#I don't know if I said what I meant to say

[gffa]

Absolutely fascinated by what the coven's philosophy is in The Acolyte, where Aniseya talks about the Thread as a connection between all living things, that different people call it different things, and says, "Some call it a Force and claim to use it. But we know the Thread is not a power you wield. Pull the Thread. Change everything. It ties you to your destiny. It binds you to others." all while she's actively wielding the Force to demonstrate it. Are we meant to find echoes of the Path of the Open hand, who believed that using the Force in one place meant that you were causing an equal and opposite reaction in another? Where they said "the Force shall be free" as a way to stop anyone from using it in any way, saying that if you saved this life then the Force would take that life over there as "balance"? Is the Coven an evolution of their beliefs, where instead of saying that no one can use the Force, but instead that you should be allowed to use it despite that? Or are they an offshoot of the Nightsisters? Or are they simply saying that the Thread wields them, rather than them wielding the Thread? Or is it that they simply believe it's a large connective web, where when you pluck one string, it vibrates across the entire tapestry? The coven is such an interesting mix of things we know to be true about the Force, but also things that are suspicious as hell, like whatever they did to Torbin, whatever created Mae and Osha, why they felt they had to hide, when the Jedi have always existed beside other dark siders in the galaxy, the Brotherhood of the Ninth Door in the High Republic, the Nightsisters in the prequels, so why are they so afraid of the Jedi finding out their secrets? What is it that the coven believes in and acts on??? Because I love weird Force traditions and the different philosophies of them and I feel like The Acolyte is very much going for a story about unreliable narrators and differing desires conflicting against each other where you can at least understand where each group is coming from, like I don't think the coven is necessarily evil, but what they did to Torbin was certainly a red flag, on the other hand, Aniseya listened to what Osha had to say about leaving with the Jedi, but also we don't know what really happened that night, and I'm enjoying the weird Force bullshit because that's my jam in Star Wars.

[icallhimjoey]

Hey bestie just wondering if u could do a little comfort one shot of our joey, context:

Starting our period in the middle of work(specifically retail but like a 6hr shift) and coming home grumpy and wanting comfort from Joe?

Pls and thank you🤍

fuck off i can TASTE this request in my bones, what the FUCK - thanks for sending it in babes, love you, mwah 🤍 Wordcount: 1.8K

---

What Else?

"Babe!" Joe called when he heard the front door go, and he sounded all chipper.

All happy that you were home. Upbeat, and in a good mood. Dripping with joy. Excited to see you, and enthusiastic, and all eager and... no. That was wrong. That was all wrong.

You were none of those things and didn't have any patience for any of those things.

You silently debated ignoring him and slipping into the shower to melt yourself down the drain. Joe hadn't done anything wrong, but it just so happened that the universe had. It wasn't Joe's fault that he was part of that, but he was, and so, one plus one equalled no patience for Joe.

"Babe?" Joe sounded a bit more unsure when you didn't answer him.

"No." you just replied, your voice as flat as you could manage it still.

Joe was going to have to leave you alone for a bit. Not get too close or look you in the eye. You know, for his own safety.

But then you heard rushed footsteps.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

Joe stepped into the hallway and the boy looked like he'd just had the most leisurely day ever, which was wrong.

Wrong thing to look like.

You very much hadn't had a leisurely day, so no one else was allowed to have had one, either.

You were tired, and in a mood, and all your face wanted to do was frown, and if Joe knew what was good for him he'd wipe that stupid smile right off of his face as he closed in on you and curled his arms around your head to hug your face.

He pressed his cheek to yours, and you allowed it.

Just for a second, though.

The kiss he then pressed to your cheek was too much.

Wrong.

"I've got balled up toilet paper in my underwear." you made it sound like a warning. Like Joe was on thin ice, somehow.

"Oh..." Joe said in casual surprise before trying to get another wet kiss in that you leant away from as you frowned deeper and pushed him back.

He hadn't picked up on the cautionary advice you actually never shared.

Wrong.

"Don't touch me."

"Okay, sorry!" Joe comically stepped back and held both his hands up. "Can I touch you when your underwear no longer contains balled up toilet paper?"

You pushed him aside as you made your way to the bathroom.

"No."

Yes, he could. He better. If Joe wasn't going to be nice to you, you'd be even less fun to be around.

"No?" Joe double-checked.

Yes.

"No." You double-downed.

You disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, and you heard Joe chuckle.

Chuckle.

"Fuck you."

Joe was a bad boyfriend and you could fucking cry.

"Okay." Joe lightly scolded, having obviously heard the soft swearing from inside the bathroom, humour still evident in his voice from behind the door. "Take a second and come find me after."

You had to take a moment to breathe, eyes closed, nostrils flared. If you didn't, you'd lash out and say something you didn't mean. You meant the fuck you. Joe was an adult and could read the room and be gentle instead of laugh at you.

You heard him leave the hallway before you sighed deeply, turned on the shower, and let your brain go silent to the white noise of the water stream.

You washed your hair in the first minute, then sat down and decided you could just stay there for the evening. With your back against the tiles, you hugged your knees tightly, chin atop. Blanketed by the warm water and hidden away from everything else.

Perfect.

After about twenty minutes of sitting in the shower, you heard the door unlock and open.

Joe placed the butterknife he used to break in next to the sink and reached into the shower to turn it off.

"Come on, baby,"

Joe had to squat to help you up.

"Time to dry off."

You wordlessly let yourself be helped onto your feet, and then groaned slightly when Joe held up a big fluffy towel that you stepped into. He hugged you over it as you let yourself sink into him. Joe made sure to hug and squeeze you all over, shifting his arms up and down your body, and it was arguably the best way to get dry after a shower.

"My feet are sore," you complained, eyes wet. "I never want to work again."

"My poor baby," Joe cooed sincerely. "What else?"

"I've got a headache."

"You do?" Joe moved the towel to softly dab your face, careful gentle touches near your eyes, dabbing away shower water as well as the beginnnigs of tears.

"And I want to pull my uterus out of my stomach."

"That sounds messy." Joe kneeled as he dried your legs.

It was so devastating to be upset over a discomfort that you just had to accept, because you were born like this. It was unfair.

"I think I might've bruised my vagina with the toilet paper."

"Hmm," Joe looked, and it seemed fine, but what did he know? He had never had to fold up single ply toiletpaper enough times for it to resemble a pad.

"What else?" Joe's voice was smooth like velvet, no making fun. Just comfort.

"I want to commit a murder."

Joe dried the tops of your feet as you wiped at your face, hot tears of frustration now passing your lashline.

"People are the w-worst and they all need to die."

Joe leant back on his heels and looked up at you, brow creased in what appeared to be genuine sympathy. You thought he may say something reasonable, like, not all people, or whatever. But he didn't. Instead he just cocked his head to the side a little and asked,

"What else?"

That made you sob.

"I want..." you started, breath stuttering. "I want– I'm leaking." You felt the trickle of period blood and Joe was quick to swoop in, getting it before you could even look down to see the damage.

"What else, baby? What do you want?" he distracted.

"I want... chocolate. Sugar."

Joe dried you off completely, cleaned and wiped what needed cleaning and wiping and then found a tampon where you kept them.

"I want it to rain, and I want it to be autumn."

You were crying and being unreasonable and it felt great whilst simultaneously feeling the worst.

"Who designed the female bod-dy? Who th-thought of the concept of it? They got it wrong. It's all wrong."

Joe moved like he was going to help insert the tampon, a move that would've made you laugh had you been in a better mood. Now, it just made you take the cotton from his hands as you listed off more things that were wrong with the world.

"My stomach hurts, a-and I'm mad at the government."

Joe just listened. Helped you dress into soft comfortable clothes. Encouraged you to get all of your complaints out. It'd leave the world feeling lighter, he knew. He'd dealt with you on days like these before.

Was nothing new.

He couldn't right any of the wrongs, but he could be sweet and love you with a bit more care than usual.

When you eventually ended up on the sofa together, you were ready to lay down right on top, but Joe stopped you just before you did.

"Can't rub your feet like that. You said you had sore feet, right?"

The way that made your lip wobble made Joe easily accept you in his arms, the way you wanted to lay with him in the first place. He'd get your feet later.

Joe made space between his legs to accommodate you.

With his back comfortably pushed into the sofa cushions and you rubbing your face into the fabric of his T-shirt that covered his chest, Joe decided to ask just one more time.

"Hey," he whispered, wrapping a leg around one of yours. "What else?"

You took a moment to think, but came up blank.

There was nothing else left. You were still annoyed, and tired, and dealing with a dull pain in your lower stomach, but you'd mentioned all of those things already.

There was something you hadn't yet said though.

"M'sorry," you murmured, meaning it with your full chest, but voice only coming out small.

Joe smiled, and he could've made a small joke. Poked fun, just a little.

He didn't.

"I'm sorry I was mean."

Joe just kissed the top of your head

"Can you..." you began, moving a hand up to swipe your wet hair aside.

"Yea of course," Joe's hand found the hem of your T-shirt to pull up, revealing your bare back. You didn't need to finish the question for Joe to know what you were asking for as his finger tips started slowly trailing up and down your back.

Joe felt how you sunk into him more. Felt how your breath was just a strange inhale away from letting emotions seep through the cracks once more. How you burrowed into him even more than he thought was really even possible.

This was all you'd really needed since the moment you'd walked in.

And he'd tried.

He'd called for you.

Knew you'd had a long shift that day.

But you hadn't been ready then.

You'd needed to get a bunch of things out of your system first.

Joe knew.

Knew you.

Joe's tickling fingers felt like heaven, tracing up and down your back inside of your shirt. It was strange how you felt both heavy and light, limbs like lead, but your mind sort of floaty.

You sighed into him as you felt Joe's other leg close in on you, caging you in.

"I really am sorry. When I said no, before, when you asked if you could touch me, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean no."

"Hmm," Joe hummed, and swallowed everything he could say about how he knew you hadn't meant no. How he knew you. There was a reason why he knew how to easily break into the bathroom.

"That's okay. I get to touch you now, don't I?"

You smiled, embarrassed because of your own earlier childish lies.

Joe was a good boyfriend.

"I get to touch you, and hug you, and feel you, and," Joe strained his neck to press a kiss against your hairline. "And kiss you..."

You melted under his affection, and decided you had an important question to ask him as well.

"Yea?" you planted you chin on his chest and looked at your boyfriend, double chins and all, as he looked down at you, gaze warm and dripping with sweet honeyed love for you.

You tried returning it as best you could.

"What else?"

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @gri959, @hanahkatexo

@harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories

@phyllosilicate-s, @readergf, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @solzi1420

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[gwilymz]

Reader making out with Tashi after she wins a game at Stanford. And Art and Patrick are jealous!

Oh my god yes...

Patrick and Art are obsessed with you two. You're not on the women's tennis team at Stanford, but you and Tashi had been assigned as random roommates freshman year and had been inseparable since. You came to all of her matches; you were the first person she ran to after a big win, pressing a big kiss against your cheek and spinning you around, high on adrenaline.

Patrick and Art had fantasies about the two of you. Of course, as the two best players on the men's tennis team, you both knew of them. But neither of you had paid much attention to them. They were exceptionally popular and well-liked, and every girl (and mom) within a 100-mile radius of Stanford University knew and admired the two of them. Fire and ice.

They would talk about the two of you late at night as they stared at the ceiling, watching the fan go around and around until they were dizzy and drunk off PBRs.

"I think they are just really close. Girls are like that." Art said, sitting up to rest on his elbows. They had a match the next morning at UC Berkeley; the team was staying at a hotel close to the campus.

"Yeah, maybe." Patrick sighed. "I would do anything for them."

"I don't know who wouldn't."

Patrick sat up quickly. "Do you think she is here?"

"Well," Art responded, his mouth full of cool ranch Doritos. "Given Tashi is on the team, I would say yes."

Patrick threw a pillow at his friend from his side of the room. "No, dipshit. Like, I think Y/N comes with Tashi sometimes on these trips. 'Cause she never misses a match."

"Okay asshole." Art rolled his eyes. "I don't obsess over every move they make like you do."

"Bullshit."

"What is your point?" Art changed the subject, confused at where Patrick's mind was headed. He figured somewhere perverted.

"I mean," Maybe it was the five beers in Patrick's quite empty stomach that was giving him this idea. This confidence. He was usually good at girls, but he couldn't get himself to talk to the two of you--especially not sober. "Maybe we could find their room. And maybe we could hang out with them."

Art lit a cigarette, his second of the night. "We have never spoken more than 5 consecutive words to them. What makes you think that would ever work out?"

"Can you not be a pussy for just tonight?" Patrick got up, pulling his linen button down on. He grabbed Art's cigarette from between his lips and took a hit. "Or be a pussy, and I'll just go by myself."

Art stood up quickly. "I'll go." He stole his cigarette back, ashing it into the trash bin haphazardly placed between their beds. "But how do we know what room they are in?"

They knew the girls' team was staying on the floor above them. And they knocked on every door until you answered, rubbing your eyes.

"What are you guys doing here?" You yawned, whispering to not awake Tashi, who was sleeping soundly on the side of the bed closest to the alarm clock, which read 2:15 AM. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Art looked embarrassed; he was red in the face. But Patrick leaned into the room, looking down at you in a shirt he recognized as Tashi's and little sleeping shorts that made his breath hitch.

"We wanted to see if you guys wanted to hang out." Patrick raised his eyebrows and looked over to Art, who nodded.

"We can't sleep. We were thinking it would be cool to get to know you guys better, I guess."

"You mean Tashi?" You whispered. "She's sleeping, you know."

"No," Patrick shook his head. "Both of you."

Tashi stirred awake. She was wearing a black tank top and similar sleeping shorts as you were. "What's goin' on?" She slurred.

"Patrick and Art are here."

"Why?" Tashi, sat up; her hair was in a neat braid. "It's late."

"They have beer, and they want to hang out." You were half making fun of them, how they looked so nervous.

"We can't sleep." Art repeated.

"Sure, come in." You didn't know if Tashi meant it. She was delirious when she was tired. But you allowed them inside, curious about their intentions.

Obviously, they were attractive. They were also exceptionally talented. But you and Tashi were content in your own little bubble, eating gummy bears and potato chips in bed and laughing at inside jokes from 3 years before.

