#LITTLE FIRE LAMP REAL!!!!

[tinythebunni]

bratty baby

Bratty Reader x ages up!Earth 42!Miles Morales

Pink is readers texting/speaking

Purple is Miles texting/speaking

Miles is 18 in this one!

🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾

“Ion give a fuck what plans you and your lil friends had tonight, I said don’t go out so you’re not goin out.”

For the past two months, Miles has been getting more and more controlling over what you can and can’t do and telling you when you can go out with your friends. It’s been getting on your nerves and while it’s very, very attractive, it’s pissing you off. You barely see your friends anymore and you hate being inside.

“You’re not being fair Miles! I never get to see my friends anymore and I miss them and they miss me!” Even through text he could tell you were pouting right now. Miles could just imagine you kicking your feet on your bed.

“So what, I’m just not enough for you? I’m all you need amor, why do you wanna go see them so badly? You don’t need them.”

“Miles, you know that’s not at all what I’m saying, I’m just saying that I miss my friends and I wanna see them!”

He didn’t understand why you couldn’t get what he was trying to tell you. He just needed you to not go out at night, especially tonight. He couldn’t tell you about him being the Prowler, it’d break your hot pink heart.

“And what I am telling you is that you’re not going out tonight.”

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do Miles. I’m not your fucking kid!” You were getting angrier by the minute, every word, burned and angered you even more. Usually you’d just listen to him and stay inside like he asked, but tonight you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed his buttons just a little more…

“You talkin real crazy right now, mamí. Ima let it slide tho because I know you’re just mad and in ya feels. But don’t ever say sum crazy shit like that again, because I remember what happened last time you wanted to be bad and go against what I say. Why not run it back, whatchu say ma?”

You stayed silent, fuming and thinking. He was being so unfair and you had no idea why. You didn’t like being left in the dark and he knew this.

“Now this conversation is over, I got shit to do.”

“You right, this conversation is over. Fuck you Morales.”

You silenced your phone and with a shaky hand and butterflies in your stomach, you put your coat on and walked out your house.

After about 20 minutes you started to feel bad. You didn’t know why you were so mean and disobedient to him. You knew he only wanted what was best for you, all he ever did was spoil you and make you feel special. Even though you felt guilty, the fire in your stomach from the anticipation of what was to come made you feel even better.

You had just walked out the door of the club you and your friends went to and started your route home when you heard a noise behind you. You looked around but found nothing. You sped up your pace and started to walk towards your house when you heard it again, this time next to you.

When you looked over, you saw nothing but an empty street and a few lamps on. You continued your walk when something hit your head. You could feel yourself falling but didn’t feel the concrete below you. The last thing you saw being purple AF1’s.

🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾

When you woke up, you were back in your house, an ice pack under your head and blankets pulled up to your chin. You heard your tv on in your living room and quickly got up to investigate. When you opened the door, you were met with the sight of your boyfriend in your couch, sitting there like nothing had happened. His legs spread, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. The thing that caught your eye was the mechanic claw on his right hand.

When he noticed your presence he looked up at you and tilted his head. The glare on his face reignited that fire in your stomach. He stared at you, saying nothing at all as you shifted on your feet, nervous.

When you finally did decide to speak, your tone came out nervous and shaken and not at all like how you meant for it to sound.

“Why are you in my house Miles?”

“I can’t just come over when I wanna?”

“Answer my questions for once! Why are you in my house and why do you have on that same claw that the vigilante on the news wears?”

He knew you were a little daft but he didn’t expect this kind of idiocy.

“C’mon baby, put two and two together. I know you’re smarter than ya look.”

You knew the truth but you didn’t wanna believe it. You stayed silent, staring at him and fiddling with your hands. You were overwhelmed with fear and arousal, confusing you even more than ever.

Once he recognized the look of understanding on your face, he leaned back and curled his finger towards you in a demanding way.

“C’mere, we gotta talk.”

You sat down on the couch next to him, thighs touching and your gaze locked on the ground.

“Don’t be like that, look at me mamí”

When you looked at him, he could see the betrayal in your eyes. But he could also see the need and wanting. Feeling naked under his gaze, you looked back down at your floor,

“You’re him? You’re the guy from the news?” You voice quivered as you spoke, shaking from either fear or the amount of need and attraction you’re feeling right now. This man has killed people, he could kill you at any point! So why does that thought turn you on so much?

