working together, Phoenix wins the case and gains a lot of fame for it.

(And when Larry is accused of murder, Gregory takes that case too, all the while laughing at what troublesome friends his son had.)

All of this is a problem for Von Karma, because Gregory is a very good defense attorney. Phoenix might have been the one to prosecute Redd White, but Von Karma knows where all the evidence came from.

Gregory wasn't a problem when he was depressed and not practicing law, but now all of a sudden he is gaining a name for himself again. He took down Redd White. He is winning cases and someday they might just face off against each other again. And if Von Karma isn't careful, Gregory just might win.

Gregory is the one person capable of beating Von Karma which is why he needs to be dealt with.

Maybe Gregory should have ignored a letter from Robert Hammond, but how could he? The man got his son's murderer off the hook! And so Hammond dies, and Gregory is arrested, but things don't turn out how Von Karma thought they would.

Gregory has a lot of friends who all help him investigate, and Mia has learned a lot under Gregory, and Phoenix has been running around looking for files from the prosecutor's side, and Gumshoe likes Gregory way more than Von Karma and helps in any way he can, and Ray has been doing everything he can to help too. Because while Von Karma has a legacy of victory, Gregory has a legacy of love.

And when Von Karma is arrested for Miles Edgeworth's murder, Phoenix turns to him and promises to be the prosecutor for his trial. He became a prosecutor because his best friend didn't get justice, but he isn't going to let that happen a second time.

It is not a happy ending. For Gregory, the only happy ending would be if his son was still alive.

But he has a reason to live again. There are always bad days, but he has friends who won't let him wallow too long. Every day he helps people, and when he visits Miles' grave he finally has stories to tell.

Phoenix is talking about routing out corruption in the prosecutor's office. For all that it sounds like an impossible task, Gregory thinks Phoenix might even be able to pull it off.

Miles used to think his father was a hero. Gregory isn't that, not by a long shot, but... He hopes he can be half the man his son believed he was.

[m3rricat]

Immortal Coil

Wyllstarion oneshot. It is midday and Astarion rots in bed in his luxurious apartments. His mind is trapped, stuck on his strained relationship with his immortal body. Enter Wyll, to offer what comfort he can. Set post-game with Spawn Astarion and Duke Wyll.

(note that the lack of quotation marks around dialogue is on purpose; experimenting a bit here)

Rating: T

Pairing: Wyll x Astarion

Word Count: 1937

Read on AO3

_____

It’s not like Astarion wants his body to have kept the whole score.

He doesn’t actually want to forever be a flayed, disjointed doll with his stilled heart pried from his ribs, presented to him with a sallow smile.

But to have had every bit of it erased, every time? Every incision made with awful care, every rent in skin and muscle and bone made in rage? It all evaporated in the end, like the morning dew, like it never-

Oh, this is ridiculous. So often when it is too quiet for too long and his thoughts break their tethers, he circles around and around this foolish notion.

But he goes on gnawing at it. What he would be now if the whole of him had been born anew each time. If the horrors had not stuck in his brain like knives.

If he was only as perfect as his body.

This body. It is his everything: his currency, his pride, his value. He is a virtuoso in its uses. But it has always belittled him. It has glossed over every hurt that haunted him and made it feel a lie. Destroyed the hard evidence that would prove his suffering, prove that he shouldn’t be ashamed for the tears, the howls, the never-ending fear. Even now, this body silently chastises (stand up straight, boy) while memories threaten to burst out of him obscenely.

These thoughts churn as Astarion rots on his bed, arms hugging around his ribs, fingers brushing the back of his fine linen shirt, brushing against the exception that proves the rule: the marks Cazador permitted to remain. Infernal script circling his spine, marking him for consumption. And the marks on his neck, too: the two punctures through which his master had stolen his natural life.

He had said such brave words in that ritual chamber about being more than what Cazador made. But, in the end, this body is Cazador’s. Had always been Cazador’s. And even though Cazador has since become a burned-out carcass, still he clings to Astarion’s immortal flesh: his greatest gift to his errant son. Are you not grateful, boy?

Astarion lies on his side, still as true death, draped across the made bed as he watches from somewhere outside of the body that haunts him. He sees his surroundings: his lavish bedroom in this lavish palace, heavy velvet curtains drawn over the tall windows. Slivers of light shine between them. Their slant tells him it is mid-afternoon.

Weeks ago, now, when Wyll ascended as Duke in deserved pomp and circumstance, he had cautiously asked if Astarion would prefer rooms out of the sun; after all, there were nice apartments in the underground level. Astarion, who had been feeling so easy and gracious that day, reverted back to a grasping, snappish creature. No. He may not be able to walk in the sun quite yet, but he wouldn’t be shoved underground again. Not ever. Embarrassment at his outburst had risen in him like a sickening tide. He feels the echo of it now. But Wyll had only smiled warm as summer and said, of course, and placed Astarion’s apartments right across from his own.

As Astarion’s mind spins endlessly, the body weighs heavy on the gold-embroidered bedspread. Maybe it will sink down to the cellar despite his shrill protests. Sink back to where it belonged.

Astarion has never really managed to escape from under the Szarr palace, anyway.

Because, though his mind is not caught out of time like his body, it still refuses to move forward. A sludge-filled, unchanging mire. Today, particularly, there is no good reason for his sulking: there is to be a ball tonight. Lavish events are a favorite pastime of his, now that he is on Wyll’s arm. He relishes watching the great and ridiculous from his safe perch where no one can touch him. Not like before.

Fangs grind on fangs, catching the inside of his lip as his mind fills with depraved leers, laughter, searching hands passing him around to-

Astarion is tugged back to the present by soft footfalls outside the door. Right on time. So reliable, his Wyll, he thinks testily as he shudders against the touch of memory.

The knock comes. Three strokes.

He can simply call out a refusal. But if Astarion says nothing, Wyll will assume he is asleep and enter. This arrangement had been reached one evening in whispers abed. Wyll wanted to see Astarion in the daytime; the nights alone were not nearly enough. Astarion had slyly said that he did not blame Wyll in the least for his insatiable appetite. Then came the softly serious reply: I don’t wish to disturb; I only want the sight of you. More than their physical exertions, this had made Astarion turn as deep a pink as the blood in him allowed.

Astarion curls in on himself tighter. He has only to say something. And he should, for Wyll’s sake. To keep the one he loves well away from his wallowing.

But he lies still and silent. So the door handle softly clicks. Hinges swing, whisper-quiet.

Astarion is turned facing away, but he can picture it perfectly. Wyll padding in soft leather shoes, enveloped by the eternal twilight of the room. His formal jacket is cast off somewhere, shirtsleeves pushed up and neck fastenings undone, baring his collarbones.

Slowly then all at once, the scent of his lover crests over Astarion. Oh, the slight spice of Wyll’s sun-warmed skin; it makes his eyes squeeze shut in longing. Another saccharine notion that Astarion had tried not to scoff at when Wyll suggested it—him soaking up the sunshine to bring to Astarion in his chambers. In this moment, however, Astarion wants nothing more than to press into Wyll and bathe in the warmth greedily, from both his lover and the sunlight he brings.

But Astarion remains unmoving. It is bad enough he didn’t send Wyll away. He will not let himself drape over the man and take and take. Won’t let this body have what it wants.

I knew you weren’t asleep.

Astarion peels an eyelid open. Wyll swims into view like a vision, smiling as usual. But there is a crease of worry on his brow. You were too still, he says low. You’re troubled.

Astarion’s usual brush-off sits on his tongue. But he falters. Scrambles for something better. Then, without warning, hard words burst out instead.

I shouldn’t be here.

It isn’t often Wyll’s mismatched eyes widen in surprise. An old young man, his Wyll.

Here? You don’t want us to be in the palace? Wyll says it slow. He knows what Astarion means.