You sat on the bed, next to Tashi. The boys sat on the carpet, looking up at the two of you.

"So," You said, hugging a pillow to your chest. Tashi rested her head on your shoulder. "Did you come here hoping to fuck us or?"

"Wha-"

"No," They responded, simultaneously. But their cheeks changing from peach to crimson told you and Tashi otherwise.

"We are just interested in getting to know you both."

Tashi scoffed. "Oh, Y/N, they are interested in getting to know us."

You laughed, throwing your head back.

You and Tashi noticed the dynamic you had created, completely on accident. She and you on the bed, them below you. Their eyes were glassy and lips parted, and you knew if you told them both to jump out the fifth story window, they would do it before they knew what exactly they were doing. You looked at each other and licked your lips.

"So if we offered to fuck you guys, you would say no?" You asked, furrowing your brows together.

"No, no, I wouldn't say that," Patrick scooted forward, hugging his knees. He looked vulnerable and small. "I can't speak for Art, but I-"

"I wouldn't say that either." Art said bluntly.

"Y/N," Tashi said, pushing your hair behind your ears. You were facing each other on the bed now; the boys were blurry in your peripheral vision. "How do you think they would kiss us?"

Patrick and Art swallowed.

You thought. "Hmm," You answered. "I bet it would be desperate."

"I think so too," Tashi leaned in, her lips brushing yours. "Probably pretty sloppy."

She kissed you, tangling her hands into your hair. You cupped your face, pulling her even closer than she already was. Your mouths opened against each other's, exchanging spit and each other's hungry moans. You pulled her braid to expose her neck, and kissed down the column of her throat, climbing on top of her. You and her had never done this before; of course, there existed the inevitable rumors, but they were untrue--until now.

"Holy fuck." Patrick was the first to break the silence; you and Tashi grinding against each other as Tashi's hands kneaded your ass.

Patrick's hand grazed the bed, a move made in an attempt to join.

"Uh uh uh." You tsked. "No touching."

Tashi flipped you around so she was on top now. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open. You whimpered as her spit fell onto your tongue. Tashi pushed your--her--shirt up, palming your tits.

"Can we-" Art began.

"Can you what?" You and Tashi asked simultaneously, pulling away from each other. A string of your mixed saliva connected the two of you for just a second longer.

The boys rolled their heads back and moaned.

"Can we join you?" You could see their boners, prominent in their sweatpants. Beads of sweat dribbled between their collarbones and over their brows.

"God, you guys sound pathetic." Tashi laughed. "What do you think, Y/N?"

You pretended to think. "Well, I guess it's only fair." You began. You saw the boys' ears perk up like they were hungry little puppies, their lips bitten from lust. "That you guys show each other a little love and appreciation."

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Could you write something about a villain who is madly in love with Hero but can’t express their feelings cause of the whole secret identity thing and they’re so in love with hero that they know everything about them and pull a bunch of strings and commit several crimes so that they can do on a date with hero?

"What was that?" the hero asked. They sat on their office chair with a leg crossed, almost as if they were on a throne and watching the villain's every move. It was intoxicating to say the least. Seeing the hero like this, like the mighty protector of the city that they were let the villain's heart jump up and down excitedly.

"I'm sorry," the villain repeated and they could feel the ends of their fingertips tingle.

"Try that again, darling." The hero's index finger ran along the villain's jawline until it stopped right under their chin. "What are you apologising for?"

They used more pressure, used more force but the villain would have raised their head no matter what. They would have punished themselves if necessary. They knew the hero was a kind person. And that they had a very sweet soul. There was no reason to fight them - the villain would lose every time, even if it meant they were doing it on purpose.

It wasn't just about the hero's power. That was mostly a sexual driven factor. What the hero could do to them (in bed, preferably) would be the hero's decision.

For the villain, the very being of the hero fascinated them. How, despite a horrible childhood, they had managed to continue to live a life full of purpose. The hero was someone who had healed gracefully, not like the villain. The hero was someone who was inspiring, someone who was changing lives so nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry I committed those crimes just to see you," the villain said. But they couldn't really think. They stared up at these perfect watercoloured eyes they would think of before going to sleep sometimes.

Most of the time, they only saw each other when they were working. Not that the villain would ever really confess - they were too insecure for that - but sometimes, they really hoped the hero would somehow feel the same things. Because, God, the villain was confused. They couldn't tell if this was affection or not. If this was flirting or if the hero was using them for other purposes.

It was heartbreaking to think about but the villain would rather stay with them while they used them than not seeing them at all.

"You can be so sweet," the hero said. They let their thumb go over the villain's bottom lip slowly and much to the villain's embarrassment, they could feel their neck start to glow. "But you should be sorry for committing crimes in the first place, not because you could get my attention that way."

"I'm sorry," the villain whispered. "I wasn't...I wasn't really thinking."

"Don't worry about it," the hero said. They let go of the villain (which bothered the villain more than it should have) and leaned against their backrest casually. "I do have another question, though."

"Yes?"

"Did you know that in our evaluation and in our reports you're classified as the most dangerous villain in the city? You're said to be the most powerful, in fact."

"...oh." The villain had suspected something like that. They knew they could defeat most villains and heroes alike. They had never had any big troubles in combat and they were quite creative when it came to using their powers. It made sense but maybe the hero was baiting them into fake self-confidence.

Was this...some heartless trick? Some fake buttering up?

"Now, here is my real question," the hero said. They stood up and the villain nearly expected the hero to circle them and make fun of the villain. To humiliate them, to use this, if they truly found out about it. Using this longing the villain felt to completely destroy the villain. But instead, the hero stood in front of them. "Why on earth is the most powerful villain in the city kneeling in my office?"

Quickly, the villain stood up - they were a bit taller so they looked down at the hero - and cleared their throat. The hero smiled at them softly.

"Well, you asked me to."

"And you didn't hesitate." This was a game. Now, the hero wanted them to confess. The villain could feel the blush on their cheeks spread until it reached their ears.

The villain swallowed. They had never done this before. They had never even thought it would be possible for someone to love them back. It was already a bit twisted - doing all of this just to look at the hero once. And after all, this could still be a trick to humiliate them. Although the villain wouldn't be mad at the hero if this was the case, they didn't like the idea of other heroes seeing them like this.

Or even hearing about this.

They could forgive the hero if they told anyone. But they would be furious with others.

"Are you asking me to...?" tell you the truth? To confess?

"Yes, yes I am."

"I'm not ready for that, I think," the villain said and they found themselves a lot more pathetic than mere minutes ago when they'd been on their knees.

"Okay," the hero said. Their smile was still so sweet. They set their hands on the villain's shoulders and pushed themselves up to their tiptoes.

Then, they kissed the villain's cheek.

"I'll wait for you," they said. "But, darling, please don't do anything stupid again."

The villain stared at them, nodding as if they were a dog receiving new commands.

[genericpuff]

Are there any things you like about LO? Or is it all shit to you. Personally, I think it could be a great storyline with the right execution, but a lot of the stuff and plot is unnecessary (I.e. Hades being thousands of years older than Kore and making characters fall in love with people they are racist/classist towards 😨😨)

Oh there are LOADS of things that I liked and still enjoy about LO despite all the shit I've thrown at it. I love love LOVE a lot of the older art-

Like, damn, that shit is so charming! I swear I had that Tower 4 panel as my phone background for like, 2 years LOL

Rachel had a really strong understanding of shape language, composition, color theory, and expressive linework in a way that was really appealing and unique at the time, but along the way it was just lost, undoubtedly due to her taking more of a backseat in the character art process and leaving it to her assistants.

That said, there's a lot of... not so charming, too.

I think, on the one hand, there's a lot to appreciate in the old art that shouldn't be rejected as we criticize this series. At the end of the day, as much as we riff on it, many of us did love this series at one point in time, so we shouldn't cringe at what it used to make us feel or pretend like we were ever above it when we were very much lost in it for ages before it went down the tubes.

But there is a lot to be said about the effects of rose-colored glasses, and how LO was never perfect. The reality is that much of Rachel's work is exemplified by the odd beautiful thing that sticks in our memories, but when we actually go back to relive those memories, we find they're all strung together by some not so beautiful stuff that makes us go 'wait what???'

Case in point, with LO we remember beautiful compositions like this:

But then within those same episodes we get:

And it's like oh. Yikes.

Aside from the art, there was also the SA plot as well as the Act of Wrath. The SA plot felt really special to me at the time because I was someone who was once in Persephone's shoes, being pressured into sex that I wasn't ready for but wasn't capable of saying no to. I can appreciate what Rachel was trying to do with that plot, but over time it became clear that she wasn't committed to seeing that plotline through and so I kind of just dropped my expectations for it entirely.

That said, it wasn't the SA plotline that set me off. I had good faith in that one still that it would be addressed eventually. It was the Act of Wrath plotline that did me in. The premise of it was totally my cup of tea in the way of "quirky character has a dark evil backstory!" which is shit that I absolutely LOVE, but then when the "twist" happened that Eris was the one to give her wrath, that was literally when I had my almost "canon event" moment of realizing "wait... I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." And then it was just all downhill from there. The S2 finale sealed my fate LOL

All that said, as much as my brain is often defaulting to "ew! gross! bad!!!" in all honesty I do still appreciate what LO meant to be back when I still enjoyed it. It meant enough to me that I just couldn't let it the fuck go when it started to go downhill, so much so that I started making my own version of it! And that's something that sets it apart so much more from other comics I really don't like anymore (or comics I never liked to begin with) like Down to Earth, The Kiss Bet, Let's Play, etc. where I really can't even be bothered to think about them let alone talk about them to the extent I do about LO. I may be full of beans when it comes to LO, but I'd still rather be talking about it and all its failings and what it used to mean to me than about any of those other works. I loved it enough to still want it in my life and that's what Rekindled has accomplished for me.

[gleefullypolin]

Can we just take a second before Part 2 comes out...

I just want to take a minute and thank Luke and Nicola. We have said more than once since part 1 came out that we as a fandom have won. And we have. I know we have had ups and downs whining about brothels and how the characters behaved or lied or acted. But at the end of the day, Polin has had some of the most book accuracy and stories coming directly from the book than the first 2 seasons. And that is not by accident.

Luke and Nic both read the book early on coming onto Bridgerton. They listened to the fans. They paid attention to the story and the parts of the book that meant something to the characters. The beats that were necessary even when the show was different than the book.

They fought for things that they thought were needed, ie: Mister Bridgerton. Making sure the carriage scene was perfect, the mirror scene. Luke and Nic knew what beats were going to be crucial to the fans. Having actors play the roles of characters that are so beloved and who understood their fandom so well is why we won so much of this season, it's why so many lines made it into the show. It's why even when the story diverged from the book, pieces of it still shined through.

This came out in the press tour, it showed in their gratitude. And THAT is why the season is doing well. I've seen comments saying that it's because S1 and S2 did well and that's the only reason S3 is doing so good. Poppycock, yes the Bridgerton name helps it to do well, but they are doing more than well, they are exceeding expectation BECAUSE of what they have done. They are not surviving on name alone. They put in the work, the went the extra mile and they became Polin. For US! You can feel that in all their interviews, in the work they put on the screen and I appreciate that. And THAT is why they are succeeding.

You can hate the ship, I don't honestly give a fuck, but give the actors the credit they deserve. They worked hard for Colin and Penelope because they loved these characters from Season 1 and they cultivated it and they knew what they needed to do for this season. Not all ships get that love and attention and even if you didn't love EVERY piece of what you got on screen, you should appreciate for sure the work they did and how they grew.

[heradion]

These feelings fester up inside

But how could I deny these butterflies (An off-screen Sterek ficlet)

In the dead of night, a sudden noise jolts Stiles awake as he sits up to notice the room empty and feeling warm. When he picked up the telephone, he realised there was no sound on the other end.

He slowly got up and stood up turning as the door to the room opened up and Derek entered with a candle in his hand.

"Hey , What happened?" Stiles asked as Derek walked closer the room being illuminated by just the moonlight and few streetlights right outside their window.

"There was a power outage, I went to check on it" Derek replied placing the candle down by the side table

"What was that noise?" Stiles asked as he walked over to the window opening it up to let some air in.

"A pole crashed onto the road, and the backup generator isn't working " Derek sighed taking off his shirt and pulling on a grey vest instead.

Stiles sat on the bed leaning against the bed frame while Derek opened the door the slightest bit to allow some ventilation before sitting on the other end of the bed across from Stiles.

As they sit in the dim light, the silence between them stretches, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Derek clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Guess we're in for a long night."

Stiles nods, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice "Yeah, seems like it."

For a moment, they sit in awkward silence, the only sound the flickering of the candle flame . But as the minutes pass, Derek begins to speak, his voice low and hesitant.

"So uhm..What have you been upto since I left?" He asked

Stiles sighed " Well..uhm...me and Scott had a falling out..of sorts because of a guy named Theo." He started before explaining everything that transpired while Derek was gone including the Wild Hunt taking him.

As Stiles continued to recount the events that transpired during Derek's absence, Derek listened intently, his brow furrowed with concern.

He watches Stiles carefully, his gaze unwavering as he absorbs every word.

When Stiles finishes speaking, a heavy silence descends upon them,

"Stiles, I'm sorry you had to go through all of that," Derek says, his voice filled with genuine concern. "It sounds like you've been through a lot."

Stiles offers a weak smile, grateful for Derek's understanding. "Yeah, it hasn't been easy, but that was one of the reasons I took up the FBI Internships...to take a break from Beacon Hills."

Derek nodded understanding what he meant." Beacon Hills is my home but it can feel like a lot" Derek stated

"I know what you mean." Stiles said "I..uhm..overheard my dad and Parrish talking 2 days back on call when he thought he ended the call about something happening back there."

"So you're thinking of going back?" Derek enquired a little concerned

Stiles hesitated for a second looking away "I don't know, I want to..for my dad and Scott..and the others too of course"

"But..I'm not .."Stiles's voice trailed off

"I know" Derek said as Stiles turned to look at him feeling a sense of warmth fill his chest knowing Derek understood

"Stiles, You've been through a lot,since the Nogitsune and all of this now..." Derek stated shifting closer " I don't want you to feel like you have to face it all alone. I know what that feels like..and it's..not easy."