“Oh so now you wanna talk?” He asked, a lilt in his tone that let you know he was smirking without even having to look at him

“Don’t be mean Miles. This isn’t the time for jokes.”

“Yea I’m him, what’s it matter to you?” You knew that under the anger and accusation in his voice that he was feeling vulnerable. You crawled on his lap and laid your head on his shoulder and hugged him.

He froze at first, confused with the random affection, but slowly accepted the warmth. “I love you regardless of what you’re doing and who you’re killing.”

Miles almost wanted to scream at you to be afraid of him. He’s killed people. He’s hurt people, innocents even! Why weren’t you running?

You pulled back and reached up to cup his face and inched closer to him, looking down at his lips for permission. He closed the gap between you two and kissed you softly, like he missed you. It was warm and passionate, it wasn’t like this often. You didn’t often get this softness from him. But when you did, it made you feel like the most special girl in the world.

When you pulled back for air, you smiled, giddy with the thought of having your boyfriend back and not mad at you. But when he spoke to you, you knew you were in trouble.

“Don’t think I forgot what happened earlier. I was the one who brought you home, laid you down and tucked you in.” Miles looked down at you, smiling as if something was funny. You couldn’t move, the grip he had on your hips was tight, almost like a warning.

“Are you gonna hurt me?” You knew the answer, you always did. You knew what happened when you disobeyed him and what he says. You remembered what happened the last time.

Miles laughed, a loud hearty one, head tilted back and canines exposed. He chest shook with laughter and you shook in fear on his lap. When he looked down at you once more, he looked different, almost predatory.

“Oh chiquita, Ima do so much more.”

[milkzoro]

fuck around & find out

summary: y/n is curious to how aces devil fruit powers work

a/n: i wanted to do ace cuz first, uhmm that’s my man. and second!!! the vibes are sooo fall rn & i love the cold weather,,,, so enjoy <3

warnings: MDNI, pussy eating, backshots, cowgirl, soft!ace (i luv him)

☆彡

~

it’s the cold months on the ship that have you cravinggggg some warmth, whether that be from your heated blankets, your warm coffee in the mornings, or late night fires with the crew… you just loved the warmth, especially this time of year. the ocean was getting colder the more up north we sailed causing freezing mists to come up and hit the deck. you’ve been hanging around ace more often too, attracting to him like a moth to a lamp. while he was back on board, you took advantage of your friendly little flame~

you are laying together with ace all cuddled up and cozy in his bed, he has a campfire scented candle burning brightly in the corner of his room. admiring the man before you makes your tummy feel warm and nostalgic.

he has you so close, arms pressed side to side as you’re both laid against the pillows resting on the back of his headboard. one of his hands start to peak out of the blankets, he stretches his fingers before hyping you up, getting you ready for his next move. “mkay i call this,,,, wizard fingers.” you can never take him seriously, your cheeks are so sore from all the smiles he’s stolen from you. wizard fingers??? this can’t be real.

ace wiggles his fingers before you as you see each one of them ignite with small little flame. you giggle. “shouldn’t they be called lighter fingers? you literally look like you’re about to go burn a candle.” he groans next to you. “oh my god y/n. you didn’t let me finish!” you stare at his hands as he starts to manipulate each of the flames from his fingers.

he pulls four of them back into his fist leaving just his index finger ignited. the flame starts to form little letters. each flash was a letter from your name. flash. flash. flash. you smile even more, he’s such a dork.

“it’s pretty cool, i know.” he smirks “wasn’t like i was even practicing or anything.” you think he’s so full of himself but you can’t help but admire, he warms your heart. your cold hands are on his body as he still has you close. his powers are so interesting. all of this came from just eating a fruit? you can’t contain your thoughts as you think of all the possibilities, he’s so warm.

maybe it was the skin on skin that were feeding your delusions but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of what he feels like.

he tucks his hands back away under the covers moving to hold your hands in his. you still haven’t answered him, your mind was still deep in the clouds. “okay maybe i was practicing,, getting it legible was kinda hard.” he laughed and you felt his chest move against your arm. “hmm?” you recollect your thoughts. ace looks at you. “were you for real not listening, y/n. that was cool! right!?” he looks at you to make sure you are finding this entertaining. “ahh sorry just not thinking right haha-” you mumbled and he looked puzzled, he shifted under the blankets to wrap his arms around you and pull you in a hug. his chin rested on the top of your head. “what do you mean.” his body burned hotter trying to warm you up.