I said ‘I.’ Me. I’m not fit for you. Fit for—for a full life like this. I’m a millstone, hanging round your neck.

This isn’t the first time Astarion has flailed with doubt. But it’s the first time he’s let it out in full view of his lover. Wyll hesitates. Then, he crouches down, folding his corded forearms on the edge of the bed, propping up his chin. Eye-level and deadly earnest, as always.

I quite like it when you’re hanging round my neck, you know. Wyll’s voice has that purr to it that runs straight up Astarion’s spine. The half-lidded eyes don’t help. But the signal gets jumbled in Astarion’s thickening despair. Desire turns to distress. He buries his face in the pillow, so Wyll can’t see. It’s not Wyll’s fault he’s so broken.

Oh, no. I’m sorry. I misjudged—and the honest anguish in Wyll’s voice is too much. Astarion chokes a sob down. Still doesn’t look.

So Wyll waits. With his old-man patience he sits in the haze of discomfort, in the self-loathing that must be rolling off Astarion in waves.

Time stretches. Astarion’s distress abates, slightly. He peeks an eye out again.

What’s wrong, my love? Maddeningly soft.

You— Astarion stops. Wyll is the farthest thing from the problem. He begins again. I can’t get out of myself. Out of all the memories. I’m a pile of sucking muck. And I don’t want you spending your life trying to get out of it.

Wyll reaches out. Casually places a sword-calloused hand in Astarion’s reach. There’s no demand behind it, like he’s placating a flighty animal. Gentle as he always is with Astarion. And the gentleness grates because Astarion needs it. He loves it, the weak thing that he is. He wants to reach out and take what’s offered, twine between the warm fingers. But he holds firm. He means it, this time.

Oh, Astarion. It comes out so quiet, and Astarion hears Wyll’s heart break even quieter underneath. Two hundred years, he murmurs. All that poison. I wish I could suck it out of the wound.

You’re a fool, Astarion whispers. I am that poison.

No, you’re not. The low growling edge that came with the devil aesthetics bursts out. You’re not the muck. You’re not the poison. They’re in you. But they’re not you.

Wyll’s conviction is always a thing to behold. Astarion has even been swept up in it himself, on occasion. But here and now, he is too heavy.

I thought I had shut the memories out, you know, he says at last, staring out into the space next to Wyll. Thought I had gotten so good at tucking it all away neatly. But I’ve failed. If I had… if I had just made myself not feel, back then. Made myself forget, like this body does. I wouldn’t be like this.

Wyll tilts his head. How he can still look achingly sweet with great curving horns and those eyes and the ridges under his skin, Astarion will never know.

But if you had, Wyll says. If you had made yourself not feel. If you had been the consummate spawn, the one Cazador wanted, you would not be you.

Wyll’s eyes flicker with disquiet, with the last few words unsaid. Astarion voices them. And you would not have me, then.

Wyll glances away. Yes. But I’m not about to make your burdens about my wants.

Through his murky grief, a smile blooms on Astarion’s lips. Wyll and his want, the thing he tries to hold at arms’ length at all times.

Astarion can see that Wyll has sensed the shift. But still his lover presses on. Wyll will not be stopped when he has a point to make. I’ve always admired that about you, you know, he says. Your sense of self, despite everything. It made me less afraid of what I’d become, after what she did to me.

Praise still settles on Astarion uneasily, despite Wyll’s constant efforts to expose him to it. A thousand self-deprecating barbs spring up. With determination, he swallows them down.

He forces himself to confront Wyll’s words instead. To make himself believe this strange person who so believes in him. Who now looks at him with bare, hungering love.

Astarion levers himself up, reaching forward, past the offered hand. The pads of his cool fingers graze Wyll’s cheek instead. Wyll sighs into the touch, closing his eyes.

So, you want this mess?

I want you. Wyll’s voice quakes in his throat. He nuzzles into Astarion’s hand, pressing it firmly with his own.

The longing touch sets off a fire Astarion’s belly, burning through the creeping despair. The next moment Wyll is clambering forward, and Astarion pulls him in greedily. They end atop the bed in a tangle of limbs. Undignified. Perfect. Wyll holds him like a precious thing. Astarion noses into his warm neck, breathing in the scent of love and sunshine.

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin. 

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill. 

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry. 

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen. 

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life. 

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up. 

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure. 

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room. 

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin. 

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was. 

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon. 

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table. 

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way. 

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast. 

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours. 

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room. 

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions. 

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying. 

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace. 

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned. 

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy. 

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace. 

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up. 

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door. 

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan,  asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl. 

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly. 

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands. 

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use. 

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy. 

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one. 

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you. 

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person. 

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest. 

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through. 

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero. 

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship. 

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless. 

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim. 

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight. 

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death. 

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight. 

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails. 

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends. 

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face. 

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed. 

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her. 

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade. 

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this? 

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away. 

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry. 

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this? 

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks. 

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur. 

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it. 

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all. 

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching. 

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions. 

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up. 

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile. 

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation. 

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

[lifblogs]

A Shift in the Galaxy

Neurodivergent Tech Week 2024 Day 2: Comfort Person @neurodivergent-tech-week

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1424 Summary: Tech writes a letter to Crosshair after fleeing Kamino, a letter he will never send. Crosshair finds it after Tech's death. WARNINGS: Canon Compliant Character Death, Grief, Heavy Angst READ ON AO3

Crosshair,

I am not quite sure why I am doing this as you will never see it, but… talking to the others seems… hard. We’re always so busy now being on the run from… well, from you, I suppose. Though…

It’s not really you, is it?

I have to tell myself it’s not. I have to look at the facts, put things in order. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one doing so. Hunter is… You know him. He likes to keep moving forward, and keep moving forward, putting things behind him without analyzing, or taking another look because he has to think about his squad.

And I can’t accept that.

I can’t accept that this is you.

Things just don’t add up. They don’t feel right, like the entire galaxy has shifted its place in the universe.

Order 66 went out. That happened. And you tried to follow it. You tried to execute that padawan we were helping without provocation, without good cause.

That’s not you.

You like to sit and think, you like to act carefully, and with the utmost precision. I know you do.

It was as if part of your mind was overridden. Just not all of it.

You were harsher.

You were angrier, especially with Hunter.

You wanted to distance yourself.

You were taken from our cell.

What were you taken for, I wonder?

I suppose we never did find out, though I have a few horrible hypotheses. (Experimentation, perhaps?)

Thinking about it turns my stomach, it makes me all tense. I wish I could have done something to stop whatever had happened from happening. Yet, I believe I am supposed to think about you being taken from our cell. It is another fact to add to this complicated situation. Another fact to add to the list that suggests you didn’t actually want us taken captive, or dead. Another fact to add to the list that suggests you are not well, that you are not yourself.

I worry about myself sometimes—the inhibitor chip. What if mine activates? What will I do? And what of the others?

Will I do what you did? Will they?

Are you… still in there?

Are you alive, Crosshair?

Or is it just the Empire now?

What did they do to you?

I find it ironic that you were the person I always went to when I needed comfort. Your steady silence was supportive, a strength that I think others might overlook. I need you right now, but I need you because you’re not here. How funny is that? Though, funny isn’t the right word. This isn’t funny at all.

This is…

I am…

I am afraid.

But I hope you are okay. I hope the Empire isn’t hurting you, causing you even more harm. I hope you’re still in there somewhere. I hope you can fight this.

I miss you.

I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it, I don’t think. There’s so much else we need to discuss that conversations about you are quickly ended. And we have Omega to look after, after all. I know she barely knew you, but she seems to miss you too. I find comfort in that—in knowing that I am not alone in caring for you now. I wish you knew you were a person who could be loved, that you could accept that you are in fact a person like the rest of us, with needs and feelings. (Or are you even that anymore? I don’t have enough data to analyze the situation. I feel like I am looking at a gaping hole where evidence should be, where answers should lie. Where are the facts? The numbers? I grasp for them, but what is there to hold on to?)