"That's… really kind of you, Derek," Stiles said, his voice soft with gratitude. "Thank you."

Derek gave him a small smile before Stiles sat up "What were you upto? Going on new adventures with Braeden?"

Derek grinned looking away "No, I helped her with a mission before we parted ways. I was with Cora for a while before getting trapped in this mess trying to find a pack of hunters when Chris found me. And then Kate found us."

Stiles's mouth dropped open at the mention of Kate and nodded understanding why Derek didn't want to come back to Beacon Hills with Chris.

Stiles looked at Derek a little surprised at what he just heard before Derek continued "And then you ran into me."

"So I saved our ass." Stiles stated "Again."

"I guess you did" Derek replied rolling his eyes seemingly annoyed but the corner of his lips turned up when they were interrupted by the sound of thunder as it started to rain.

Stiles looked outside the window watching the rain fall before standing up and slowly limping towards the front door.

"I love the rain" He said leaning against the door frame opening the door a little more as Derek turned to face him.

"Yeah, me too" Derek said the two of them watching the rain pour outside

"Not when I'm driving though" Stiles pointed out turning behind

"No one does" Derek stated before they settled into a comfortable silence.

Derek looked over at Stiles noticing he was shivering before getting up to grab a sweater from him bag and walking over to him.

"Here" Derek said handing him a maroon sweater as Stiles took it looking confused.

"You're gonna get sick, you look like a homeless puppy out during the cold " Derek stated as Stiles thanked him before wearing it

Derek grinned leaning agasint the door frame opposite to Stiles looking at him wearing his sweater which was clearly too big for him.

"What?" Stiles asked crossing his arms

"Nothing" Derek replied amused as Stiles narrowed his eyes before looking out at the rain

Stiles rolled up the sleeve of his sweater on his right arm, feeling the cool droplets of rain against his skin.

With a mischievous grin, he reached over, cupping his hand to let the rainwater collect in his palm.

As Derek stood nearby, oblivious to Stiles' plan, Stiles couldn't resist the urge to try and annoy Derek. With a swift movement, he flicked his wrist, sending a spray of rainwater in Derek's direction.

Derek blinked in surprise as the droplets landed on his face and clothes, his expression shifting from confusion to amusement.

Before he could react, Stiles let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet night.

"Stiles, I'm gonna kill you." Derek stated wiping the water from his face.

"You're lucky you're injured" Derek said raising his eyebrows wiping the water from his brows

"Or what?" Stiles teased raising his eyebrows " You would've ripped my throat out?"

Derek rolled his eyes pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before looking at Stiles who had playful smirk on his face

" With your teeth?" He asked splashing him again

"Okay , That's it" Derek said running his hands through his hair before grabbing Stiles's wrists with one hand and letting some water gather in his palm before splashing Stiles as he protested

"I don't like getting wet" He protested as Derek splashed him 2 more times

"Derek, stop, oh my god, I'm going to kill you Hale!" He called out as Derek finally stopped letting him go

"Dude." Stiles said wiping his face "I have to take a shower again. In the dark that too"

"Your fault Stillinski" Derek shrugged smirking as he looked between Stiles's eyes and lips before heading inside as Stiles followed shortly behind.

(Part.1) / (Part.2) / (Part.3) /(Part.4) /(Part.5)

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Everbody Loves a Clown | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Word Count: 5956

Warnings: Canon violence, canon gore, coping with parental death, clowns lol

A/N: Special treat since the first episode was kinda short! Happy reading, everyone!

The only light in the middle of the clearing in the woods came from John’s wrapped, burning body. You stood wordlessly between Dean and Sam, watching as the pyre burned to ash. Dean stared silently while his brother fought tears.

It felt so odd to have spent so much time looking for John— a man you'd only met in passing during a hunt a little over a year ago— to now be standing in front of his burning corpse. It almost felt anticlimactic if you detached emotion completely from your situation.

On the very real and guttural side of things, though, you knew that having spent so little time with John after looking for him for almost a year was going to take a horrible toll on his boys, especially your Dean.

Sam spoke for the first time in hours. “Before he.. before... did he say anything to you? About anything?”

Dean refused to look at you or his brother, but said, “No. Nothing.”

An obvious lie.

***

Over a week after John’s funeral, you were watching Dean work on his car at Bobby’s. Bobby had been nice enough to let the three of you stay with him while Dean got the Impala back in working order.

Selfishly, every time you looked at Dean, you wanted to come right out with your feelings. Although, he was grieving, and you did not want to take advantage of his vulnerability. You wouldn't want your relationship to be born out of such a terrible tragedy.

However, you would continue to be there for him however he needed, even if that meant sitting next to him in the hot sun silently for hours and handing him a wrench every once in a while. You knew better than to ask if he was okay. You’d lost your father, too and knew he wouldn’t be okay for quite some time.

At first, he’d barely tolerated you sitting next to him. He fought you on everything you tried to do for him, but you got him to shut up after a few days. You knew he knew what you were playing at, and you could tell he appreciated it nonetheless.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as well-fortified against his emotions. You could hear him crying in the next room almost nightly, and it broke your heart. But you would rather Sam cry than build himself up against negative feelings the way his brother did. He was more into the touchy-feely-hug-it-out therapy style, and you were more than happy to give that to him. These boys needed you to be strong for them, and you would happily do so for as long as they needed. 

“How's the car coming along?” Sam asked, approaching you and Dean, who was under his car. You sat next to where his boots stuck out with a tool box in your lap.

“Slow,” Dean responded.

“Yeah? Need any help?”

“What, you under a hood? I'll pass.”

“Need anything else, then?”

Dean rolled himself out from under the car and stood up above you. You looked between Dean’s face, set in hard lines, and his brother’s puppy-dog stare. “Stop it, Sam.”

“Stop what?” the younger brother asked innocently.

“Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise,” Dean scoffed.

“Alright, Dean, it's just—” Sam took a deep breath. “We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once.”

“You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” You knew the bite in Dean’s voice was all a mask.

“Don't patronize me, Dean,” Sam returned. “Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”

“Sam, let it go—” you tried, but Dean continued to talk over you.

“Revenge, huh?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it— oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.” He got back down under it.  

“Well, we've got something, alright?” Sam crouched down next to you and handed you a cell phone. “It’s what I came out here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this.”

Dean pushed himself out from under the car again and sat up next to you as you played the voicemail. “John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.”

“That message is four months old,” Sam explained.

“Dad saved that chick's message for four months?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam nodded.

“Who’s Ellen?” you asked. “Any mention of her in your dad’s journal?”

“No. But I ran a trace on her phone number, and I got an address.”

***

You and the boys ended up taking one of Bobby’s beat-up minivans to the Roadhouse Saloon; the address Ellen’s voicemail led to. 

“This is humiliating. I feel like a fuckin’ soccer mom!” Dean groaned as he parked the car.

“It’s the only one Bobby had running, dude,” you reminded him. You followed the boys into the purposefully dilapidated-looking building.  

“Hello? Anybody here?” Dean asked loudly. No response ever came. All you could hear was a fly buzzing and a light popping. You caught sight of a man passed out on the pool table facing away from you. 

“Hey, buddy?” Sam said. He turned back to you and Dean. “I'm guessing that isn't Ellen.” He headed into a back room to look around. You walked a little ahead of Dean, only turning around when you heard him say. “Oh god, please let that be a rifle.”

You whipped out your gun and turned to see a pretty petite blonde holding a cocked rifle to Dean’s back. “No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move.”

“Hey!” you said. She looked to you, but didn’t move her gun from Dean’s back. “You shoot him, and you’re dead,” you told her.

“Well, he moves, and he’s dead,” she replied.

“Ladies, Ladies, please,” Dean smirked. “You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…” He turned around fluidly and grabbed the rifle. “That.”

The blonde punched him square in the nose and took back the rifle. You cocked your pistol, catching her attention. 

“Sam! A little help, please!” Dean said. 

“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” Sam walked out with his hands on his head and a shotgun pointed at the back of him. An older woman walked out holding it. “Sam? Dean? Winchester?” she said.

“Yeah…?” Dean said.

“Son of a bitch,” the woman muttered.

The blonde spoke up next. “Mom, you know these guys?”

“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys,” she answered, lowering the gun and laughing. “Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”

Jo lowered her rifle as well. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Oh, we’re just supposed to be cool now?” you remarked, still pointing your gun at the blonde.

“(Y/N), cool it,” Dean warned. You did as told and slowly lowered your gun, still stand-offish. 

“You're not gonna hit me again, are you?” Dean asked Jo. 

Ellen handed him a small towel filled with ice. 

“Thanks. You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?” he asked as he took it from her.

“Well, the demon, of course,” she stated as if it was obvious. “I heard he was closing in on it.”

“What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?” Dean snarked. “I mean, who- who are you? How do you know about all this?”

The brunette scoffed. “Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once.”

“Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?”

She looked down and softened her voice. “You'd have to ask him that.”

“So why exactly do we need your help?” Dean questioned.

Now you wanted Dean to cool it. “Relax, man,” you warned.

“Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—” Ellen stopped suddenly. “He didn't send you.” She looked frantically between Dean and Sam. “He's all right, isn't he?”

Dean refused to look at her, but Sam answered instead. “No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess.”

Ellen looked sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay. We're all right,” Dean replied.

“Really? I know how close you and your dad were.”

“Really, lady, I'm fine,” he growled.

“Dean, relax,” you urged him quietly.

Sam continued the conversation with Ellen. “So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Well, we can't. But Ash will,” she smirked.

“Who's Ash?” you asked.

“Ash!” she called.

You turned to the man on the pool table as he jerked up and flailed up. “What? It closin' time?”

Sam snorted. “That’s Ash?”

Jo hummed. “Mm-hmm. He's a genius.”

You looked at her, skeptical. 

“Sit, please,” Ellen said, and she and her daughter moved around the bar opposite you while you slapped a folder down in front of Ash. He sat across the bar from you.

“You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie,” Dean remarked.

Ash grinned drunkenly. “I like you.”

“Thanks,” the older brother smiled, seeming slightly confused by the drunk.

“Just give him a chance,” Jo urged.

You opened the folder and pushed it toward Ash. “That’s about a year’s worth of John’s work. See if you can make heads or tails of it.”

Ash shook his head as he looked through the papers. “Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this.”

“Our dad could,” said Sam.

“There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean, damn!” Ash’s cadence made you giggle. “They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms— You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me—” he thought for a moment— “fifty-one hours.” He got up to leave, but Dean stopped him. 

“I, uh, I dig the haircut.”

He waved his hair around dramatically. “All business up front, party in the back.”

Jo walked around Dean, flirting a little. You could’ve killed her. 

He offered Jo a polite smile, but you apparently were not doing a good job of hiding your jealousy.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean chuckled, shooting you a smirk. 

You could practically feel Jo checking Dean out. 

“She’s looking at you like a hunk of meat,” you replied, talking through your teeth. 

“What, you mean, like you do?” he replied, smirking.

“I do not!” You paused at his deadpan look. “I mean, sometimes, maybe, quite possibly, but not right now.”

He nodded. “And you know, I, uh, I appreciate that.”

“Do you really? Sounded like you had a gun to your head when you said that,” you giggled.

He looked back at you sincerely. “You know I do.”

"I do just have... one question, though," you said, unable to stop the words coming out of your mouth due to the sudden, subtle flirting coming from Dean.

He nodded for you to continue.

"I'm assuming you pieced together what I was gonna tell you back at the hospital," you trailed off.

Dean nodded again, the ends of his lips tugging upward.

"You're not... freaked out?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Opposite of freaked out."

You could feel your cheeks heating, and you looked down at the bar in front of you. Dean's chuckle was music to your ears despite the way it spurred on your embarrassment.

Then, Sam approached you and Dean. “A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean asked.

“So, I told her we'd check it out.��

***

Dean continued to grumble about the “stupid minivan” the whole way to your next hunt. Sam did research as you scribbled in your journal. Helping the boys was a task you wouldn't give up for anything, but it was beginning to bring up some negative emotions and memories for you. Journaling was helping to calm the storm inside you.

“You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually,” Sam responded.

“And this family was at some carnival that night?”

“Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals.”

“So, how do we know it’s not some psycho in a clown suit?” you piped up.

“Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course,” Sam explained.

“Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?” Dean mocked.

“Oh, give me a break,” the brunet muttered.

You smiled but refused to make fun of him, because “everyone is afraid of something.” 

“You’re scared of clowns?” you asked.

“Yeah, he still busts out crying whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on the television,” Dean told you.

“Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying,” Sam deadpanned.

“Planes crash!”

“And apparently clowns kill!”

"Boys—!"

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean mumbled. “So these types of murders, they ever happen before?”

“Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales,” the younger Winchester explained.

“It’s weird, though, spirits are usually bound to specific locales, y’know,” you said. “So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?”

“Cursed object, maybe,” Dean suggested. “Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them.”

“Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well, blame Sam. It was his idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job.” Dean threw a look to his brother.

“So?”

“It's just… not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt.”

You eyed Sam strangely, too.

The younger Winchester softened. “I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“What Dad would have wanted?” Dean turned his face to Sam.

“Yeah. So?” Sam challenged.

“Nothin'.”

***

You and the boys decided to join the carnival after the second family had been murdered to get a closer look at the happenings during the carnival. “Friends close, freak-shows closer,” Dean had said.

When you entered yet another tent in search of the show’s organizer. You found a man throwing knives at a target; all landing near but not quite on the bulls-eye. 

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper; have you seen him around?” the older brother asked.

The man turned around and pulled off his sunglasses. “What is that, some kind of joke?” 

“Oh. God, I'm— I'm sorry,” Dean said.

“You think I wouldn't give my teeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?”

Dean whispered to you, “Wanna give me a little help here?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Hey man, is there a problem?” a voice interrogated from behind you. You turned to see a very short man in a red cape.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people,” the knife-thrower said.

“No, I don't, I—” Dean’s gorgeous smile was doing nothing to help him in this situation.

“Hey, buddy, what's your problem?” the short man scowled.

“Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding.”

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The man went to charge Dean.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just— could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?”

You and Sam snickered.

“Please?” you asked. 

The short man looked up at you, and his gaze softened. “Sure, sweetheart, follow me.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking back at the boys. 