“jus thinking about you- err well your devil fruit powers.” you curse yourself. but glad that you’re faced with his chest instead so that he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face right now. he laughed at you again. “what’s so special y/n. i just get warm. ‘m happy you like it though.” his arms tighten around you, squeezing you softly. your tummy was doing flips again, the way he had a grip on you sent shivers to your core. the feeling of his firm, scorching arms had you craving more from him. you knew he was teasing you though. he always would, he knew how much you loved his fiery touch and playful behaviors.

you’re face to face with him again, seeing red flames in his eyes. heat spreads to your face as his eyes lock on yours, waiting for any reaction from you. you’re lips hesitate to speak. “you- you get warm… everywhere?” your eyes avoid his. his hand gripped your thighs right below your ass, softly tugging on you to get your leg wrapped around his torso. you feel his hot fingers brushing away the stray hairs that were messily covering your face. it burned hot. his face proved that he found your embarrassment amusing.

“wanna find out?”

~

ace kisses you softly. his hot hand reaching up the softness of your shirt and leading themselves to your perked nipple. his hands are so rough, much different than the way his lips feel. he kisses the side of your mouth and whispers softly to you, “you’re still so cold?” he giggles as he watches you squirm at his touch.

“ace, your portholes are open. it’s fucking cold in here.” you whine trying to keep his heated fingers on you. his amused grin has you needy and irritated. you reach for his hands again. “just a second babe, let’s get ya shirt off.” ace helps to fully undress you with sturdy hands. a shiver leaves your body, covering you in goose bumps as the cool sea breeze hits your skin. “i’ll getcha all warmed up baby.”

he takes his hands and starts massaging the creases of your hips. kneading and pulling on your plush skin, slowly working his tepid hands all the way up your torso. the heaviness in his touch relieved so much within you, moaning at his warmth and his strength. he is manhandling you with you such softness and love.

hot palms come up to cup under your breasts tenderly, dipping his head down and sucking against your pretty nubs. his tongue swirls around each one leaving a string of warm saliva connecting from your buds to his lips. “are we gettin there, pretty? how do you feel?” wanting more, you pull him so that his chest meets yours. he buries his face into your neck and softly suckles. his breaths are hot there. “m still cold ace, wanna feel you” you whine for him.

his lips curl into a smile against your skin, he knew exactly what you craved. “how do you want it angel?” his clothed thigh pushes against your needy cunt, collecting many fifty whines from you. his fire ignited something warm inside of you, you need it to burn brighter.

his body shuffles down the bed, inching his face to be face to face with your sleep shorts. ace wants your juices dripping down his face, seeing you twitch for him has him starving. impatiently, he removes your shorts and panties, tossing them to the floor. he takes your hands with his own while he plays with you devilishly with his tongue, squeezing your palms slightly when he feels you try to move away.

his tongue attached to you like a magnet, chasing every move, he wouldn’t let you get away. he squeezes your hands again, “that’s it baby, such a good girl.” his tongue drawing little clouds on your swollen clit. “doin so good, can’t get enough of ya y/n~” he gulps all of your juices, sucking you clean. “haah- fuck acee. mm so close.” the tip of his nose brushed against the point of your clit as he slid his lips to your weeping hole, drinking even more of you.

he flicks back and forth from your hole to your clit with his tongue. removing one of his hands from yours, he reaches for the plump of your thigh. he squeezed harshly, assuring you to cum for him. his tongue moved swiftly with your slick allowing you to reach your orgasm. “ace! ‘m cuh- cumming!! shiiit right there haa-“ the sight of his glistening face sent an aftershock to your cunt, his smirk was so sexy while he was covered with your juices.

ace’s cock ached in his boxers, there were little dark spots littered across the fabric from his precum. “can ya do one more for me baby doll?” whimpers leave your lips while your head slightly nodded for him. “you did so good fa me y/a~ now you ready to feel this dick cupcake?”

~

your pussy was already sopping for him but still there was a little resistance when he slid into you. ace moaned breathily at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. “fuuu- shit y/n- feel so fuckin good mmmf~” his hot hands pushed down on your low back as your pussy was busy sucking around his cock.

your eyes watered at the shear width of him, he was spreading your sore cunt so deliciously. you felt your second orgasm start to form within your overstimulated core. he reached your cervix with one final slow push. once fully fitted around his length, you fucked back on him, slowly grinding your ass against his hard thighs.

ace tried to muffle his moans with his hand but you stripped them from him, he couldn’t be quiet. his deep moans echoed in his small cabin, ricocheting deep in your pulsating cunt. you throbbed for him, he curved upwards directly hitting your sensitive spot. ace gripped both sides of your ass to speed up his pace. pulling you hard against his reckless thrusts. he was getting sloppy. each thrust was met with the clapping of your cheeks on him, he groaned with each contact hit.