I know Hunter misses you. He just won’t say it. I hope someday you can believe that he did, that he didn’t want this for us, for you. I think he has to keep going because if he looks back at Kaller, at you being taken from our cell, then he will believe he failed, that he wasn’t the leader we all needed him to be.

He still is, in my opinion. I believe Hunter is a great leader, and I know at the end of the day you carry this belief as well. Or you did. Perhaps, somewhere in there…?

On Kamino we had had difficult choices to make, and we’d had to make them quickly. You have to understand, we could not have stayed. Not even for you.

My heart clenches as I type these words.

I would have liked to stay for you, perhaps. But it would not have been the ideal situation. The Empire would have hurt me too, would have hurt all of us. They would have made me lose myself, like we lost you. And I do not believe in them. I cannot. I refuse to. How can you…? Can you…? No, the inhibitor chip. It’s the inhibitor chip.

My wish was that you could have come with us, that maybe we could have helped you.

Even now I am trying to collect the right data so I can build a scanner for the inhibitor chips, to—I don’t know—perhaps remove them.

Is that possible?

I hope it is.

I miss you.

I want you back.

We… we have your armor and your gear, by the way. I hope we can have the chance to return it to you someday.

I feel unmoored without you here, like there’s something missing for me to lean on. It’s… lonely, despite being around the others all the time.

Whatever you’re doing, wherever the Empire has you, I hope you’re okay.

That’s all I want.

I just want you to be okay.

And if being okay means you don’t need us anymore, then I… I will try to understand.

Just please be safe. Be careful.

The Empire is dangerous.

I fear it will consume us all.

— Tech

The words on the datapad blurred before Crosshair’s eyes, and his legs lost all their strength. He collapsed hard, sitting on a rock, breath forced out of him.

He bowed his head, putting a hand over his eyes.

And he couldn’t breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

It was then that he realized he was letting out harsh, ragged sobs, ripping right through his throat from his chest, tearing its way out of him, stealing his breath, his life.

He knew he had been Tech’s comfort person, had known since they were little cadets. And he had loved the moments where Tech sat with him, leaning against him, sometimes talking, sometimes just doing his own thing. Crosshair had never needed to say much to make Tech feel better.

To think that he had needed him, and he’d been…

Crosshair knew that the inhibitor chip wasn’t his fault, but the rest of it…

And yet Tech had thought of him, had written to him, had cared, had wanted him to know that the others cared too.

Now Tech was gone—a gaping hole in Crosshair’s life, a wound in his torso so large he didn’t know how he was alive some days.

His last memories had been of them on Kamino, of Crosshair wanting to be left behind. Why had he done that? He knew why. He’d had his reasons. And they all felt so stupid now. The time he’d squandered, the distance he’d put between himself and his brothers.

Tech had died trying to save him.

Tech had written to him.

Tech had cared.

And Crosshair had thrown that all away, had shoved Tech and his family so far from him it was like they had been in different galaxies, separated by his own actions, his own feelings. His own idiocy.

Crosshair had made Tech need him, and he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to comfort him.

For one devastating, fleeting—perhaps cruel—moment, Crosshair thought he could feel Tech leaning against him, could feel Tech seeking comfort from him. Then it was gone. He was gone.

Crosshair was all alone, nothing but birdsong, and crashing waves to fill his emptiness.

He hugged the datapad to his chest, and sobbed till the world seemed to rip apart.

Tech had been right: there had been a shift in the galaxy, and now it was missing one of its most incredible lifeforms. The galaxy was a lesser place for not having Tech in it, and Crosshair worried, that he was a lesser person without his brother.

[calummss]

Reborn in Death | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: things are not always what they seem. behind a happy facade hides the horror of reality not everyone can live with; including you

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 800

a/n: i’m not putting tw just bc i want the reader in the unknown. there’s a theme of death. if you don’t think you can handle it or unsure don’t read.

‘Say goodbye to daddy, Lillian.’ You rocked your daughter on your arm, stepping into the kitchen where Thomas was smoking.

Thomas turned to you before placing his cigarette on the ashtray, his hands reaching out for Lillian’s face, her cheeks never safe from his pinching.

‘Have a good day with mummy,’ he gave her a quick kiss, ‘try not to cry too much.’

‘You’ll be good, won’t you?’ You grinned at her.

Thomas also gave you a quick kiss, reminding you to stay safe on your morning stroll with Lillian.

Lillian loved your little walks. She seemed to be more relaxed when she could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, the wind, the sounds of chirping birds when they were there.

‘We should be back in an hour or so.’ Another quick smile before leaving the door to place little Lillian inside the stroller. Tucking her in and making sure she was covered, the biting coldness of winter starting to get colder by the day.

The streets were mostly empty. The only ones that found themselves outside were the unfortunate, or workers, forced to take a shift no matter the conditions.

You took the usual route to the nearby park, trying to get Lillian to see the world for the beauty it had. Wanting her to see different things nature had created. Lillian liked ducks. You took notice of it when she started grinning at them, they’re quacks making her giggle hysterically.

The pond was not yet frozen, the water still flowing peacefully. Ducks floating above the crystal waters, their colourful feathers reflecting a beautiful ombré.

‘When are you going to tell her, Thomas?’ Polly took a drag of her black rolled cigarette, her eyes gleaming.

Thomas’ back was pressed against the wall, he inhaled the silver smoke that relieved him of his nerves.

‘You have to,’ she snapped, her voice growing louder, ‘her delusion is starting to spread across town. How will that make us look good? Let alone her.’ Aunt Pol bit her lip, her honey eyes glued on Thomas’ frame as he hung his head, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier as she continued to speak.

‘What do you want me to say, Pol?’ He glanced up, his voice the softest it had been.

‘That Lillian died and that what she is holding is a doll!’

‘You know I can’t do that!’

’You have to!’

‘I CAN’T!’ Thomas shouted back, hands sliding across his face.

Polly marched towards him, her hands trembling. ‘YOU HAVE—‘

‘SHE KILLED HIM!’ He yelled, his face eye to eye with her.

Tommy’s eyes bounced back and forth, unable to focus with the dragging noise of his heart that silently grew louder and louder as he looked at Polly’s face. The horror made him sick.

‘What?’ Her eyes somewhat softened, still wide as her heart stopped beating what seemed to be too long for her to still be alive, her hands no longer shaking. Paralysed.

Thomas’ hand brushed against his lip, turning around, pacing across the living room, his feet moving despite his wish to settle. ‘She was home alone when Kimber came here, the day we sent our men to the race. She hid in a kitchen cabinet when the baby suddenly started crying.’ His voice started shaking, just enough to tell that Thomas Shelby carried a heavy weight in his soul, every word harder to say out loud. ‘She was so scared. So scared to die. She covered Lillian’s mouth and nose to silence her. Stopped her from breathing…when they left, Lillian had already died in Y/n’s arms.’

‘Why did you never tell me?’ Polly asked.

‘Because if I told you, I would have to tell her the truth and I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it again. I cannot put her in that state again. Especially when part of it is my fault too,’ his voice grew quiet, shame washing over him like a wave trying to drown him. ‘I should never have made a move on Kimber. Never have left her alone in that house. I should’ve never done it.’

Polly opened her mouth wanting to respond but the sudden clicking of the door brought her to her feet, her arm brushing against Thomas as your familiar face appeared behind the door.

Closing the door behind you, the family portrait of you, Thomas and Lillian fell over.

‘Shh don’t cry,’ you rocked Lillian, her cries filling your ears. ‘Mummy would never do anything to hurt you. You’re safe with me, I’ll always protect you.’