Dean’s jaw was clenched for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. When you asked, he said, “Just don’t like anybody else callin’ you that.”

You smiled lopsidedly. He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

Mr. Cooper met you at the door of his office and invited you in. “You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.”

You looked at the available seating options, and Dean motioned for you to take the normal of the two chairs. You obliged, and Dean stood behind you, forcing Sam to sit in the obnoxious pink chair with a giant clown face on it. He sat on the chair hesitantly and refused to relax into it. 

“We've got all kinds of local trouble,” Mr. Cooper continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes, sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas,” Sam responded.

“Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men?” 

“Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess.”

Mr. Cooper eyed your group strangely. “You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.”

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” The showrunner pointed to a black and white picture on the wall of a man in a fedora in front of a ferris wheel.

“You guys could be twins,” you pointed out. 

Mr. Cooper smiled thoughtfully. “He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else.

"But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Marry this one, maybe.” The man gestured to you. “Have two point five kids. Live regular.”

Dean went to say something, but Sam leaned forward, his eyes serious. “Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.”

You turned to him skeptically, as did Dean. 

Mr. Cooper told the three of you to return in a few hours for training, which you were a little surprised by the suddenness of. 

“I guess they really are desperate,” you said as the three of you left the carnival holding your uniforms to go change into. 

“Were you serious?” Dean asked his brother.

“What?” Sam furrowed his brows at him.

“That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” Dean pressed further at his younger brother’s hesitance. “Sam?” 

“I don't know,” he replied.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead, and the fat lady sings ,that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State,” Dean deadpanned.

“I'm having second thoughts,” was all the younger brother answered with.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

Dean stopped Sam. “Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.”

“Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?”

Dean’s voice hardened but remained sarcastic. “Naw, I don't have a problem at all.”

***

Later that day, you returned with the boys wearing a bright red “Cooper Carnival” jacket to begin your “janitorial job.” You were waiting for Sam or Dean to call you to tell you when to meet up with them for further investigation.

Before you had gotten a call from either, you noticed a little girl tugging on her mother’s jacket. “Mommy, look at the clown!” She pointed at something off in the distance. 

You followed her line of sight only to see nothing.

“What clown?” the mother asked. “Come on, sweetie, come on.”

You called Sam immediately. “Hey, dude. I got something.”

***

The three of you then chose to stake out the family’s home that evening. Dean had just relayed to you how the blind man overheard him calling Sam about the case and had to tell him you three were writing a book about the supernatural.

“Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown,” Sam snorted.

“I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real,” Dean argued. He pulled a gun and cocked it. You jumped over the seat and shoved his arm down. “What are you, nuts? You’re gonna get us busted.”

“Oh, and get this,” Dean continued. “I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what.”

“What?” you and Sam asked.

“Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager.”

“So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?” Sam questioned.

“Something like that.” The older brother shook his head and sighed. “I can't believe we keep talking about clowns.”

***

You and the Winchesters had been stalking these poor people’s home for hours now. Well, you and Sam had, at least. Dean, on the other hand, was dozing in the front seat. You shook him awake when you saw a phantom clown appear at the front door.

“Dee, look,” you said. 

He hummed and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He turned and looked at you when he saw the girl leading the clown inside. 

You jumped out of the car and went through the back entrance of the house. You hid around a corner down the hallway from where the little girl and the clown were.

“Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs,” you heard the girl say. At that moment, Sam leapt out and grabbed the young girl who screamed.

Simultaneously, you shot at the clown while Dean cocked his shotgun again. “Sam, watch out!” he yelled. 

The clown leapt out the window, turning invisible as it shattered the glass of the front door.

The parents ran downstairs and began shouting at you and the brothers. You and the brothers dropped the girl and sprinted away, hearing the girl whine, “ Mommy, Daddy, they shot my clown!” as you headed out.

***

A while later, you and the brothers pulled off the side of the road and ditched the crappy van Dean had been driving you around in. You pulled the license plate off the back of the van and stuffed it in your duffel bag.

“You really think they saw our plates?” Sam asked you.

“I’m not taking any chances,” you said.

“I hate this fuckin’ thing anyway,” Dean grumbled. He began to lead you and his brother off the side of the road. “Well, one thing's for sure.”

“What?” you asked.

“We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?” Sam suggested.

“I don’t know, man, I’ve never heard of a creature like that. And it’s definitely not a person. I have no idea what the hell it could be,” you huffed.

“Did it say anything in Dad's journal?” Dean asked.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Nope,” pulling out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” you asked him.

“Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?” Sam smirked.

“No way,” snorted Dean.

“Then why didn't he tell us about her?” retorted Sam.

“I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out,” the older brother shrugged.

“Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?”

You chuckled, but Dean simply nodded and looked at the floor. 

Sam lowered his phone. “Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap,” Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, god.”

“I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean started walking a little faster. “You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam caught up with his brother easily. “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!” the older Winchester said gruffly.

“What are you talking about?” Sam questioned.

“I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late.”

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?”

You looked between the boys and knew Dean was handing Sam a load of bullshit. However, you decided to stow that conversation until you could get him in private.

Sam swallowed harshly, looking upset. “I'm going to call Ellen.” Sam walked a little ahead of you and Dean on the phone.

While Sam spoke to Ellen, you walked beside Dean wordlessly.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to act like I’m a bomb about to go off,” Dean said.

You looked up at him. “I’m not. I just thought you’d appreciate a little silence instead of me asking you to ‘share and care,’ as you put it.”

He nodded. “Thanks.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, allowing you to support him in that simple way. He rubbed his thumb over yours and continued to walk next to you. 

When Sam got off the phone, he turned back to you and his brother. “Wha—” He looked down at yours and Dean’s entwined hands and shook his head. “Nevermind. Rakshasa.”

“What's that?” Dean asked.

“Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited,” Sam explained.

“So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in. Why don't they just munch on the kids?”

“No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?”

“Well, that’s grotesque,” you noted.

“What else'd you find out?” Dean questioned.

“Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects.” The younger brother grimaced.

“Nice,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess.”

“Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81—”

Sam cut his brother off. “Right. Probably more before that.”

“Who do we know that worked both shows?” You raised a brow.

“Cooper?” Sam replied.

“Yup.” You thought for a moment. “That picture of his father looked just like him. Maybe it was him.”

“Well, who knows how old he is?” Sam added.

“Ellen say how to kill him?” Dean asked.

“Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass,” the brunet explained.

“I think I know where to get one of those.”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Before we go stabbing Cooper, I wanna make damn sure it’s him.”

“Oh, you're such a stickler for details, sweetheart,” the older Winchester teased you. “Alright, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper's got bed bugs.”

***

You and Sam followed instructions and went to Mr. Cooper’s trailer. Dean had left the two of you to go find the blind man. Inside the trailer, you didn’t find any bugs he was nesting on. Just a plain, old twin mattress. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a voice called from behind you.

You wheeled around to see Mr. Cooper. “Oh, hi! Just the guy I wanted to—”

“Save it,” Mr. Cooper told you. “Get the hell out of here. Oh, and uh, you’re fired.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

You and Sam dashed out of Mr. Cooper’s trailer and over to where Dean had told you he’d be. When you arrived at the blind man’s tent, Dean stumbled out of the door.

“Holy shit, hey,” you said after he’d scared you.

“Hey.”

“So, Cooper thinks we’re Peeping Toms, but it's not him,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere.”

“Well, did you get the—”

“The brass blades? No. No, it's just been one of those days,” Dean sarcastically replied. 

“I got an idea. Come on,” Sam said. You and Dean followed him to the funhouse. As you began to go through, the door slammed behind you between you and the brothers.

“Great!” you groaned. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled, banging on the door. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N/N), find the maze, okay?” Sam called to you.

“Okay!” you called back. You somehow stumbled your way through the maze and found the brothers. “Oh, thank god,” you sighed.

Sam broke a pipe off the organ a bit ahead of you. 

“Where is it?” you asked.

“I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean answered. A knife flew right past your head, clipping your ear. “Fuck!”

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know, Sam, the thing’s invisible!” You jumped up, reached above your head, and grabbed a lever. When you pulled it down, steam poured out of the vent. 

“Sam, behind you! Behind you!” you heard Dean say. You began to run in the direction of Dean’s voice through the steam. When you arrived at him, there was a bloodied lump of clothes on the ground with a pipe sticking out from its chest. You turned to Dean who was pinned to the wall by two knives on his arm and helped him free himself.

“You okay?” he asked you. 

You nodded as you pulled the last knife out of his jacket.

“I hate funhouses,” he grumbled.

***

You sat next to Dean at Ellen’s bar, and she laid a few beers in front of you. “You kids did a hell of a job.” Ellen nodded at the brothers. “Your dad 'd be proud.”

Sam half-smiled. “Thanks.” He got up to walk over to Ash, and Jo took his place.

“So,” she cleared her throat.

‘Damn, this girl is bold,’ you thought.

“So,” you said.

She ignored you and focused on Dean. “Am I gonna see you again?”

Dean turned to her, surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn't hate it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up from your chair, heading over to Sam and Ash. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you walked away. You knew you had no reason to treat Jo poorly; she was just a young girl with a crush. She had no idea that you and Dean were at all involved. You truly didn’t even know if you and Dean were legitimately involved to begin with.

You noted Ash’s bizarre-looking laptop with exposed wiring and his stack of papers. “Whatcha got there, Pinky?”

He snorted at you. “I’d say I’m a little more Brain than anything, but where ya been? Been waitin’ for ya.”

“What, Ellen didn’t tell you about the clowns?” you asked.

“Clowns? What the fuck—”

You snickered as Dean walked up behind you. “You got something for us, Ash?”

“You find the demon?” Sam questioned.

Ash shook his head. “It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm.”

Dean reached for his laptop. “Do you mind…?”

Ash gave him a look, and Dean pulled his hand back from the keyboard. 

You smirked a little at the sight. “Ash, where did you learn to do all this?”

“M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting.”

“No way!” you exclaimed.

He smirked at you and took a sip of his beer. 

“Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?” Dean said, suggesting to you and Sam it was time to go.

“Si, si, compadre.” Ash took the beer Dean had placed down and chugged the rest of it. 

You followed the brothers to the door. Ellen stopped you before you could leave. “Hey, listen— if you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back.”

“Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish,” Dean said.

***

“So, you get Jo’s number?” you asked back at Bobby’s junkyard. You sat cross-legged on the hood of one of the cars next to the Impala Dean was working on drinking a beer.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, she obviously likes you. Kid was shamelessly flirting with you, so I just assumed—”

“No, (Y/N).” He put down the wrench he was holding. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, okay, I just thought—”

He walked over to you and stood between your knees. He ran his hands up and down your thighs. “I’m telling you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Dean, stop it. You don’t have to come over here and flirt with me just ‘cause I got jealous” you said. 

“I’m not,” he assured you. “Look, we haven’t had a chance to talk about everything—”

“And I don’t need us to. I know you need time after your dad—”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you muttered. 

“But I have no interest in Jo. She’s layin’ it on a little too thick for my taste,” he smirked.

"I don't know, Dean, your bar hookups always lay it on pretty thick," you reminded him.

"Yeah, guess you're right. But she's not you. So I'm not interested."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get some more beer. You want one?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You headed back inside and passed Sam on the way. You found Bobby inside and began to update him on the situation with the brothers.

“I don’t know, Bobby, neither of them are doing well,” you said. “But it’s Dean I’m the most worried about.”

“Why’s that?” the older man asked.

“He’s just… bottling it up. He wouldn’t even let me sit next to him while he worked on his car for the first week we were here. He’s worrying me.”

“Sounds like Dean,” Bobby nodded. “But I think if anybody can get ‘im to open up, it’s gonna be you.”

You eyed him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s just… different with you. I think he puts up a bit of a front with Sam. But never with you.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep trying.” You grabbed two beers and again passed Sam as he came back into the house with tears in his eyes. As you approached Dean’s car, you heard slamming metal on metal and Dean grunting. You quickened your step to get to him, holding a beer in each hand. When you arrived, you saw him hitting the Impala’s trunk with a crowbar over and over again.

“Dean, what the f—”

He looked up at you and fought back tears. You put the beers on the car behind you and slowly approached him. You opened your arms to him and wrapped them around his torso, and he finally responded by burying his face in your hair. You could feel him still trying to stifle his tears, but it was clear he was unsuccessful. You let him hug you for as long as he needed to.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[pretty-unglad-you-were-born]

that pi hat is so ugly why's he wearing that

because i'm gonna give you a confusing answer... pi🤭... what do i mean?🤨 sin con tan could be? infinity?🤨 the truthful answer is that i don't know... cause pi is an infinite number? there's an infinite amount of possibilities that could happen❌📉... that's what i was trying to say and i thought i was being clever🧠 by saying pi but i was actually just talking about apple pie🍎... i meant like the food🥧... yeah i meant like the food🥧... that's what you just said i just stole your joke😎 remember when you used to do that all the time🫵 she would make a joke at a dinner party and i'd be like no one's heard that SO I'M GONNA SAY IT😁 and then everyone would laugh and i'd be like 😜i'm funny😗✌️ and i'd be like 😲😒 he used to do it !!all the time!!🕣 not anymore tho... now i've learned to speak up🗣️ and not let people steal my jokes😌

[flowery-mess]

Noah meeting you at your work (sales assistant in retail)

Noah is a tall man, that's a fact

And finding good fitting jeans for him is really hard

He always went to Zara or Bershka or any other basic clothes shop

He always managed to buy jeans that were at least his length, but had to tie them in the waist

So he decided that visiting a specialized shop with jeans, where someone would help him and he didn't have to try on 50 jeans he chose himself, is a great idea

So on his off day he went to his local mall and found a little jean shop

He noticed you straight away, he saw you talking with another man about what colors you have in the type of jeans he chose

He looked around for a bit, but then you approached him with a smile and 'hello, how can I help you?'