“wanna look atcha-“ he flipped you around to face him. you whined at the sudden emptiness but sighed as he soon filled you back up again. “don’t worry mama, wasn’t gonna take it from you.”

his voice was going blurry in your ears, dick so good you’re hearing auditory hallucinations. he took hold of your hips again while you sat on top of him, he rocks against you slowly.

you miss his mouth, his warmth~ wanna taste him again. your arms detach from his shoulders to hang loose around his neck, forehead rested against his while he fucks up into you. you’re ready, you wanna cum around him. pussy numb from feeling his tip abuse your cervix. “mm so close ace, please fuck me-” nonsense spilling from your lips, he is fucking you dumb.

your eyes are heavy as you try to line your lips up with his, drool sliding around both of your faces. he connects with you and sucks feverishly on your swollen lips. ace begins to pull you up and down on his veiny cock, bouncing you sporadically. the tightness in your eyes not helping you postpone your orgasm. “mmm ahh huhh- f-fuckk gonna- agh i’m cumming baby!!!!” the pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, it’s almost too much. your legs start to tremble as you effortlessly squeeze and clench around his width. “fuck cum in me ace- warm me up~” your wall’s are contracting around his poor, twitching cock while you milk him~ his breaths were shaky and irregular as he chased his own release.

“y/nnn-“ his husky voice filled your ears as you saw him cum inside of you. hips shuttering as his orgasm strikes him. pretty black hair sticking to the beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, his eyes tightened as he grunted out your name a few more times. glistening before you, he looked so ethereal..

~

* we are cuddling and warm and soo in luv !!! *

[decaying-church]

Kinktober Day 4: Hate Sex + Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman x male!reader

Kinktober 2023 List | Day 1 | Day 5 | Ao3

(a/n: shout out to the people that sent request for today yall came in clutch. )

Summary: Working for Patrick Bateman was hell. A hell that seemed to improve after he tried to kill you

Warning: rough sex, these bitches hate each other, reader has a thing for bloody men, Patrick tries to kill reader, then they fuck, fucking on desk, slight voyeurism, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, fucked over a desk, reader gets his dick sucked, reader being a bad Dom (cuz they hate eachother), not beta reader, not even a little bit, errors that will be fixed tomorrow cuz I'm sleepy.

Words: 1968

It wasn’t hard to hate Patrick Bateman, he was an entitled asshole to the misfortune of both you and him, you were his new secretary.

Well “new” as in most recent, as his last one had good missing, while you didn't like the idea of becoming the secretary of a rich man whose secretaries consistently went missing, you didn't really have a choice, rent was due and they offered to pay you on a biweekly basis, which you really needed, so you joined the team.

But god, Patrick was the most insufferable prick you’ve ever met. So demanding and so fucking needy and impatient and selfish and cruel and inappropriate with every word he spoke to you.

You hated him, and he hated you.

He resented you because he wasn’t attracted to you, you weren’t the pretty, female secretary he was used to. You could tell he liked having that power over women from the way he treated other people secretaries, kind and flirtatious before some kind of switch seemed to flip in his mind mid interaction and he was suddenly he was his true self, a needy, perverted asshole.

You never got the nice side, from day one he’s always been your asshole boss, you do half of his work and barely even get a thank you, it’s truly and honestly ridiculous.

You made sure to tell him how much you hated him every chance you got, your contract made it so you had to be employed under Patrick for at least 5 months before you could quit or be fired. So instead of wallowing in your hate, you let it flow freely. Letting it fill every interaction you had with him. Public, private, it didn’t matter, your disrespect was constant.

You didn’t think today was going to be any different, the morning was perfectly ordinary, making copies, sighing Patrick’s papers, getting on his nerves, he was quieter today, less likely to retort your remarks than he usually was. You’d been working for him for four and a half months now, you figured he was getting ready to fire you.

But as the night drew closer and you were getting ready to clock out, when he asked you to stay late, not told, asked.

He must have hit rock bottom, finally.

You stayed, even as the rest of the office went dark. Your desk had its own lamp so you didn’t mind the main lights being shut off. What you did mind was Patrick repeatedly calling your intercom without saying anything, then hanging up. It was annoying, and after the fifth time, you decided to go yell at him about it.