Polly looked at Thomas, faced with an expression she had never seen on him, patting his shoulder to reassure him. ‘Switch it with a real baby, Tommy.’ She whispered in his ear, helping you with the stroller as you held Lillian on your arm.

Thomas smiled at you, taking Lillian into his arms from you, rushing upstairs, leaving him alone.

I stay where your calendar stopped.

[writethrough]

The Accident That Led Me to You (Part II)

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You and Morpheus finally go on that date.

Warnings: Feelings of unworthiness, fluff, mutual pining, Death and Lucienne being the ultimate wing-women

Word Count: 2542

A/N: Here it is! Part two! Grammarly decided to be a bitch today and not help me edit. Also, I don't know why I'm doing this to myself, but what about part three?

Read Part I

If the emissary and janitor of the Dreaming had gotten wages, neither would’ve been happy. A month had passed since that day in the library. You and Morpheus were still making cow eyes at each other, Matthew and Merv kept renewing their bet, and Lucienne had enough of you four. Death, on the other hand, was greatly amused by both of you.

You were a close friend to her now. Despite her compassion and kindness, she didn’t have many. She practically jumped at the opportunity your strange circumstance put you in. Not that either of you minded.

Though Death was busy frequently, she always made time to see you. Now, curled up on your couch with wine, you couldn’t help the giggles as she told you a story about a younger Morpheus.

“It’s true! He doubted me, and I had to prove him wrong!” She said it like it was the obvious thing to do.

“But did you have to steal the horse?” You pursed your lips, trying not to laugh.

She shrugged. “I had to make an entrance.”

You both erupted into more giggles.

You could only imagine the look on Morpheus’ face when all of this happened. Did his lips tug into a smirk? Were his eyes alight with amusement at his sister’s antics?

It wasn’t until Death spoke that you realized you’d gone quiet.

“So…” she drawled, giving you an expectant look. “How are you and my dear brother?”

You groaned, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

“We’re fine,” you said, taking a big gulp.

“Just fine?”

You nodded, avoiding her gaze.

“You looked cozy when I dropped by the other night,” she said.

She had arrived in the Dreaming a few nights ago to talk to Morpheus. When she didn’t find him in his throne room, she searched and discovered you and him in the library. Lucienne was off somewhere while you were shoulder-to-shoulder over a book. Death would’ve made herself scarce if Morpheus hadn’t caught movement out of his periphery. Later, when she questioned her brother about it, he said nothing was happening between you two.

“Come on, (Y/N)! When are you going to ask him out?” she whined, gripping your wrist.

“Why would I ask him out?” You pretended to be clueless.

“Because you like him!” she said, exasperated. “And he likes you.”

“Has he told you that?” You weren’t expecting her to answer.

“He literally doesn’t stop asking about you,” she said. 

“Oh.” You paused. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

She pinched the bridge on her nose. “You are both going to be the death of me.”

You snorted and couldn’t help bursting into laughter, and she soon joined you.

—

No matter how long Morpheus stood in front of his soon-to-be creations, he couldn’t seem to finish them.

Half-formed shapes and featureless bodies could not focus him. Instead, he thought of you.

What were you doing at this moment? Did you start a new book, or were you still stuck on the previous one? Were you having a good day? When would you go to sleep so he could see you? Should he visit you before you go to bed so he could see you sooner—

“My lord?” Lucienne broke him from his thoughts.

“Yes, Lucienne?” He continued to face his would-be dreams, intent to appear as if he were busy.

“Are you alright, my lord?” she asked tentatively. “You seem distracted.”

Of course, his librarian could read him like a…well, like an open book.

“There’s no need to concern yourself. I am alright.”

There was a moment of silence. Morpheus could feel Lucienne wanting to speak.

“Is there anything else, Lucienne?”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “If I may…you and (Y/N), you’ve gotten quite close.”

“I suppose,” he said, smearing a wave of hair onto one creation to distract himself.

“And you enjoy her company—greatly,” she added.

“Yes.” His reply was a bit drawn out as if he didn’t know where the librarian was going.

“It’s just…I believe she’d be happy if you were to tell her. And…”

Morpheus now fully faced her. “And?”

“And perhaps you should both stop mooning over one another and do something about it,” she said, letting a breath of her exasperation slip through.

Morpheus, shocked at her outburst, could only think of one thing to say.

“I’m not mooning over (Y/N).” His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.

“My lord.” It amazed him how Lucienne could twist his title, like she said, “We both know you’re lying.”

The look in her eyes made him divulge his hesitance.

“How could something possibly come from us? It…It could not last.” He let his gaze linger over her shoulder, recalling why they had been able to meet in the first place.

Lucienne gave him an understanding smile and took a step forward. “We both know there is no such thing as an ending. Only new beginnings. Perhaps this is one the both of you must start together.”

Her words sunk into his bones. Death had never been final—it did not signify extinguishment. It was simply a transition. One which (Y/N) somehow avoided before meeting him. But maybe that transition was taking on another form—one that could begin with a simple question.

—

You and Morpheus had just left Cain, Abel, and Goldie. The young gargoyle was rapidly growing and was ever the playful creature. Though, she tired fast, too. Goldie spent most of her time curled up on your lap, sleeping.

“Abel grows more worried each time you visit,” Morpheus said as you walked back to his castle.

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Why would he be worried?”

“He fears Goldie will want you instead of him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please, she loves him and Cain too much to ever leave.” You squeezed his arm slightly. “And besides, I can’t take care of a growing gargoyle part-time. I’d need to move in if that were the case.”

“That can be arranged.”

You stopped, your hand on his arm halting him as well.

“You’d let me live here?” You both got along well, but would he really want you invading his space?

“If you wished, yes,” he said, earnestness in his eyes.

“Would that even be allowed? How would that even work?” You were mortal. And alive. You knew Matthew had been a human, and Cain and Abel were invited by Morpheus to stay here, but all of them were technically dead.

“I am the ruler of this realm, (Y/N). Of course, it’s allowed.”

“But wouldn’t I have to die?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit worried.

He chuckled. “No, I would never suggest it if that were the case. And you’d be free to come and go as you please. I would not keep you from your life.”

“Oh.” You sighed, relaxing. “That’s reassuring. The not dying thing. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

“Good.” He gave you a gentle smile.

You stood there, taking each other in.

His eyes never left you. Usually, you’d shrink away if someone paid this much attention to you, but Morpheus always made you comfortable. It was uncanny how connected you felt to him, and sometimes it scared you. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of something more. Maybe Death was right. Maybe her brother did have a soft spot for you.

You hadn’t noticed you had returned his smile, and it was the way he glanced down at your lips that had you speaking before you could think.

“Would you want to go on a date with me?”

—

A few days later, you sat with Lucienne, trying to figure out what a date with an Endless should look like.

“Whatever you plan, he will enjoy,” Lucienne reassured you.

“But how will I even know he’s enjoying it?” You sighed, exasperated. “It’s not like his face will show it! Honestly, it’d be easier to read Moby Dick in Mandarin.”

“I’m afraid the closest you’ll get is reading it in Chinese,” she said without looking up at you.

You brushed her comment off with a wave of your hand.

“You know what I mean.”

She set her pencil down. “Yes, I do. And I also know his lordship. He would not have agreed to a date with you if he wasn’t completely interested. You could take him to watch paint dry, and he’d be happy.”

You considered what she said. It was true—Morpheus had no issue denying someone. He also seemed…content when you were around. After all, he was the one to approach you after you ran away from him and his sister.

“It’s just…I want him to have the best time. He’s this powerful entity who’s had all these experiences. What am I going to do that could ever keep his interest?” How could you ever compare to him?