You asked, but you already knew what he's looking for

Well, he didn't know what he's looking for (because most men don't fucking know)

He just told you he need jeans that fit nicely and are long enough for him

You were thinking about slim fit, 30 or 31 in waist and 34 or 36 for length

You gave him few pieces to try

Every time your fingers touched his you felt something in your tummy

He kept staring at you, when you were explaining types of jeans you have

That means he didn't really listen what you were saying

When Noah went to try what you handed to him, you made your way behind the cash desk where your colleagues started making fun of your slight blushed cheeks and how you two looked at each other like teenagers

They were pressuring you into giving him your number or ask for his

But you found it unprofessional and were scared of rejection

You went to check with him if the size and type fits

When he came out of the fitting room with the jeans on, you felt something in your tummy (or maybe lower) again

He came in with sweatpants shorts so you didn't see his legs and ass before

But with those jeans hugging him in the right places you couldn't stop staring

To be honest you stare at everyone's ass when they try jeans, that's part of the job, but looking at this handsome man's ass felt embarrasing

He tried different sizes, types and colors and he chose three pairs to buy

You two kept smiling at each other and kept stealing glances

He paid and then left the shop

Your colleagues were making fun of you for the rest of the shift, because you kept day dreaming about Noah

You two were too lost in each others eyes that neither of you noticed that Noah gave you wrong size that he later paid for

He noticed it back home

And he was embarrased

He didn't know if he should come back and exchange it for the right items

He thought about it for a few days, but after he asked Jesse for the 10th time for an opinion Jesse said 'Mate if you don't go back there tomorrow, I will, and I'll make sure she never forgets who you are.'

Which meant he would go there and embarras the hell out of Noah

So the next day he came back like a little puppy

'I'm sorry I took the wrong size when I was here on Monday.'

You didn't mind that, you were happy he came on the day you were at work

You said no worries and helped him find the right size

This time your interaction was more smooth, with some small talk

When you did the exchange on your cash register, he apologized for the 10th time

And before you thought about what you're going to say, you said 'It's no problem, it happens, but if you insist on apologizing you can take me out.'

For a few seconds you both stood there like 🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏽

'I'm so sorry, that was really inappropriate, I'm sorry.'

'If you insist on applogozing, you can let me take you out for dinner.' he used your words and turned the situation around with a smirk on his face

You said yes, also said 'I'm sorry' few more times

You two exchanged numbers and set up a date for your dinner

Your colleagues were laughing behind the corner at you interaction and then just said that at least you two will have a cute story for your kids

Taglist: @somewhere-diamond @reyadawn

You are the first ones that asked to be tagged in something I post, THANK YOU💗

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

In today's "Are we watching the same show?" episode. There is a minority but loud voice complaining that somehow Penelope and Colin's friendship is only told and never showed to us. Say what? S1 and S2 ON SCREEN Colin and Penelope discuss trust, dreams, their aspirations, they banter, dance together and talk about love, even about love. Colin exchange letters with her ( a girl that is not his family member), this a boy and a girl in the 1800s having this connection and he takes what she says to the heart to a point where it's her who inspires him to travel because she said something to him. Colin listens to her talking about her freedom & dreams in S2 in a scene where she makes him feel important and he looks at her with pure and utter admiration and it's there, all there. At the end, as still immature boy with other men around, he denies having interest on her beyond of a friend, with poor choices of words. Then we start S3 and he's upset she is not answering to his letters anymore, when even his family ignores his letters and he used to take it well, he misses her. It happens what we know and confronted with what the hurt he caused her, he apologises and clarifies it was about his own insecurities, not her, never her because she's warm, and clever and someone he admires and wants in his life, because with her he actually feels appreciated, she hears him, knows him, and she also didn't fall for the charm facade. Colin not only says things, he acts on. He tries with actions to make it up for her to give what she wants, even if he actually is not really pleased that she's seeking a husband ( and ofc it's about his own feelings for her here, but i digress) and he goes to teach her that she's wonderful, charming, attractive to any men. As i said before, his lessons is all about Colin telling her how he sees her and OH BOY, he sees her as someone wonderful for he thinks she only needs to be herself to get any husband she wants. So don't even try to say Colin was ashamed of that woman. He seeks her, He flirts with her, he remembers exactly how they met, he never was upset to be with her everywhere. When he thought her cousin was hurting her life ( let's be real, it was for Pen that he was more worried about the Featheringtons), he confronted the man and made sure to tell her he'll always protect her because Pen is special to him. When we grow up with someone, and specially someone younger that we relate in our minds to our baby sibblings it takes some mental adjustment that we even deny and supress some feelings when things start to change, to see them as men and woman take a bit of time, change, maturing and acceptance to feel it's right. Colin breaks every social rule with her because he's so close to her and she feels so much his in a sense that he doesn't see what's wrong in the way he behaves around her - that he doesn't around other women. And when his friend asks him to kiss her, he's reticent because he's afraid of losing her when he clearly is already starting to realize how he actually loves her, and because they are so in tune usually, it messes with his mind that the kiss of realization meant nothing to her, as he perceives. It drives him nuts. Again, we are talking about 1800s young adults, not 2024. Learn what friendship between Men and Women were. If their friendship had taken any further steps, they would have to end up making out in a public fashion and get marry....oh wait....

[misc-obeyme]

Be good and wait for me.

Well. I said I'd write the Barb smut, so here it is. This is based entirely off this one line of his that he says when you put his shower still as your home screen. The sex does not happen in the shower because shower sex scares me lol.

Anyway, this came out way longer than I anticipated. I don't know if it's any good, but I always feel that way, so. I do feel that I am entering another smut phase... so be prepared for that, I guess?

GN!MC x Barbatos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: top!MC, bottom!Barb, fingering (Barb receiving), penetration (Barb receiving), use of the word cock for reader (so you can replace with strap if you feel so inclined), tailfucking (reader receiving), established relationship

When your room at the House of Lamentation was unceremoniously flooded by an unexpectedly upset demon (his name has been redacted for safety reasons), you found yourself accepting an offer from Barbatos to stay at the Demon Lord’s Castle while the repairs were completed.

It wasn't unusual for him to extend such an invitation, but you were flattered all the same. Being in a relationship with the Demon Prince's butler meant that you didn't get to spend every moment with him. But living in the castle, even temporarily, would afford you more opportunities.

You settled in right away, falling into an easy routine with him. Every evening, when he was done working for the day, Barbatos would change into more casual clothes and then make tea. You would arrive at his room at the same time every day to sit and talk with him.

It was one such quiet evening when you made your way to his bedroom. You opened the door without knocking as you always did, knowing that he would already be waiting for you with a freshly brewed pot of tea.

You found his room empty, but you could hear a sound from the bathroom. The door was ajar, light spilling out into the bedroom area. You couldn’t help your curiosity, wondering what he could be doing at this time when you were certain you knew his routine perfectly.

You pushed the door open a little more and the sound you were hearing resolved in your mind. It was running water and Barbatos was in the shower.

You could see him quite clearly - standing there with the shower head in his hand and the water running down his body. The lights were bright, making it easy for you to see everything. Behind him, the full moon added its silver light through the window.

He smiled upon seeing you, completely unbothered by your presence.

And really, you shouldn’t have been startled either - it wasn’t like this was the first time you’d seen him naked. But there was something about the way the light played across his skin, the way the droplets of water traced along the edges of his body, the way his hair curled slightly in the damp air…

“I will be with you in a moment, MC,” he said. “Be good and wait for me.”

He might as well have given you the human equivalent of lunatic pudding. His words, his calm smooth voice, the soft smile on his face - desire flooded through you.

All you could do was nod and turn away, making your way to his bed where you sat down on the edge and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. You weren’t here to get frisky - it was time for tea. Clearly Barbatos had lingered in the shower longer than he had intended, that was all. There was no way he had done it on purpose… right?

Be good and wait for me. You couldn't suppress your shiver.

Moments later, Barbatos came out of the bathroom and you felt another spike of need shoot through you. He had only a towel around his waist, tiny drops of water still falling from the ends of his hair.

He saw you sitting on his bed, your back straight, your hands in your lap, your eyes wide. He smiled at you and your heart began to race.

It was more than just seeing so much of his skin exposed. It was how he had begun to let you see these parts of himself - dressed casually and relaxing, first thing in the morning before he had even fully woken, the moments just after getting out of the shower - times when he had let his guard down with you.

And while you still had goosebumps from hearing him say those words to you, the love you could see in his expression was doing something else to you entirely. Your hands were gripped tightly together in an attempt to prevent yourself from squirming.

Barbatos approached you, standing before you and placing his fingertips on your cheek.

“Forgive me for making you wait,” he said.

You frowned up at him. “Why do I get the feeling you did it on purpose? It’s not like you to be off your routine.”

Barbatos laughed softly and let his fingers travel down your jaw to trace your lips. “You know me too well, it seems,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ve seen right through me. Will you continue to be good for me, MC?”

And that was when you knew that if you didn’t take charge, you’d end up getting teased for hours before finally losing your mind. You were too on edge for that, so you stood up abruptly.

Barbatos seemed to anticipate this and he easily moved around you to take your spot on the bed, smiling up at you with a look of amusement.

You huffed and folded your arms. “You’re such a tease,” you said.

Barbatos tilted his head just a little, the damp ends of the longer piece of his hair leaving little trails on his now mostly dry skin. “Am I?”

“Don’t think you can get away with that innocent act,” you said, moving yourself to stand between his knees. “I did what you asked and waited, but I’m not sure I want to continue being good if it means you’re going to tease me all night.”

Barbatos chuckled as his arms wrapped around you, his hands moving up beneath your shirt as he leaned his face into your stomach. “I see,” he said. “Then what is it you would like to do?”

You put your thumb on his chin and lifted his face. “I want you to be good for me.”

You didn’t wait for a response from him, instead leaning down to kiss him. It was bright and heavy at the same time, his lips soft and his tongue welcoming. You pressed your body against him and his knees tightened on either side of you. His hands were moving up and down your back almost languidly.

You could feel the stiffness of his erection beneath the flimsy towel that was still tucked around his waist. You deliberately pressed your leg into it and he moaned into your mouth. The hands on your back began to tug at your shirt.

You pulled back and looked down at him, his mouth open, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes out of focus.

“You’re being rather impatient, aren’t you?” you said, your voice a little breathless.

Barbatos nuzzled his face against you. “You’re the only one who could possibly make me impatient, MC. You know this.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “I know,” you said and you did. In every moment, Barbatos was calm and composed and he could probably wait for eternity if he had to. But when it came to you, he allowed himself to be a little more needy, a little bit clingy. It was everything to you.

And you didn’t really feel the need to make him wait. But you did want to hear him say it.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” you said.

Barbatos looked up at you, his eyes sparking with a green fire unlike anything you’d seen from him so far. It was accompanied by a deep blush that spread across his face. There was something he wanted, but he seemed reluctant to say it out loud.

You waited, running your fingers across his cheeks and down the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered closed as he enjoyed your touch.

Barbatos sighed against your skin. “I want to feel you inside me,” he said.

You nearly reeled with the impact these words had on you. The way his voice had sunk to nearly a whisper, half muffled as his mouth was still pressed against you, the blush that deepened and spread. It was unlike him to be so shy, normally he exuded confidence.

It was almost too much, but the fire in your belly was enough to fuel you. There was no way you wouldn’t give him exactly what he wanted.

You cupped his cheek, forced him to look up at you. “In that case, it’s your turn to be good and wait.”

Barbatos kept his eyes on you as you moved away from him. The expression on his face was just as it had been before - open and needy - but he sat still and waited as you had requested.

You took your time removing your own clothing piece by piece. You glanced at him occasionally, watching the way his eyes roamed across your skin. But he didn’t move, in fact, he barely blinked.

You made him wait longer as you folded each piece of clothing, creating a little pile on his bedside table. You let him continue waiting as you opened the drawer of the table to find the things you would need to fulfill his request.

When you finally returned to him, you put your hand on his cheek again. “See? You can be patient when it comes to me, too.”

Barbatos chuckled. “Only at your request.”

You pushed on his shoulders until he was lying back on the bed. You hooked your fingers into the towel and pulled it off of him with a flick of your wrist. His cock looked so pretty and swollen, but you held back from touching it.

Instead you slathered your fingers with lubricant, leaning down over him, and gently prodding at his entrance. To your satisfaction, Barbatos relaxed, allowing you to slip a finger in easily. He responded with a tiny gasp, barely audible, and you could tell he was trying to keep his usual composure.

You didn’t give him the space to regain his neutral expression. You moved your finger slow and hard, watching as he bit his lip. When you put in the second finger, he shivered. At the third, he reached up to grip your arms. You slowed down, making sure to stretch him out sufficiently, focused for a moment on your task.

“MC,” Barbatos moaned out your name.

“Hmm?” You pressed kisses to his thighs which were shuddering now.

“Please,” he said.

You loved to hear him beg, but you couldn’t hold back anymore. You pulled your fingers out of him and carefully replaced them with your cock. You loved the way Barbatos whined as you did so.

You leaned over him, resting your forearms on either side of him. You kissed him, slowly, gently, letting him adjust to having you inside of him.

Then you began to move, taking your time with him. You moved out at a crawling pace only to thrust back in much faster. The moan this produced filled you with fire.

You increased your speed, breathing heavily as Barbatos locked his legs around your waist, his fingers digging into your arms.

You noticed the second he shifted into demon form. The horns twitched and shuddered with every moan. The tips of his tail caressed your back, leaving slight trails of dampness as they went.

And then it was your turn to gasp as something cold slipped inside you.

“Ah,” you said, your hips stuttering but not stopping. “Barbatos-!”

Barbatos clutched at your back, his nails digging in. “F-forgive… me…”

He could barely talk, but the fact that he was trying to apologize for putting his tail in you was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. You leaned your head on his chest, pressing your face into his skin. You kissed his chest and said, “Don’t you… dare apologize…”

You were breathless, too, and it was getting worse as Barbatos put both tips of his tail into you. You cried out at the pleasure that ran through you as he began to thrust it in and out with the same rhythm that your hips were somehow still maintaining.

He was squirming beneath you now, his hands raking their way down your back over and over like he needed to hold onto something. You pushed up to look down at him, the way his eyes seemed to be completely out of focus until they locked on yours. And then it was all fire and need and want and -

“Please, please,” he mumbled, the words clearly falling from his lips unbidden. “MC, please-“

You reached between your bodies to stroke his cock. “Be good and come for me,” you said.

Barbatos’s normally subdued voice rang out so prettily when he came in your hand that you found yourself coming, too. Everything quickly became a sticky mess, but neither of you cared.