He wasn’t at his desk when you walked in, without a lick of hesitation in your body, you turned around to head out the door, only to find Patrick standing in front of it, pulling white gloves onto his hands, an unreadable expression on his. Before you could open your mouth to question him, his hands were around your throat, squeezing hard.

It was a short lived attempt on your life, as you pulled your foot back and kicked him in the knee as hard as you could. He dragged you down with him as he fell, with you landing on top of him you had the upper hand, punching him square in the face, again and again until your knuckles and his nose and mouth bled. The moment you felt his hands weaken around your throat you jerked back, simultaneously yanking his hands from around your neck, pinning them on either side of his head.

With no real plan on where to go from here, and Patrick having not expected himself to fail, the two of you sat there making intense eye contact for well over a minute.

You didn’t know what to do, Patrick had tried to kill you, failed, and is now pinned helplessly beneath you, looking just as confused as you did.

Oddly enough, Patrick was…experiencing a few new things at this moment. Deflation was one he was familiar with, but complete and utter submission was new for him.

He tried to kill you, but he couldn’t, and you were still alive, holding him down, staring at him with so much pure emotion on your face that he nearly felt overwhelmed by it. He didn’t even try to fight back, instead breaking eye contact to stare at your body above him. It was easy to say he was an admirer of yours, but you are too disrespectful, too mean, and entirely too unflattered by him for him to make a move.

Here you were, though, above him, he was powerless beneath you, anything could happen, he pressed his thighs together, anything could happen.

You were having similar problems. You loved a man covered in blood, particularly his own blood. And that is exactly what Patrick was, looking so pathetic beneath you, staring at you, and your body, wantonly. And you let him.

“What the fuck?” you said, with no real conviction in your voice.

He breathed out hard but said nothing. Just staring down at himself for a long moment, then back up at you. You followed where his gaze had been, your eyes meeting the obvious bulge in his perfectly fit slacks.

You breathed out a short laugh.

“You get off on trying to kill people, Batemen?”

He shook his head at your allegations.

“So it's just me?”

He breathed in hard, avoiding your eyes.

“You like it when I hold you down Bateman, ‘cause that's what it seems like..”

“I'm sorry-” he gasped out, but you interrupted him.

“No, you're not, you're not sorry for trying to kill me, you're horny and want me to fuck you.”

A moment passed

“-please?” his gasp of a word was ever so slightly painful, that, and the blood still free flowing from his nose, made you jump into action. Dragging both hands above his head, then keeping them pinned with just one of yours, using your now free hand to undo your belt, Patrick watched intently as you unfastened the buckle and pulled the belt off in one hard tug.

He watched as you made a makeshift pair of handcuffs, using your teeth as an extra hand while your other was occupied.

“Turn over.” he didn't move.

Letting his hands go for a second you forcefully put the man on his stomach, slamming him on the ground a bit harder than you would anyone else. You regathered his hands and pushed them into the cuffs, pulling to tighten them until the skin around them began to bruise.

Letting his hands rest on his lower back you leaned in close to his ear.

“If you want me to do this you're going to have to listen, understand?”

He nodded rapidly.

“Good.”

You stood up, appreciating the sight of the man lying on the floor between your legs for a moment before picking him up and dragging him over to his desk, you nearly slammed him down over it, he didn't say anything about it, actually, based on the moan he let out and the way he was already spreading his legs and was wiggling his hips in anticipation, you figured he liked it.

You didn't prep him, he'll you didn't even warn him, his pants were off and pooling around his ankles so quickly that he’d barely had time to process it, then, after taking a short moment to appreciate how beautiful and pristine Patrick's ass was, pressing your finger against his hole to see how tight it was, never actually penetrating him though, only stopping when you were satisfied with the answer, very, and his reaction. watching his thighs twitch in response. Then fully and with an utter lack of any hesitation, you pulled your pants and underwear down just below your hip, taking your already hard cock in your hand and giving it a few hard pumps before pressing it against Patrick's hole. He froze up, but his knees still shook, nervous and excited and impatient all at the same time. Then, without saying a word or giving a sign, you pressed in fully, starting at a pace that burned him from the inside out, and you were right, he was very tight, almost hard to push into, but you made it work.

You nearly zoned out his squeals, screams, and moans as you fucked him, unable to move, his insides stretched wider than they'd ever been- he's never done this before and the pain of it was unignorable. He tried to focus on you, your cock, making him feel so good and so bad at the exact same time.