“(Y/N),” she said, gaining your attention. “You keep his interest. All you have to do is share the same space, and he’s entranced. Not to be rude, but it’s why nothing ever gets done anymore. His lordship’s nearly useless when you’re around.”

“...I’m sorry?” you said, uncertain if she wanted an apology.

“There’s no need. I’m hoping once you’re in a relationship, everything will be in order again.”

“A relationship?” Would Morpheus want to take things that seriously that quickly?

“(Y/N),” she gave you an “are you serious” look, “he’s—oh, what’s the colloquialism—he’s whipped.”

—

Your biggest concern about your date tonight wasn’t if Morpheus would show up or not—no, he would never stand you up—it was if he’d like what you had planned. What kind of first date would an immortal being enjoy? Dinner and a movie seemed too simple. A museum had sounded intimate initially, but frankly, you weren’t interested in looking at anything other than him. You landed on an evening at the local fair.

It was during a weeknight, so it wasn’t that crowded. And you could snack on fair food as you walked around and talked. There were benches scattered around the grounds. And in an hour, music would play at the stadium near the back.

You told him to meet you at the front gate. You had to force yourself not to play with the beginnings of a hangnail as you scanned the incoming people. He had a few minutes before he’d be late, but he was a king. He had better things to do than go on a silly little date with y—

“(Y/N).”

You turned, and there he stood. The first thing you noticed was his smile. Though small, it was gentle, and his eyes were bright. He seemed lighter somehow.

His gaze slid down your form, and heat settled in your cheeks when he looked up again.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and if he couldn’t tell you were already blushing, he could once he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered, then cleared your throat. “Shall we?”

He nodded, still giving you that look, and held out his arm.

Once inside, you pulled him to your favorite hot cider stand.

Walking around the various vendors, you pointed out different spots you had tried and reminisced about your family and friends.

“The look on his face when she proposed was priceless,” you said, gesturing to a bench in front of a stack of hay bales. “Then he pulled out the ring he got for her as his answer.”

“They are fortunate to have found one another,” he said. “Not many can say they’ve found their love.”

“No, they can't.” You led him to the bench, needing to rest your feet for a moment. After brushing the hay off the seat, you sat shoulder to shoulder, the band starting up.

“It’s a common dream—and nightmare,” Morpheus said. Then, after a pause. “Tell me, what is your dream?”

You opened your mouth, not sure where to begin.

“I…well, after what happened, I want to try everything,” you said. “I want to travel, and explore, and…and find love.” You breathed out a laugh. “I guess my dream is to just…live.”

The look he gave you was one you couldn’t decipher. He was focused, maybe searching, trying to figure out a puzzle you weren’t aware had something to do with you.

Then, his features relaxed. “If I can help you achieve those dreams. I will.”

You blinked. There was no sign of a lie or uncertainty. He wanted to see you succeed. And before you could say or do something to embarrass yourself, you returned his question.

“What about you? What’s your dream?”

His brow furrowed as he considered your words.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that.”

“Really?” He was the embodiment of dreams—surely someone had wanted to know what the Dream Lord wished for.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ve had dreams, but now…I haven’t thought about them in ages.”

You hummed. “We can help each other then. If there’s anyone who deserves to accomplish their dreams, it’s you.”

His eyes grew wide. And just because it was so rare to see him surprised, you continued.

“I’ll be your own personal Queen of Dreams,” you teased, wiggling your fingers as if casting a spell.

He chuckled. “I quite like the sound of that.”

“Good.” You then realized a slow song was coming from the stadium, and an idea popped up. Before you lost your nerve, you stood, holding out a hand to him.

“Dance with me?” You smiled when he placed his hand in yours without a second thought.

His hands rested on your waist, and he pulled you close.

Your arms wound on his shoulders as you swayed, not noticing the glances and small smiles thrown your way.

Morpheus’ thumb grazed your side softly, a breath of a touch.

“Thank you. For tonight,” he said, eyes boring into yours.

You tilted your head. “Does that mean you enjoyed yourself?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I always enjoy it when we’re together.”

Heat pooled into your cheeks as you let out a nervous chuckle and looked down.

He returned your gaze to him with a hooked finger under your chin.

“I believe this is when I request your company for our next date. Or am I mistaken?” The slight narrowing of his eyes suggested he was trying to remember.

“I don’t think the social rules apply to us,” you said. “And I would love to.”

His smile made your stomach all fuzzy.

“Tomorrow?” he asked, hopeful.

His tone emboldened you to answer with a kiss on his cheek.

“Sounds perfect.”

—

Morpheus was in his throne room, preparing for your next date when Death arrived. She strolled in, whistling.

“So, when can I expect a wedding invitation?” Death teased.

Morpheus shook his head slightly with a small smile and played into her. “I already asked her to move in with me, unintentionally.”

Death laughed. “Your first date, and you already want to cohabitate.”

“It was before.” His reply was somewhat hesitant, knowing his sister would enjoy that information a little too much.

She clutched her side, still giggling. “Oh, little brother, you’ve got it bad.”

[katboykirby]

mc: i come to thee requesting aid for a terrible problem that hath just occurred. without you i may perish

satan: you need me to kill someone for you? of course. what are we thinking? immediate and painful or more of a death trap situat-

mc: there's a kitty stuck in a tree and i can't reach it :(

satan: GUIDE ME TO THE POOR BEAUTY AT ONCE

Satan would 100% be ready to kill for you at a moment's notice. Remember in the "Blue Spring Paradise" Pop Quiz event story, when MC asked if they were going to beat the shit out of Levi's bullies? Satan was the first one to stand up and agree with you. He was IMMEDIATELY ready to kill and maim the moment the suggestion came out of your mouth.

So you'll probably have to help him turn on the brakes first before you can explain yourself properly. He gets fired up over you very quickly, so you'll need to help him focus on the actual reason you need him before he goes off in a killing frenzy in your name.

As soon as he's calm and you explain that there's a cat stuck in one of the trees out in the garden, Satan goes into a whole new, different kind of frenzy - he's overtaken by the need to save and protect that precious, innocent ball of fluff!

He'll drop everything he's doing, no matter how important. He'll grab you and pull you with him as he runs from his room and dashes as fast as he can for the door, moving at speeds that a mere human could never hope to achieve. You're already outside in the garden of the House of Lamentation before you know it, and Satan has both hands on your shoulders as he asks you "Where is it? Show me where it's suck, which tree did you see it in?" and you point out the exact spot you had seen it, leading the way so Satan could come to the kitty's rescue.

Lucifer could hear the racket, and he came looking for you to make sure that his brothers weren't getting you into any trouble. He follows the sound of your voice shouting something, and he heads outside to check the garden, standing on the porch and staring at the sight in front of him with mild bewilderment.

You are standing at the foot of one of many trees, looking up at something in the branches and shouting instructions. Lucifer follows your line of sight and heaves a weary, exhausted sigh when he sees Satan climbing up toward something near the top of the tree.

"What in the Devildom are the two of you doing out here?" Lucifer asks, coming to stand beside you and craning his neck up to watch Satan crawling along a branch. "What nonsense is it this time?"

You explain that you're trying to help a cat, pointing out the tiny fuzzball that Satan was slowly inching closer and closer to. Lucifer just shakes his head, rubbing at the space between his eyes like he was staving off a headache.

"Really. You know, you both could have come to me first" he tells you. "I'd have sorted this out for you easily, without Satan making a fool of himself"

You were glad that Satan was too high up to be able to hear what his older brother was saying. You took a step back to make some room, and you watched as Lucifer muttered a few words and cast a spell. There was a glowing blue light, and then -

Suddenly, Satan was standing back in front of you with both feet firmly on the ground. He had a few leaves stuck to his clothes and there was a twig caught in his hair, but otherwise he appeared to be fine. Thankfully, he had the kitten safely in his arms. He looked a little surprised to be back on the ground all of a sudden, but quickly got over it when the kitten mewled happily and batted at his sweater with its little paws.