Barbatos kept his eyes locked on yours as he panted, desperately trying to catch his breath as he came down from his high. You maintained the eye contact as you felt yourself coming down, too. And suddenly you felt very heavy.

“You might as well take another shower at this point,” you said. You were still inside of him and his tail, though still, remained firmly inside of you.

Barbatos ran his fingers down your chest, letting himself feel your skin. “Perhaps you would like to join me?”

You kissed him sweetly, a gentle meeting of lips, lingering for a moment to cherish the taste of him.

Barbatos didn’t wait for your answer to his question. Instead he simply wrapped his arms around you and stood up, effectively carrying you to the bathroom. You laughed into his shoulder the whole way.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[dollypopup]

People who are saying 'it's so sad/annoying that Eloise never realized Penelope was in love with Colin!' and then using that to villify her and claim she was a bad friend to Penelope are. . .so missing the point.

WE know because we see much of the show through Penelope's eyes. Debling knew because Cressida told him. Cressida knew because she had a vested interest in that being the narrative. Violet knew because Colin very obviously asked her about friendship and love, and has a grand total of ONE woman he could have been talking about.

It is not on Eloise to assume truths about Penelope.

Read that again.

It is NOT on Eloise to assume truths about Penelope!

In the same way it was not on COLIN to assume Pen had a crush on him. The thing about trust is that you HOPE that the person you care about will open up to you, and in fact, it is GOOD that Eloise didn't notice. It doesn't mean she was a bad friend, or self centered, but rather that she was of the belief that her friend would be open with her.

That's not unreasonable of her.

How is Eloise meant to listen to a fact that is never voiced, and in fact, is actively denied?

Eloise asked Penelope in Season 2 if she would ever know what it was like to have a crush on someone, the way she had on Theo. Penelope told her STRAIGHT UP "no, I wouldn't know". What did you want Eloise to do? Accuse Penelope of being a liar and then proclaim she was clearly in love with her brother?

Same with Lady Whistledown- Penelope assured multiple times she wasn't LW to Eloise because when Eloise was talking about her, and having theories, and going on a detective chase about it, Penelope never told her she was LW.

The fact that Eloise HAD to assume these things about Penelope was an indication the friendship had problems. And these problems are tied up in Penelope's arc: coming into the light and living her authenticity unapologetically. Because she kept so much close to the chest for so long. 'Eloise didn't listen'. Penelope never SAID ANYTHING about it for her to listen TO.

Now, does that mean Eloise is blameless and saintly and good? No. That would be lame and boring and would do her a disservice in being a complex, interesting female character. The way near all the women in this show are. The truth is that BOTH Eloise AND Penelope were wrapped up in the immediacy of their own lives, and had different goals and interests from one another. In many ways, Eloise and Penelope were together by proximity, rather than aligned in purpose.

But also. . .we are ALL more invested in our own lives than those of our friends. We care for our friends, yes, but we live our own lives first and foremost. And when we have friendships, we trust that they will talk to us about their lives, their truths, their passions, and their hopes and that we will celebrate such with them. Whilst Eloise has ignored Penelope at times, Penelope has also ignored Eloise. Eloise has assumed Penelope to have the same interests in feminism and not in marriage as she does, but Penelope does not talk to her otherwise until they have a fight about it.

It explodes out of her. Comes out, almost against her will.

They have issues communicating. That's relatable.

But people don't want to see the relatability of these women. They want to compare them and pit them against each other, instead of trying to understand BOTH of them.

Listen, the truth is that this fandom has a misogyny problem. We only want to empathize with the woman we see as the most relatable for our own viewing, and any other woman who is in any way contesting their immediate happiness is turned into a villain. In fact, in Polin, it's extended to ANYONE who has done Penelope any form of disservice ever, as if tension and conflict isn't what drives a narrative.

Colin said one thing that was hurtful to Pen? Burn him at the stake. Eloise is hurt by Penelope's secrecy? Well, she should have listened more, and fuck her, she was a bad friend. Marina told Penelope to butt out of her relationship and to stay in her lane? She's evil and cruel and treated Pen horribly. Penelope never did anything wrong, everyone else is the problem.

This denies Penelope her own accountability, her own narrative of growth, firstly,

But secondly, ALL the women in this show have compelling reasons for acting the way they do. Not just the one you like the most.

I see people talking about how they feel so bad for Penelope, that she has undergone so much and has no one to really confide in, that she feels she has no friend with which to unburden herself with: but the same is true for Eloise. She had no one to talk to about the pain and grief she experienced at the end of Season 2, and kept mum about Penelope's identity as LW all throughout. The same was true for Marina, who had been Otherized from the moment she stepped into the ton, and had been physically and emotionally abused by her own family as she faced down a future of potential misery. Why can you see and sympathize from one character's perspective and yet not the other? Why is it okay to proclaim one a villain, and the other an innocent?

If you can feel empathy for Penelope, you better be ready to feel it for Eloise, for Cressida, for Marina, for Kate and Edwina, because ALL these women underwent some very painful circumstances in their lives, and all of them made mistakes that resulted in other people getting hurt. They have all been hero in their own story, and the antagonist in another. As we all are.

How ironic to see 'well, Eloise is terrible because she's' not seeing it from HER perspective!'

when we are doing the same

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

GOD chapter 59 was SO GOOD n i have a lot to say so sending an ask instead of leaving it on the post.

i /love/ when you make things hyper detailed, because your shading techniques are so much fun to sit n stare at and soak in for a while. that being said, the coloring of the wine spilling is what does it for me this time. it still would have been really cool in bw, but not as cool as seeing all the shades of red over the dark blue bg. you did the glass really well too!! I don't think there's a noticeable difference between the wine color inside and outside the glass which is fine bc it's clear, so it RLY makes me appreciate the lighting you have around the glass rim to show the edge in contrast. that tiny little detail makes the image for me. stellar work. i love it

also i do wanna throw in appreciation for the handwritten serif. super well done at first glance it did look like you'd jus typed it out. idk what texture you have on the brush you use for words but it's rly nice to look at up close.

i think the color kinda tipped me off but i waffled bc i couldn't remember if either of his parents spoke in serif font and was a bit daunted to dig thru 50+ chapters to confirm who it was if it didn't turn out to be them. i'm glad i looked at your tags tho haha saved me the trouble. what a way to end the act too!! i read this one on my phone and was scrolling thru the images at full size and after four or so i kept expecting it to cut off. it was a very pleasant surprise to have it keep going, worth the wait to have a longer chapter :)

maybe it jus wasn't meant to be a la sabo getting the letter from sally. it might have to be stelly after all tho there are things that come before then. what a bad time to have one or both of his parents speak to him for the first time that night. oof can't wait for the next act lets goooo

Oh wowww what a beautifully long review!

Thanks so much im glad you like how it turned out, i’m really happy with it, too! Ive never drawn fluids like this before, but i really needed this page to have that extra kick because it was such a short one.

Because i couldnt figure out how to make this moment look slow mo with multiple different panels on one page, I really wanted to make a piece that is like,, frozen in time instead.

A page like this, you can keep on it as long as you’d like. You can make it as slow mo as you want it to be.

The serif lettering is that of outlook’s!

I dont know if you can see the difference between this and my usual handwriting, but it’s supposed to look taller. Higher up. Neater. Cleaner. (Still my handwriting though so like so actually neat or clean, but you know like,,, in comparison to the norm.)

His dad only talks in one scene, and his mother has never said anything yet, so i dont blame you if you couldnt find it. In my. Large repertoire of chapters ive accumulated.

I definitely felt the same about the pages when drawing them. But probably the opposite feeling lol. Mine was more like “ugh i forgot theres so many. How many more of these do I have to get through??? How did i do this the first act ending with 11 pages???”

Im so glad you guys are on the edge of your seats with the letter :)

Thanks for the ask!

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Borrowed Clothing

gojo x fem!reader

length: 6.6k

cw: mild angst, that's p much it

A cutie little Gojo-centric one shot I wrote to cope with everything Gege has put us through, in which Gojo gets to borrow a really cool shirt (amongst other things).

“Gojo?”

He's still in his school uniform, black blindfold covering the upper half of his face, but you didn't need to see his eyes to know something was off. Typically, his posture was one of complete and total ease, loose and open shoulders with long arms falling wherever gravity held them, undoubtedly a habit from being virtually untouchable. The man before you, though, looked like if he got any tenser he’d simply cave in on himself. His usually plush bottom lip was chapped, as if he'd been chewing on it all evening, and there was a slight swell to his cheeks and nose- had he been crying?

“Did you mean it?” He asked, his voice falling out husky and cracked.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means, so he clarifies:

“When you said if I wanted, I could, uhm-” He clears his throat and tosses a look over his shoulder, bouncing anxiously on his heels like he was a normal man on the run from something.

His words jog your memory.

You hadn't seen him in two weeks, but the last time he'd stopped by the diner you worked at he’d ended up convincing you to take your lunch break with him. You always thought he looked a little funny in there, with his high class attire and long gangly limbs fighting for more booth space than was physically possible for him to take up.

Despite his tendency to stand out, he’d been coming in for years. It started when he’d caught you using your water-based curse technique to clean tables faster. Over time the conversation slowly transitioned from trying to get you to join up with Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School to topics that ranged from the weather to the existence of god. You never knew what kind of question was gonna fall out of Gojo's mouth.

Frequently, the two of you discussed jujutsu society. He hated moral arguments and debates but had a love for the craft, though how could he not, being who he was?

It wasn't like Gojo to let you peak into his brain, though. Majority of what came out of his mouth was unhinged, sure, but distinctly detached from any sort of deeper subject matter. You weren't dumb, and you’d definitely caught onto the way he carefully danced around certain topics with jokes and sly subject changes. You got the feeling that he wanted someone to talk with, but didn't really know how to beyond surface level. Couple that with an obvious intellect (buried under a couple hundred fart jokes), and he made for a decent conversationalist.

“I feel like you're my friend, but I’m not really your friend.” You’d told him over the plates of food as the strings of your waitress belt dug into your sides.

“I would never be friends with a weakling like you.” His smirk was devious, bating you into a spat with him, which you’d fallen for, hook, line, and sinker.

“I'm not weak!” You scoff, but you weren't really offended. You played this game with him all the time, Gojo loved a good tease.

“You won't even join us at the school because all you can do with that shitty little curse technique is mop floors.”

There he was again, poking the bear and dancing around what he was actually trying to say. If you had to guess, what he really meant was something along the lines of:

”The fact that you have no interest in utilizing your curse technique disappoints me. You could be doing so much more than food service and I don't understand why you aren't developing your skill.”

So you do your best to communicate your answer to his actual intention:

“It's not a weakness to use a talent for mundane tasks, you dick. For your information, I can do a hell of a lot with my little technique.”

You poke your tongue out at him and he playfully knocks at your ankle under the table, a soft smirk playing on his lips as you continue:

“I mean, when you really think about it, your highness, am I weak because I refuse to use my technique for violence, or are you because you’re a slave to yours?”

You’d truly, honestly meant it as a casual lighthearted roast. The subject matter was serious, sure, but with time you'd come to know Gojo as the type of person you could joke about anything with. He sure had no problem laughing at your expense.

He tried to remain unbothered for the rest of the conversation, but you could tell he was rushing. For once, his laugh had seemed hard and forced. His demeanor had sunken from his typical egotistical borderline-mania into that of a shy theater kid attempting to play a bubbly and jovial character. Before he left, you tried to quell the flames on the bridge it seemed you were actively burning.

“Gojo, are you okay?” You asked as he fished a few bills out of his wallet and tossed them onto the table.

“Of course, why wouldn't I be?”

You wished you could see his eyes, really get a feel for what might be going on in that handsome little head of his.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” You insist, your bottom lip jutting out just slightly as you reach across the table to grab his hand. Just a foot or so away, your hand meets a sort of density in the air, stopping you from getting any closer, and your heart cracks a little. He hadn't used Infinity around you in so long.

“Please. Me? You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that if you wanna work me up.” He smiles, but it's not genuine. His nose always crinkled when he really smiled, it was something you noticed early on, one of your favorite little quirks of his.

Before he left, you'd written down your address and your phone number, and told him if he ever wanted to talk he was free to call or show up whenever.

Honestly, after those few weeks you assumed he was done talking to you. But here he was.

“Of course I meant it.” You nod with a soft smile, opening the door fully and stepping off to the side to allow him entry.

He shuffles past you, tension obvious in his gate with locked knees and his hands clenched in his pockets. You feel the density of his infinity as he passes you and make a mental note that he didn't come unguarded. If he didn't seem so volatile, you’d almost want to laugh at how comically large he looks standing in the living room between your ancient box tv and low set coffee table. He could easily reach up just a few inches above his head and flake off the little bits of plaster from your ancient popcorn ceiling.

Awkward tension settles for what feels like forever as he scopes out your living space. You can't imagine he's ever willingly allowed himself to associate with someone as… financially challenged as yourself. You did your best to make it homey, you really did, but it was hard when your ‘couch’ was actually a loveseat pulled from the side of the road on trash day, and all your wall art was thrifted.

“It smells good in here.” He finally breaks the silence, and you let out a breathless chuckle.

“I just threw some cookies in the oven, actually. I kind of thought for a second there you'd sniffed me out from all the way across town.” You attempt to loosen his demeanor, and he cracks a small grin, but it's tight lipped and forced.

“Did you, uh, wanna talk?” You prod, twisting your fingers nervously in front of you.

Immediately, his half hearted attempt at being humored by you is dropped. He chews on his cheek, one hand coming up behind him to paw at his scalp, the other staying firmly in his pocket as he thinks.

“Yeah,” He breathes “I just-”.

He fidgets uncomfortably, his head tilting as he seems to make eye contact with the ugly brown outdated wood paneling on your walls; you can't tell beneath the blindfold.

He clears his throat “I don't think I really know how.”.

“Okay. That's okay.” You draw a deep breath, nodding slowly and boring a hole into the carpet by his feet with slightly bewildered eyes as you attempt to formulate a plan for how to navigate the situation.

Eventually, you draw a deep breath, closing your eyes just briefly to re-ground yourself. When you reopened them, you stare directly into him, confident that you could do this.