"Look, I got him" Satan beamed at you, holding up the little kitty for you to see. "He's safe and sound, thanks to us"

"Thanks to me, you mean" Lucifer exhaled, crossing his arms. "If you had fallen out of that tree and cracked your skull open, it would have been your own fault. Just come to me next time instead of doing something so foolish"

Satan was either ignoring Lucifer, or his joy at saving the kitten was so great that he didn't even notice his brother was talking to him. He was too busy petting the baby in his arms, babbling to you about how you were its hero and what he wanted to name it. He was flushed and breathing a little heavier than normal after scaling the height of that tree, but he couldn't stop grinning.

"Just make sure you clean yourself up before coming back inside" Lucifer sighed. "And we aren't keeping that cat"

[fuckyeaharthuriana]

mordred through time (movies, tv shows, opera and musicals)

Part 2: From 1982 to 2002

Other Parts: Part 1: From 1949 to 1981 -> here Part 3: From 2002 to 2010 Part 4: From 2014 to 2017 Part 5: From 2018 to 2023

EDIT: There is a mistake in the video, Blind Guardian's Mordred's song was released in 1995 not 1989, so I corrected it in the description.

Complete list of part 2 media with extra information and some of my thoughs regarding the evolution of Mordred’s role is under cut.

We left part 1 with Mordred appearing only as a generic villain not related to Arthur until 1960 where White's novel is adapted into a musical. The musical follows the novel enough to introduce Mordred as Arthur's incestuous son with Morgause. Since then the "son" element has been kept in almost every single adaptation. We also have the first tv iteration of Mordred as Morgana's son instead of Morgause: Excalibur 1981.

This is not only the first time we see Morgana as his mother on tv, but also one of the first time ever. I made a list of the evolution of Mordred's mother in novels here.

You can see Morgause is pretty constant until 1980-1982. I have no idea what happened in those years but for the first time we have the 1980 novel "Firelord" by Parke Godwin itroducing Morgana as Mordred's mother instead of Morgause (in this case Morgause is completely eliminated). The 1981's movie Excalibur does something similar (Morgause is eliminated and Morgana absorbs her role), and I am pretty sure it could not have been influenced by "Firelord", given the two events happened so close in time (and less than a year is not usually sufficient to write and produce a movie). In 1982 Marion Zimmer Bradley published "The Mists of Avalon" which does something similar to Catherine Christian's "Pendragon": Morgause is still officially Mordred's mother by adoption.

From this point onwards you will see that Morgause ends up completely eliminated in her role as Mordred's mother from future movies and tv shows.

Full list for part 2 and more info:

1982 Camelot: I wrote a bit about the musical in part 1. This is a stage adaptation filmed live, so it retains all the songs (even Mordred's songs previously cut in the movie) and Richard Backus plays Mordred.

1984 Morte d'Arthur: A tv movie that probably was preserved thanks to Jeremy Brett's popularity as he played King Arthur. This movie is a strange adaptation of Morte d'Arthur, with the actors playing the scenes on a stage with no dialogue. A narrator tells the tale (and the dialogues themselves). Nickolas Grace played Mordred.

1985 Merlin and the Sword: Also known as "Arthur the King", this movie actually exists in two versions, the cut version missing some scenes (Arthur's funeral apparently!). The movie focuses mainly on Merlin, Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot and Mordred plays the role of Arthur's son (from Morgana) and a kind of minor comedic fumbling villain. He was played by Joseph Blatchley.

1988 New Adventures of a Yankee in King Arthur's Court: One of the many adaptations of Mark Twain's novel, this one is a bizarre Ukranian (Soviet) movie that depicts Hank Morgan as a destructive force in Camelot. The movie is absolutely stunning, but being in Russian I could not understand the dialogue. Mordred plays a very minor role, he is Morgana's son and he is killed by Hank in a treacherous duel (Hank shoots him). His death is what leads Arthur and Morgana to ally to try and defear Hank Morgan. Mordred is played by Ukranian actor Mark Gres.

1989 Mordred's song by Blind Guardian: the correct date is 1995.

1989 A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court: This is without a doubt my favorite adaptation of Twain's novel. Here Hank Morgan is actually a little girl called Karen. Mordred is a comedic-like antagonist and the main antagonist of the movie, played by Hugo Blick (who is mainly known now as a movie director).

1989 Doctor Who Battlefield: This is a 4 episodes arc in the 26th season of Doctor Who, with the Seventh Doctor being revealed as Merlin. Later on it was adapted into a novel. The episodes are set in modern times, with Morgana and her son Mordred having survived Camlann and travelling through time. Mordred is mainly shown to hate a new knight called Ancelyn who also survived Camlann. Christopher Bowen played Mordred.

1995 Mordred's song by Blind Guardian: So I decided to add the few songs/album that acts like a "Mordred's point of view/as if he was singing" kind of media. The singer here is singing as Mordred. It was also used in this 2016 rap song!

1998 Merlin: Probably one of the most popular arthurian miniseries! It follows the life of Merlin, from his childhood to his elderly years and the second episode mainly focus on Camelot and Arthur. Mordred is Morgana and Arthur's son, magically aged (like we saw in Excalibur 1981) and he becomes the main villain of the story alongside Mab. He is played by Jason Done.

2001 The Mists of Avalon: This is a miniseries adaptation of Marion Zimmer Bradley's novel, focusing on Morgana, Arthur and Guinevere. In my opinion it makes the novel much more palatable and easier to digest. Mordred here appears once more as Morgana's son, but he is a adopted by Morgause and raised to hate Arthur. Mordred is the main antagonist in the second part, and his character here is turned into an almost sympathetic villain. Hans Matherson played adult Mordred (I was obsessed with that man 15 years ago).

2002 Justice League (and the 2004 sequel Justice League Unlimited): Justice League (two seasons) and Justice League Unlimited (3 seasons) are animated shows (for a younger audience) which adapts some stories from DC (both DC and Marvel have interations of Morgana and Mordred). Mordred is a kid (Morgana put a spell on him to keep him young) and immortal, both him and Morgana are villains who use magic. He is voiced by Soren Fulton.

A small note: All these movies here are for tv! Cinematic releases for arthurian movies in general do not seem to be as prominent. It is kind of heartbreaking noawadys to see the disappearance of cheap tv movies.

[cookiesupplier]

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Eleven

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie), 

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut (eventually), angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, minor violence and swearing.

summary: Ellie was lost in the world, homeless with no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: Unbetaed, readers beware.. if you want to chat with me about ideas/theories for this story I'm open to it, my asks are always open as well.

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @bngurngheart @cncohshit @valiantroeagleangel @blackveilomens @dominuslunae @tearfallpixie @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 

Tags are open feel free to ask.

“When I’m done with you, all of Hell will know exactly who you belong to.”

Noah’s words rattle around in her head and she couldn’t get them out. Not that she’d gotten a moment to respond to him after he’d said them, he’d smirked, and teleported away, the coward, or the genius really considered she’d been prepared to slap him, or at least attempt worse, for the audacity of claiming to suggest that she belonged to him! If you thought about it, they’d met less than a day ago.

The nerve.

After Folio stopped laughing, which she didn’t appreciate at all thank you very much. He suggested they order something for lunch, that eating might make her feel better.

She hated that he had been right.

It also made her feel better when Folio helped her flick through a catalogue to find a bat to order so the next time Noah just showed up she’d have something to use on him when he got fresh. It was nice to have a bit of a partner in crime of sorts. Folio was starting to feel like that hyperactive little brother she’d never had, even if he wasn’t remotely younger than her she’d learned, he’d been about her age even before he died. He’d passed quite a few years ago, he wasn't sure on an exact number thanks to his time in punishment, but it was years.

It was probably selfish of her, but she was glad he didn’t want to reincarnate yet. The thought of losing him while she was here she didn’t think it would be the same. She might have only been here for days, and already the boys had made a mark on her that she didn’t want to lose. Of course, Noah’s mark, that was something else, and she didn’t know what to do with him.

Smiling over to Folio after she ordered her brand new baseball bat, a metal one at that. Next time a soul, or Noah, got fresh with her, she’d be ready to deal with them. 

By the time she was ready to go home in the afternoon, and they were handing over to the later shift, Folio asked if she was up for a night out again, and Ellie had laughed. Oh no, she was going home tonight, after doing a proper grocery shop, maybe cooking dinner for herself, real food.. She hadn’t made dinner for herself in so long. Smiling at the thought.. Folio had just shrugged, smiled, with a suit yourself, saluted her with his cheeky grin and was out the door.

Jolly however asked if she wanted company to show her where the best shops were, it was so simple a question, but thoughtful that he was looking out for her. She accepted immediately. He’d walked with her to the shops, and they’d just chatted about the day, and the night before, how she was feeling about settling in. How she was looking forward to actually getting to make her own food. He’d chuckled at that, saying he never cooked, considering he didn’t pay for anything, why would he take the time to cook.

Rolling her eyes, she’d just grinned and after they were done shopping for food, dragged him back to her apartment to make him dinner. To thank him for helping her, he was getting a home cooked meal.

She was in the kitchen, chopping up different vegetables with Jolly sitting on the island counter top drinking a beer while she did.

“So, I learned this recipe trick from volunteering at a soup kitchen. Before, everything went to shit. It was a great way to get as much nutrients in the food as possible, quick, easy, and I could add all kinds of vegetables in the mix. The best part, if your sneaky enough, someone like Folio, can barely tell.”

She was making Spaghetti Bolognese,

“All he’d taste is the meat and tomatoes, and it’d be all pasta cheesy goodness for him and think it’s all kinds of wonderful. Least in my opinion. Watch me make enough to heat up for lunch tomorrow, and he’ll never know just how much healthier it is, mister we can’t be friends if I’m a health nut.”

Grinning over to Jolly with that, and the man just chuckled as he swallowed a mouthful of his beer,

“Alright, you’re on.”

She was sure she’d win that one, and even if she didn’t, Folio would enjoy a nice home cooked meal just the same, she was sure of it. Sure it would be with a touch of complaining if he caught her out. She could handle a little bit of complaining just fine. Really though, she hoped that he liked it, the boys had been so nice to her, she wanted to do something nice for them, and this was something she could do. It didn’t feel like much, especially when they could just pick up the phone and order delivery food from down the road for free, but it was something.

Sighing as she chopped up the vegetables, she felt Jolly watching her carefully, looking up from the knife, pausing so she didn’t so something stupid like chop off one of her fingers or something, she caught him,

“What?”

Jolly just looked at her with a raised eyebrow for a moment not saying anything,

“What, you want to say something, it’s all over your face, what?”

The smile that crossed his face then was telling, she was right.

“So now you can read minds now too?”

That thought made her chuckle, hell had an effect it would have her seem.

“No, I can’t tell what your thinking, just that you want to say something, go on, say it Jolly. You've got your serious face on, I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

As she spoke, she went back to her vegetable chopping, ready to listen to what he had to say, hoping that she really could take what he was about to send her way. So far over the last few days, Hell had thrown quite a few curve balls at her, and it would be nice for something not to come at her like a wrecking ball tonight.

“What exactly happened last night, between you and Noah? That you remember anyway, aside from the teasing.”

She sighed, that much was obvious she guessed. She didn’t know if Jolly was looking out for her, or Noah, but at least she wasn’t getting a lecture for being stupid about it today, or Folio making fun of her with all his laughter this morning.

“He walked me home, we were talking, I’ve remembered more through the day. We were talking about what makes him different as a demon to a human, and how he looks as a demon, and he said something.. And I.. reacted.”

She didn’t look up from her actions as she was adding the chopped vegetables to her pot as she continued. Her cheeks flushed so warm, rosy red as she thought about what happened next during the night before.

“If I remember correctly, I ah, he’s right, I pretty much stripped, tried to seduce him, and now he apparently thinks I belong to him.”

Rolling her eyes,

“Possessive bastard.”

Too bad that was actually rather hot to think about. Still at the same time, she’d been down that road before, and didn’t she want to go down that one again. Her college boyfriend had not ended very well. She’d thought she was in love with him, they’d been together for over two years before she realised that everything she thought she knew about their relationship was a lie. He’d been possessive, controlling, and she’d convinced herself at the time that it was because he loved her, but it was all lies in the end, and it was just…

“He can be a bit much sometimes, but he means well.”

Her eyes flickered up to Jolly when he said that. He means well. Now where had she heard that before? Her hand stilled with her knife as she just looked at Jolly, hmm, well, oh, everywhere.

“Noah isn’t just Nicholas’ best friend, they’re practically brother’s. I know you think he is an arrogant arsehole, and sometimes he can be, but other times it can be a product of his age. I don’t know for certain how old he is, but I have narrowed it down that they are both at least a few centuries old.”

Smirking a little,

“He can be beyond frustrating, but at the same time, so many lower demons flocking towards him constantly because of his position, puts so much pressure on him. Noah has worked so hard for where he is, but I don’t think he expected never to have a moment of peace.”

While she supposed that Nicholas was old, and a lord too, he worked a lot in the human world, and with souls, and, maybe other demons wouldn’t see that the same way they would see what Noah did. That was actually kind of offensive, assholes. Making sure souls transitioned, good or bad, was just as important as punishing those that deserved it as far as she was concerned. Then again, she was someone on the outside looking in, she wasn’t a denizen of Hell that had been around here for hundreds of years, and never would be. To her, to judge someone just on their job, was rather offensive.

It would be suggesting the bartender last night was more important than the girl that made her coffee yesterday morning, which was horrible. She called bullshit on that one. Living on the street had taught her that everyone was valuable, and anyone that thought otherwise, they were the people that had less of a value in the world.

The same could be said for hell it would seem.

“Let me guess, this is all a round about way of you telling me I should at least give Noah a chance?”

Raising an eyebrow as she started stirring the pot of Bolognese sauce, now that the water on the stove was boiling however, she added the spaghetti pasta to the pot and let the pasta cook.

“Just a chance, Sweetheart. Besides, from what I can tell, the only thing he did wrong last night is bruise your ego.”

Smirking a little at slight glare she sent his way in return.

“If I tell you I hate your cooking, are you going to turn on me next?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, chuckling slightly,

“Okay okay, point taken, but Noah doesn’t have to be an ass about it.”

Taking in a breath as she stirred the pot of sauce, she would give Noah a chance. She knew what she was going to do.

Once they had finished dinner Jolly had headed home, and she had made plenty, enough that she packed up some containers to take for lunch the next day for them. Hey, she had a point to make now to Jolly, but either way, she was sure it would go well with Folio.

Looking down to the phone that she’d found left in the apartment, in it were a couple of numbers, and a message from Nicholas, one of the numbers belongs to none other than Noah.

She opened a new text thread and then paused. Staring at the blinking cursor on her screen on her phone for a long moment, considering what she should say, wondering, if she had his number, did he have hers? If she waited, would he call her? Did she want to wait? Did she want to let him control this?

No. She didn’t want to let him control this, she didn’t want to let him have control over the situation when he so obviously thought he had so much control over her in other ways. Claiming that she belonged to him and all. No. In this, she wanted to have at least a little bit of control, and if it was it was only in that she was the one that said something first, then it was at least it was a touch of control. She’d take that much. Smiling to herself she tapped out a message on her phone to him.