“Tell you what, why don't you hop in the shower? I have some of my ex boyfriend's clothes that you can wear and by the time you get out the cookies should be done. Maybe after you're out of that uniform and have something on your stomach you'll feel a little better, yeah? We can circle back to the talking later.”

He cocks his head to the side, the ghost of his typical smug grin playing on his lips.

“You really think I'm gonna wear your ex's clothes? He obviously has no taste if he let a woman like you walk out.”

You roll your eyes and cock your hand against your hip, far too used to his flirty nature by this point and putting absolutely zero weight on his words. But you knew his games by this point, and felt fairly certain you could lead a horse to water. An intelligent, cocky, annoying, devilishly handsome, certifiably traumatized horse.

“You don't think you could make his sweatpants look good?”

He scoffs, much more comfortable teasing than directly approaching whatever it was that was eating at him, his shoulders loosening a bit.

“Babe, I could make rags look good.”

You let him help himself to your bathroom while you pillage around in your closet for your ex’s leftovers, hoping they'll suffice. He was a pretty tall guy, so you’re to too worried about that, but he was nowhere near as fit as Gojo, though you couldn't imagine anyone would be, what with the exorcism of curses constantly and all.

Eventually, you find a pair of gray sweatpants. Digging deeper into the box, you find a few t shirts. One is black with a gaudy band logo on the front in that heavy metal style lettering you could never make out, another has a rather… mysterious stain on the front, the other one was a gag gift you gave him several years back. Light pink, the front decorated with peace signs, hearts and smiley faces surrounding the words “alpha male” in bold white sparkly cursive lettering. You giggled and threw that one over your shoulder along with the sweatpants. You had a feeling Gojo would appreciate it far more than your ex had.

“Stop jackin’ it! I’m coming in!” You warn with a knock as you lean into the bathroom and place the outfit along with a towel on the counter.

“Damn, I was so close, too!” He sarcastically whines, and you're unsurprised to be able to see his eyes peeking at you overtop the shower curtain.

“How's the weather up there?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff as you gather his uniform off the floor and leave to go throw it in the wash and check on the cookies.

You're just settling into one side of the tiny little loveseat when he emerges, looking much more relaxed, spinning his blindfold around one finger absentmindedly. You eye the t shirt, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from smirking at him, and it only somewhat works.

“I stand corrected-” He groans as he settles into the other side of the loveseat and kicks his bare feet up on the coffee table, his limbs taking up every inch of it with one arm flung all the way across the back and the other dangling lazily off the armrest, still holding his blindfold “-your ex must've fucking rocked. This shirt fucks-”.

You burst into laughter and toss your head back momentarily “I knew you'd like it!”.

You reach forward to hand him the plate of cookies, rolling your eyes incredulously as he immediately shoves one in his mouth and has to do that weird open-mouthed-blow-breathing around it because it's too hot.

“He actually never wore it.” You tell him, and his brow dips in suspicion as he chews “I got it as a gag gift for christmas and he didn't think it was very funny. He assumed I didn't get him an actual present as well.”.

He swallow's harshly, and then groans in overdramatized exaggeration as you reach for the remote “Well, it is an actual gift for me, because I’m keeping this shit.”.

“Who said you could have it?!” You tease as you flip the tv on, hoping the old DVD you were watching would be enough to placate him.

“I did, unless you wanna fight me for it.” His tone is suggestive, and you reach for a cookie, shaking your head and scrunching up your face to signal that it wasn't exactly worth your life.

“I’m gonna wear it under my uniform.” He tells you and you cover your mouth as you stifle a laugh through a mouthful of cookie “And after my students are done battling a tough ass curse in the middle of the city, I'll offer to take them to some fancy ass restaurant as a reward-”

“Gojo!” You protest, but you’re giggling, and so is he.

“The minute we get seated? I’m gonna be all ’Damn, it's hot in here! Is it hot in here to you guys?’ and then take my jacket off for the grand reveal.”

“Megumi is gonna murder you.” You tell him with a grin. You’d never met the kids, but you knew enough about them to pick up on the vibes. Gojo sometimes talked about them like a proud father, but more often than not like an annoying older brother.

“Yeah, yeah-” He waves his hand dismissively and snatches another cookie “Itadori will think it's funny, though.”.

The two of you eventually settle into silence as you eat, and you’re surprised to find that it's not uncomfortable. Gojo, for all his faults, was fun to be around, at least for you. It was just like your lunch breaks. Teasing, taunting, followed by comfortable silence. He carried with him a warmth that you couldn't quite explain, a certain aura of boyishness that made you fuzzy inside.

“You know,” You eventually break the silence “-sometimes I forget you're like, a god amongst men or whatever.”.

He tenses and sits up a little straighter. After his hair had dried he’d slipped his blindfold back on, and you absolutely despised that you couldn't read his eyes. You knew he wore it for logistical reasons, but sometimes you felt like it was just another barrier between him and the rest of the world. Him and you.

“Sorry.” You breathe when he doesn't respond.

He shakes his head and chuckles wryly “Don't be. It's not you, I just-”.

His hands tense and release repeatedly. He was always fidgeting in subtle ways, like he had more energy than he knew what to do with. You often wondered if he'd benefit from some sort of fidget toy.

“I don't see how you can separate me from it. My abilities, I mean. I don't see how anyone could ever separate me from it.”

Your eyebrows raise in concern, and attempting to display some modicum of validation without pushing, you nod, swallowing thickly. You couldn't understand him, couldn't say ‘I get it.’ because you both knew the truth; no one would ever truly get it. So instead you settle for “Okay.”.

“I don't even think I can separate me from it.”

He brings his hands out in front of him, turning them over and you wish, you want so badly to get into that brain of his.

“I think,” he sighs, dropping his hands and tipping his head back “You were right. The other week. I’m a slave to it. I've never been anything but a slave to it-”

“Gojo.” You breathe, and move the plate of cookies to the coffee table to slide closer to him “I didn't mean that for real, I was just joking, I swear-”.

“That doesn't make it any less true.” He argues immediately, and your heart sinks a little when you reach out to touch him and are stopped just a few inches short “My whole life, I've been the Six Eyes and Limitless combo. It's controlled absolutely everything about me from the very beginning.”.

A dam was breaking inside of him, and you could feel it. He was back to being just as tense as he was before, maybe even worse, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms.

“You know Suguru? I told you about him, right?”

You nod. His half friend, half lover from highschool who had defected from Jujutsu Society and gone absolutely batshit. When Satoru told you about him, the conversation always started with a heartwarming or funny story and ended with a casual joke about Suguru turning into a genocidal maniac. You had the feeling the subject was sensitive, so you always just laughed.

“You know what he said to me before he left?”

You shake your head to confirm you didn't and he drew a deep shaky breath.

“He asked me ‘Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?’.”

Silence settles, tense and thick, and you bore holes into the ugly pattern of your couch, sitting on the opposite cushion with your hands folded in your lap.

“In the end,” His voice was raw, choking “I was only my abilities to him, too.”.

He sniffles and you lift your head. You can't see his eyes, but he hides his face in the crook of his arm anyway.

“Gojo, can I hold you? Please?” You damn near whisper.

He doesn't respond, but you feel the energy shift in the room, the air relaxing back into stasis. He had let his infinity down.

You crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs and pulling away the arm that was covering his face, wrapping it around your middle and allowing him to lean into your chest and cry in earnest. Your hands find purchase in his hair, scratching his scalp in soothing motions and then dipping under the neckline of his shirt to do the same between his shoulder blades. His hands grip at the back of your shirt for purchase, twisting the fabric there with force.

“I don't think that's what Suguru meant.” You offer, and he just squeezes you tighter.

“I think, what he was trying to get you to realize was that you have to find yourself beyond your strength. Beyond what you can do for the school or society.”

“Yeah?” It's quiet, muffled into the cloth of your shirt.

“Yeah.” You confirm, moving to cup his cheeks and pull his head back to look at you, which he allows “But also he was a crazy genocidal maniac, so-”.

At this, he laughs weakly, and you smile sympathetically.

“Some people clean diners with their curse technique, some slaughter villages, some have no sense of self beyond it-” Was his sarcastic half-attempt at a joke and you just roll your eyes and wrap him in a bear hug, squeezing him like you wanted him to melt right into your skin.

It feels like forever you just hold him like that.

“If it makes you feel better,” You mutter into the top of his hair “You've always been anything but your stupid curse technique to me.”.

He lifts himself from your chest, leaning back to look up at you “How so?”.

“Well,” you hum, thinking “When I think ’Gojo’ I think of the guy that harrasses me at work-”.

He chuckles, nodding.

“-I think of a devoted, albeit irritating by all accounts, mentor to some fairly kickass kids. I think of a handsome face and an infectious laugh-”

“Oh, now you're just stroking my ego.” He chides.

“No! I’m serious! Shut up for once, big mouth.” You scowl at him but there's no real fire behind it as he shrugs and interlocks his fingers behind his head. He’s trying to act nonchalant but you can see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I think of that one time you dropped by to see me, and you didn't know it but I had just broken up with my boyfriend that morning. I still had to work because I couldn't afford not to but all I wanted to do was stay in bed and cry like a little bitch. But then you showed up and all of a sudden it was bearable.”

He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, humming as his blush creeps from his ears all the way across the exposed portions of his cheeks.

“You mean a lot to me, Gojo.” You tell him, earnestly “And if you woke up tomorrow to find yourself stripped of every little bit of cursed energy- If you showed up at my door just a normal dude- nothing would change.”.

“You promise?” He asks, his voice small and hopeful, almost childlike.

“I swear, Gojo-”

“Satoru. Call me Satoru.”

“I swear, Satoru.”

And then he's pulling you into him by your collar, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, unsurprised to find that he's just as amazing at kissing as he is at anything else. It's precise at first, methodical, slowly pushing boundaries as his hands move to the nape of your neck and his tongue glides across your lips. You grant him entry, feeling the world around you melt as he explores your mouth with his tongue like he couldn't get enough, like he was memorizing all the ways his tongue could slot against yours.

He sucks on your bottom lip, grunting and nipping at the flesh, causing you to gasp and rock against him. He hisses at the friction, his hands moving to your hips to push you down harder, forcing you to feel the way his cock grows harder with every stroke.

It would never, ever be enough to get you off but the fact that you were dry humping Satoru Gojo was enough to have you throwing your head back in search of air, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he licks a stripe from your collar bone to your chin.

“Fuck-” He spits, rocking you harder against his clothed erection “I think I have a praise kink. I've never been so horny in my whole life-”.

At this, you laugh, looking down at him with adoration.

“Yeah, buddy?” You tease and he squeezes your sides to reprimand the action “You want more?”.

His face turned a shade of brick you didn't think possible as he stuttered out a half chuckle “I-I don't- maybe?”.

“Maybe? Just maybe? You're awfully pretty but I'm gonna need a solid answer, Satoru~” You coo, testing the waters. His cock twitches beneath you and his breathing falters. He found his answer immediately.

“Yes, oh my god keep talking-” his whines, his hands fumbling erratically to get you out of your shirt.

“You're such a good boy.” You tell him as he pulls your bra off with a vengeance, like it owed him money “You make me so happy. You know why I haven't made a move on you yet, baby? I just didn't want to lose you, you're so-”.

You cut yourself off with a gasp and a whine as he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand kneading your neglected breast with ferocity and desperation.

“Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop.” His words are aggressive but his tone is high pitched and whiny, needy.

“You're so nice to look at, don't know what I’d do without that gorgeous face.” You look down at him and slide your thumbs along his temples, catching his blindfold and tossing it behind him carelessly “Wanna see your eyes, babe. You're too beautiful to hide from me.”.

He groans against your chest, his hand plunging into the soft material of your pants and immediately toying with your clit.

You couldn't believe this was actually happening. You’d always thought he was attractive, but that was just the thing. You and every other person with eyes. You hadn't allowed yourself to ever even toy with the idea of fooling around with Gojo because, well, he was Gojo. How had you ended up here, watching the pupils of his inhumanly gorgeous eyes blow wide and roll back in his head as he drew the world’s most perfectly timed circles on your clit?

“So good, Satoru. So fuckin’ good-” You keen, tugging back on the snowy silk of his hair to expose his throat to you, lapping at the skin there with as much adoration as you can muster. His fingers prod at your entrance and you experimentally suck hard against the sweet pale skin of his neck.

“Fuck, fuckfuck-” he sputters, sinking his pointer and index into you almost in reward to your action, curling and shifting until he hits that spongey spot that has you whimpering against his throat and rocking you hips in time to meet his movements “God damn, you're so tight. Can't wait to ruin it, baby. Just like I always wanted-”.

“You-” You jerk back to meet his gaze with a shocked expression “You thought about this before?”. He picks up pace, this speed brutal and almost too much and yet so, so delicious. Just like him.

He grins, devilish “Only every night since I first laid eyes on you. You have no idea how many times I’ve cum to the thought of you.”.

He's speaking over your mewls, delighting in the way your face twists and contorts with every thrust. Your indistinguishable sounds meld more and more into words until you're saying nothing but his name, over and over, and he feels your cunt fluttering around his fingers. Before you can cum, he withdraws, smirking like the cheeky little prick he is as you whine at the empty feeling.

“Satoru! I was gonna-!” He plugs your mouth with his soiled fingers, groaning as he swipes them back and forth over your tongue.

“What was that?” He asks tauntingly.

“I don't think I quite caught- ah, haha, fuck!” He giggles as you glare and bite down on his fingers in protest and he responds by shoving them in further, causing you to gag just a bit while his other hand dips below the band of his sweats, stroking himself in earnest. You get the hint and swirl your tongue along the length of his fingers in earnest, bobbing your head and moaning as if it were his cock poking at the back of your throat.

“Can't take it anymore, need you so bad-” He pants, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and bringing his hand around your head to pull you forward by your hair to kiss you, shuffling downwards until he's fully flat beneath you- well, almost. He's entirely too tall for your sad excuse of a sofa, one knee cocked awkwardly beneath you and the other dangling down onto the floor.

You giggle at him against his lips as he completely ignores what has got to be the most uncomfortable position in the world, pawing at your waistband desperately like he couldn't stand to see them on you for another second.

“C’mon, needy-” You tease as you lift yourself off of him, offering out your hand “Bedroom.”.