Ellie: Noah, are you free tomorrow night? Ellie: This is Ellie btw Noah: I don’t know BabyGirl, am I free? Ellie: I’m trying to ask you out don’t be a smartass. Ellie: Only I don’t know what’s good to do here. Noah: I’ll take care of that, and yes, I’m free. Noah: Pick you up at six.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[vind3miat0r]

Hush EA spoilers

(also a whole lot of word vomit. and for once its not copied and pasted from texts i sent to my boyfriend)

I TOLD YALL I TOLD YALL VEGA WASNT DEAD!!

okay wow theres a LOT to unpack here. uhm.

so the general theory that demons dont go to Death when they die has been confirmed!! yippee!! their magic just gets scattered to the winds and it seems like its up to someone to stitch said magic back together in order to revive(?) the demon that was killed. yay!!

taking a moment to talk about Hush because HUSHH?? Hush freaking out about how he killed Vega and how Vega confused him was just. heart-breaking. omg. i was expecting many things today, but not Hush of all people having a breakdown. that really hit too close to home </3

now, Hush mentioned something when talking about Vega: he used the term "anacruses" to refer to our beloved manipulator. hello? sudden lore drop?? question mark??

more lore drops is Hush talking about how he met Vega before he was formed, and how he thinks he wasnt supposed to remember the demon, and i quote: "But a part of me, a tiny echo within me is made of those who made me, and that’s the part of me that knows him. Knows… Vega. The daemon before the demon. The voice before the song broke from the stave. I don’t think I’m supposed to remember him."

focusing on the "voice before the song broke from the stave" part; i looked up the term "anacruses", and what i find interesting is that the word "anacrusis" popped up. "anacrusis" has multiple meanings, but one of them caught my eye: "one or more unstressed notes before the first bar line of a piece or passage."

now, i dont know much about instrument lore, but (correct me if im wrong) this is referring to music. personally, i think this is really interesting (this may be the autism speaking), because we know that d(a)emons have some sort of connection to the spellsong. im sure Gavin or Hush maybe explained it once, i cant really remember. we also know that Hush is literally the silence in the spellsong. the plural of "anacrusis" is "anacruses". you can see where this is going.

we know that Vega is really old. we know he was around before the Cacophony, which makes me think that he was one of the first daemons to be created. like, "within the first ten" kind of first. Hush calling Vega "one of the Anacruses" has me thinking some things.

firstly, the term "Anacruses" may just be a sort of title for d(a)emons who were created before the Cacophony. this is plausible, and i think it would make sense. it could also refer to d(a)emons who were created before the existence of the spellsong, maybe?

we dont know much about the spellsong, other than that its this non-corporeal thing that d(a)emons and Hush have a connection to (and if we really want to reach, the Sovereigns as well). we know that every empowered person's core has a "voice" in the spellsong, and that if said person dies, their "voice" goes silent.

we dont know when it was created, or how it was created. but the definition of "anacrusis" got me thinking... maybe the "Anacruses" daemons are the ones who created the spellsong. its a bit of a reach (thats an understatement that a very long reach), but i think it's plausible. its like FNAF lore: if you dont think about it, it makes sense.

you must be thinking, "wow vinn thats a lot of word vomit! what are you trying to say?" what i said a few paragraphs ago: "Anacruses" just means "old demon" but with significant lore and meaning attached to it. thats it.

(i really like how Erik's brain works — props to him for working this into the possible spellsong lore)

i dont really have much to say about Hush saying he existed before he... well existed. what i take from that is that he could have been a non-corporeal being who physically couldnt take a physical form until very recently. whatever created him took parts of themself to make him. i dunno, im still trying to understand it myself.

uhhh anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk, youve been a great audience as per usual :D

[emithecharmer]

Disney and Density

Fluff, friends-to-lovers, mentions of kidnapping and death (typical disney stuff 🤪) sorry for any mistakes! Disney referenced movies in order: Tangled, Frozen, Mulan, The Princess and the Frog, Frozen, The Aristocats.

"Okay, I got snacks, movies, drinks, and, my cat." I said as I plopped my cat onto my friends lap.

"Oh, and one more thing." I smiled when my cat jumped away and ran into my bedroom.

"Hm, what?" Felix asked as he turned around and gasped.

"You got Vegemite!?" He yelled in shock as he stood up and walked over.

"Mhm, my friend just got back from over there, so I asked her to grab some." I explained.

"Stop it, I love you." He said excitedly as he grabbed the jar.

"Do not tell Chris." He said pointedly, making me laugh and hold my hands up,

"I got him some too, don't worry." He nodded and clutched his hand to his chest in relief.

.

"RUN! RUN GO RUN!" I yelled at the movie, telling Eugene to run away from Gothel.

"NO!" Felix yelled as Eugene fell to the ground.

"Dumbass." I rolled my eyes at the TV as Felix giggled.

"C'mon, he had to see it coming!" I groaned as I threw my head back.

"Y'know, if you were ever kidnapped as a baby, held in a tower for 16 years, and then we met and I showed you what freedom was like. You think we could date?" I tilted my head in consideration.

"If you looked like Eugene." I answered.

"Wha- Not like me?" I shook my head.

"No, but, I would date you if my sister had been hiding her powers from me since she'd frozen a part of my head at a young age, and we met on a quest to find her." Felix hummed and tilted his head.

"I'll take it." I nodded.

"Let's watch 'Mulan' next. I wanna see daddy Shang." I moaned, causing Felix to double over in laughter and stand up.

"I'm gonna get some water, want anything?" I shook my head and watched him walk into the kitchen.

"You know, I should head home after Mulan, if I'm not staying here." Felix called out from the kitchen.

"I thought you were staying?" I asked.

"Oh- Am I?" He asked with a confused pout when he came back.

"Can you?" He nodded and got comfy on the couch again, opting for his head on my shoulder this time.

.

"Shanggg, be nice, you're half the soldier she is." Felix chuckled at my enthusiasm.

"If you sacrificed your own life for your father's, I'd be a bit threatened too." Felix said.

"Didn't Shang's dad die?" I asked.

"Mhm, when they were called to the frontlines."

"Yeahh, that's right."

Felix yawned and I smiled at him.

"Should we go to my room? You can lay down." He raised an eyebrow and smirked, making me tap his nose with my finger.

"Not like that you little horn dog." Felix cackled at my choice of words.

"I am not!" I raised an eyebrow at him, making him duck his head.

"...Just a little." He muttered, making me cackle and stand up, holding out my hand.

"Let's go, puppy." He said as he stood up and stretched, taking my hand after.

I turned off the TV and walked into my room. Luckily I had a big bed, so Felix could spread out as much as he wanted.

"Scoot over." He groaned.

"Your legs are all over me, you scoot over!" I pushed his leg, making him giggle sleepily and kick back.

"Ah! Stop!" I laughed.

"Oh my gosh stop, the lightning bug died..." I turned to the screen and Felix gasped.

"No!"

.

"I want a relationship like Anna and Kristof's." I said, making Felix hum.

"Except, I don't want the absolute absurd density they have."

"I think you already do." Felix said, making me slap his shoulder.

"Um, rude?" He laughed.

"And what do you mean by that?" I asked.

"How dumb are you?" He asked, making my eyes widen.

"Stop being mean bro!" I said.

"Y/n." I stilled, looking up and making as best eye contact I could with him in the darkness.

"Will you be the Duchess to my O'Malley?" He asked, making my jaw drop.

"Stop, because they're literally adorable-"

"Y/n.." He sighed.

"Yeah- Oh- Yeah- Yes- Mhm- Yeah- Sounds good- Gre-" I was cut off by Felix bringing his hand up to my cheek, and giving me a questioning look. I nodded and that's all it took for him to bring my face closer to his and kiss my lips softly.