He looks like he wants to protest, but takes your hand anyway, playfully smacking your ass and causing you to yelp as you lead him down the short hallway to your bedroom.

“Aye!” You chastise and he just giggles like a little boy.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He sounds ridiculously satisfied with himself.

The minute you're over the threshold of the bedroom you go ahead and rid yourself of your bottoms, finding a sense of pride in the way he shamelessly eyes you over, swallowing thickly, red in the face.

“Mm? What is it, Satoru?” You purr, reaching up to pull his face down to meet your lips, sighing as he swirls his tongue against yours languidly.

“You're so pretty. So pretty.” He murmurs against your lips, and you smile against him. You knew there was a really sweet man underneath his teasing nature, and hearing it poke through has butterflies erupting in your belly.

Your kiss your way from his lips to his jaw, down his neck, nipping at his skin along the way until your kneeling in front up him, planting teasing kisses to the bulge in the front of his pants, loving the way his hands shake at the contact as they move to pet your hair.

“Y/n” He strains, and it sounds like a warning. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow is furrowed, all his effort seemingly being used to restrain himself.

You hum in question, mischievously giggling as you tug at his sweatpants until they're pooling around his ankles, watching in awe as his cock springs free. He's huge, of course he's huge. He's Satoru Gojo. Your cunt clenches in anticipation, and you want nothing more than for him to rearrange your guts, but you sit on that feeling for the moment, unwilling to let the opportunity to get back at him for ruining your orgasm go to waste.

From there, you start at the inside of his knees, trailing sloppy kisses along the smooth inside of his thighs, and he lets out little pitchy whines in between breaths that tickle your ears and pet your pussy. You can feel your own arousal seeping down your bare legs, desperate for him.

“If you don't put my dick in your mouth, like, yesterday I am gonna loose my shit-” His eyes open, just barely as he watches you, sputtering out a low and throaty moan as you apply little kitten licks to his balls, bringing up one hand to thumb over the head of his cock and smear the precum leaking out of the tip across his frenulum.

“That so?” You murmur against the skin of his sack before pulling it into your mouth, stroking the top half of his dick at a tantalizing pace.

“Ah, holy shit-” He bucks into your hand, aching for more as your cheeky little giggle makes your lips vibrate against him “I’m s-so serious, y/n. You're playing with fire.”.

“I'll take my chances.” You smirk up at him.

“Don't.” He warns, his voice teasing but breathy, and then hisses as you drag the pointed tip of your tongue against the underside of his shaft, eyes full of mischief and ignoring him completely.

“Three.”

You raise your eyebrows in mocking question. Was he giving you a countdown?

You press your lips to the tip of his cock, pressing almost chaste kisses to the slit. He shudders.

“Two.”

You love the way he accidentally slips into sensei mode sometimes. It has you dripping. You want him to put you in your place.

You swirl your tongue around the tip and pump him once, twice-

“One.”

You look on your face was pure joy as you pushed your tongue out and flattened it against the underside of his cockhead, shaking your entire head back and forth teasingly.

“You're done.” He chuckles as the hands that had been loosely caressing your hair all of a sudden tangle hard in the locks and slam you down on his cock with reckless abandon, causing you to cough and gag around his girth.

The groan that escapes him is fucking music to your ears as he fucks your face with fervor, one hand coming down to rest under your jaw and feel himself poking at the tender muscle if your throat from the outside. You can't breathe, and you don't want to. You can't think, and you don't want to. In this moment, you only want to exist for him to use as he sees fit. As degrading as it is, as fucking disgusting as you feel with tears and drool streaming down your face, it turns you on to no end.

“Goddamn it, babe-” He grunts, pulling you off of him with a single fist in your hair, staring down at you with a heaving chest as he watches the strings of spit stretch and snap from his cock to your mouth in awe.

For a moment, all is silent, nothing but the sound of your mixed heavy breathing coating the room. And then your eyes wander from his face to his chest and you absolutely burst out laughing.

“Wha- Hello?” He starts giggling too when you snort, your forehead resting against his muscular thigh and your hands gripping his knee for some sort of purchase. You aren't sure if you're crying because you're laughing or because you just had approximately ten inches of cock crammed down your throat.

“I can't-” You wheeze, trying desperately to communicate “I can't take you seriously in that fuckin’ shirt!”.

He looks down with wide eyes and barks out a laugh “Dude, I totally forgot!”.

His hands find yours, pulling you to your feet as you both cackle, any dominant tension completely obliterated as you giggle into the fabric of that stupid fucking shirt.

He tips you back to press his lips to yours before muttering against you:

“You’re so fun. Get your goofy ass on this bed so I can fuck you stupid, dork.”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Thankfully, he does remove the shirt before he goes to settle over top of you, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. He eyes you incredulously as you push on one side of his chest, guiding him to lay down flat on his back.

“You sure you can keep up with me?” He asks, impressed and a little playfully flummoxed at your bold decision.

“It's not that-” You take his hand and let him guide you, whimpering as you settle over his waist and his cock makes much needed contact with your clit “I just wanna take care of you, Satoru. Let someone else do the work for once.”.

He hisses as you rock the head of your clit against him, whining at the delicious friction for a few moments, killing two birds with one stone; giving you both pleasure and lubing him up with the steady stream of arousal that was seeping out of you. Deciding you’re ready, you lift up a bit, reaching underneath you to help guide the tip of his cock into your hole.

“Condoms?” He whimpers, something resembling common sense seeping through the lust filled haze.

“No need, unless you're not clean.” You grab his hand and guide him so he can feel the implant under your bicep.

He manages to throw you a look, full of faux-offense “Why would I be the one with the STD?”.

You just stare at him for a moment, your face all-knowing, until the two of you erupt into giggles again. You hoped he never matured. This version of him was your favorite.

He playfully smacks your ass “Hurry up, I wanna feel you- ah, ah fuck-”.

You sink down onto him slowly, watching his face fall open in pleasure with every inch deeper. Halfway down, his eyes roll back and his hands find purchase on your hips, willing you down a little quicker than you’re ready for but you allow it, too satisfying with the way he's blubbering beneath you, too satisfied with the stretch of him stuffing you to the absolute brim.

For a moment, you still, breathing heavy and bracing yourself against his abdomen with your palms as you struggle to adjust. You swore you could feel him in your throat.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs, his hands twitching at your sides, fighting his last shred of sanity as you nod and brace yourself to begin bouncing on his cock. His grip tightens on your waist and he says your name to grab your attention.

“Not yet, you'll tear something. Start like this-” He moves your hips with a vice grip, rocking you back and forth instead of up and down, every roll of your hips causing him to grind against your g-spot just right. It feels like lightning shooting through your core and you find yourself letting out little whimpers with every motion. Eventually he takes his hands off you and places them behind his head, alternating between watching with adoration in his eyes the place where your centers meet and the way your face scrunches in pleasure as you chase your high.

“That's it, baby.” He praises, breathless “Look at you, taking me so well. How's it feel, hm?”.

“So good, ‘Toru-” You keen as the pressure builds, and builds, and builds; fluttering you eyes closed and rocking faster, you miss the way his eyes sparkle at the new name. One of his hands reaches forward to thumb your clit in time with your movements and your pussy clenches around him in response, twitching and quivering around him as you dangle dangerously close to the edge.

“Oh my god, yes! ‘Toru- fuck- gonna cum, pleaseplease-!”

“Cum for me, baby-” His other hand reaches forward to push three fingers against your waist with a bit of force, just above your pubic bone and holy shit- Where'd he learn that trick?

The added pressure had your vision blurring white as you cried out a blended song of pleasure, collapsing into his chest as he groaned beneath you, his thumb still circling your clit as he helped you ride out your high.

You’ve barely had the time to collapse against his chest before he takes control from underneath, pounding into you with force. There's no pain save the overstimulation as the high of your previous orgasm never really ended, and all you can feel is him. He surrounds you, and invades you, bullying his tongue into your mouth with fervor, keening and whining with every thrust. He sounds so desperate. You're ears struggle to make out which sound is his and which is yours.

The overstimulation builds to a point you've yet to experience, tears pooling in your eyes and streaking down your face, shaken loose with the force of every thrust that rocks your body and smooths your brain.

“S-satoru-!” You cry out “Too much, please, it's too much-!”.

“Nonono-” He shushes you through pained and ragged breaths “I’m almost there baby just a little more. You can do that f’me, yeah? Be good, be good-”.

He thrusts become a little uneven as he shamelessly chases his own high, and you openly sob as he brings one hand to the nape of your neck and snakes one arm around the small of your back, pulling you entirely flush against him.

“Thank you, baby- fuck, thank you thankyouthank-” He babbles in your ear, barely above a whisper, and the sound is enough to send another oragasm rolling over you- or maybe the first one never really ended.

Instinctively, your teeth latch onto his shoulder and he hisses as his hips stutter and stall, hit ropes of cum coating your walls for what feels like forever. With a whimper, he shallowly thrusts a few times, fucking his cum into you as far as possible before slowly pulling out.

Slowly, he goes limp, his hold on you becoming loose and languid as you both catch your breath.

Eventually, he flips you down behind him, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his head into the soft valley of your shoulder.

“Satoru,” You complain “I’m gross-”.

Kiss-bitten lips press soft kisses to your shoulder, and he hums in acknowledgment, but doesn't let you up.

find me elsewhere here

[cosmicvenusnebula]

⋆☾⋆ Meme post ⋆☾⋆

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Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor x Gn!Reader

Au: Canon Universe

Description: Random scenarios with the demon bro's, most of them revolve around gaming.

Contents: Fluff, Cussing, Silly Anger and Angst, Silly Writings,

Word Count: 940 words

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♥ Lucifer ♥

"No. Absolutely not."

"Come on Lucifer pleaseeeee! Just this once!" You beg, trying to convince the eldest brother to indulge in your interests for once.

"I have better things to do than play video games" Lucifer says with venom, what would Diavolo think if he slacked off to play games with some human?? Lucifer couldn't risk it, so he continued to go through the stacks of paperwork on his large desk.

"Afraid you would lose old man? Too pussy to play against a human?" You knew you were playing with fire by insulting him, even playfully, because if Mammon had said that he would be tied upside down, hanging from a chandelier somewhere in the house of lamentation.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?!" ... Uh-oh. "You've got some nerve, I just hope that nerve is brave enough to groom Cerberus after you lose." Lucifer stands up from his desk, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the common room where the shared gaming console is.

♥ Mammon ♥

"Huh?! You think you can beat the Great and Powerful Mammon at gambling?? HAHAHA ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS??" The demon of greed almost keels over from laughter, slapping his knee at the joke he thinks your making.

"Yes, I am completely and utterly serious. How about this, winner not only gets all the money, but also the title of Devildoms best gambler, and loser has to slap Lucifer in the face." You smirk, knowing Mammon will do anything to win as the embodiment of greed, he wins at everything when money is involved. However, you have a trick up your sleeve.

You talk the rest of the brothers into playing poker with you and Mammon, except for the eldest. They are all willing to cheat and help you with your little trick just to see the chaos unfold when he has to slap Lucifer.

The whole game, everyone gets amazing cards, everyone except for Mammon. Unfortunately for him, you use your pact to force him into placing down his cards every time, losing more and more money until he eventually loses the game, and all the brothers immediatly forfeit after that, leaving you as the technical winner.

~ ~ ~ Not long later ~ ~ ~

"MAMMONNNNN COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT, I'M GONNA TEAR YOU APART AND FEED YOU TO BEEL"

♥ Leviathan ♥

You just got a brand new video game, one that is only available in the human world, but due to Diavolo favoring you, he found a way to get it in Devildom stores for limited time.

"How....how did such a normie get this game down here!"

"I asked Diavolo...."

"And he agreed? He went through that much trouble to give a normie some random video game? OMG Lollllolollol! *random video game ramble*"

"Just put the damn game in and turn on two controllers."

♥ Satan ♥

"She's mine Lucifer!" Satan yells, dragging you out of Lucifers office. "W-We were just playing Chess, what the hell are mad about?"

"I'm mad that you are alone with a man like Lucifer. I don't want him rubbing off on you."

Satan drags me away from Lucifers room, dragging you like he is holding you hostage. He takes you back to your room, securing you on his lap as you watch documentaries.

"You didn't have to drag me away from your brother. I get you hate him, but my god- "

"It's just...we are so similar I don't want to see you fall for him instead."

♥ Asmodeus ♥

"Really~? You wanna play with me~? I guess it was only a matter of time before you fell for my charm~"

"A-Asmo....I meant the succubus rpg game-"

"Oh...well thats a lot less fun. Oh well! Lets go play."

Once you go to your room, you get the game up and suddenly Asmo pulls you into his lap. "Uhh? What're you doing?"

"Just getting comfortable. I can't stand being without your touchhh~" You just ignore him as both of you begin to set up your characters.

♥ Beelzebub ♥

"Nonononono!!! Beel that isn't food!" You freak, trying to get the candle out of his hands.

"Huh? But it smells good." Beelzebub pouts at you, and you feel like you've just kicked a puppy.

"Just, put that down darling." I put my hand over his and lower it back down onto the table, making him drop my scented candle. "Lets go get you some cheeseburgers." Beel nods ferociously, mouth already drooling at the thought.

You take him to the 24 hour magic food place in-between the campus housing. Their menu is anything you want, they use magic to conjure up the tastiest version of what you request.

"Feel better?" You ask, smiling softly at his silly nature. "Very much. Thank you Mc." He talks with his mouth full, shoving as many cheeseburgers as he can straight into his stomach.

♥ Belphegor ♥

"Belphiiieee, wake up!" You try to shake the sleepy demon awake, wanting to show him a new game you bought for your Devilswitch.

Suddenly his tail wraps around you and he pulls you into his bed with him, his chest against your back. He rests his head on your shoulder, slightly opening his eyes enough to see your switch. "Mhm, nice. How did you get the money for that?"

"I sweet-talked Leviathan to buy it for me, he wanted it to and it has a co-op option so."

"You could have asked me. I never spend any of the money I get, too tired to ever go out."

"I tried, you wouldn't wake up."

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I hope you guys enjoyed! It's 1am and I just wanted to get a quick debut fic out! This is my first fic on this account :)))