The desk beneath him creaked with every rapid thrust, his stomach pressed uncomfortably against his own nameplate, and with his arms tied, and you being his near ruthlessly fucker for the night he didn't dare ask you.

It wasn't hard to get lost in Patrick, he was beautiful, he felt amazing around your cock, and his voice was more than perfect as he screamed and moaned your name into the empty building.

Then, an idea popped into your mind, the building wasn't completely empty, security was roaming around, checking the doors, the cameras. Looking around the room you spotted it, the blinking red light a clear sign that someone was watching. Grabbing Bateman by the hair you hoisted him up, ignoring his pained yell in favor of showing him the camera.

“Look at that, who's on camera duty tonight, Bateman?”

He blabbered and whined before saying he didn't know. You let go of his hair, and he fell back down to the desk with a bang, gasping out in pain, which soon merged with the pleasured moans that fell from his mouth constantly.

“You think they want a turn? Huh? Maybe they want to fuck you over the desk too, or maybe on the floor. I'd let them use you, I'd let them pass your ass around all night long.”

“No-” he gasped, “just you, just you please-”

He hurried his face in the sheets of paper covering his desk, embarrassed. He's never belonged to anybody, and he surely doesn't belong to you, but the more you fucked him and the fuzzier his mind got, the more he considered, then accepted It.

His back arched hard, his chest still pressed against the desk as he tried to keep his footing, his legs shakey and sore from you kicking him and everything that came after.

“Y/n~im so close, so fucking close, mhh Ah- Ah, ah-”

And he was, his body tensed hard, cum dripping down his cock before shooting out the tip, making a mess of his desk and the floor.

“Fuck, Bateman-” you gasped, just as close as he was a second ago, “you're fucking pathetic.”

You made the splint second session to pull out, much to Patricks, who was actively experiencing sexual overstimulation for the first time and was completely unprepared, relief.

That was until you dragged him off the desk and onto the floor, making him kneel in front of you. Grabbing his jaw and forcing it open, shoving your cock into his unexpected mouth, but that was fine, you used his mouth just as roughly as you'd used his hole.

You didn't last long after that, between Patrick's warm mouth and tongue being used like your personal toy, and his complete and utter submission to you, it was all just too beautiful.

With a final hard thrust into his mouth, your cum shot down his throat, making him choke and gag, and eventually swallow.

Then, staring down at him, you stuffed yourself back into your pants, forcing Patrick to the round, took your belt, and left. Leaving behind a confused, exhausted, and fucking satisfied Patrick Bateman.

[chatsukimi]

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ꜱᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ/ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ʜᴇɪᴀɴ-ᴇʀᴀ) "hell is a pit of fire for a reason" ｅｎｅｍｉｅｓ ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅｒｓ， ｓｕｋｕｎａ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ， Ｈｅｉａｎ－ｅｒａ.

A chill washes over your body, as though a presence has come to visit you. Your eyes snap open, drawn to the Cursed Spirit at the door.

Instantly, you recognise it's a Special Grade. And you sense more crawling down the hallway.

This cannot be happening.

You swing your bedside lamp through the paper window and clamber out, only to be greeted by more of those beasts. Never in your life have you seen this many curses in one place. Why are they here?

BOOM.

An invisible force thrashes you into a tree. You mutter, casting a wave of fire at the Curse behind you.

It's only been a week since you and Sukuna's... falling out. He couldn't have...

A little part of you knows the King of Curses bears no mercy. You've seen him slash a whole village. You've listened to his apathy when the numbers are read in court, the casualties. You, first-hand, had heard him say he could not care less if you went missing.

Maybe he sent these Curses after you, to punish you for disobedience.

As your body drags you further up the hill, away, away, far up from the chasing Curses, your soul is drawn like a magnet towards the tower in the distance. The turret stands tall and imposing over Kyoto, its shadows merciless over the temples. Sukuna's.

Another wall of flames.

The Curses dodge.

At the top of the hill, you hands fumble as you transfer your whispers into a tiny ball of flame. Your head doesn't register what you're doing.

A Curse lunges for your leg. Bites.

You shriek, whacking the Curse to tear it off. It is only getting darker.

Sukuna.

His name plagues your thoughts.

If only... if only Sukuna... Sukuna...

You send out the orb of fire surging into the night.

...

The King of Curses paces around his room in the darkness, until suddenly, he swears.

Something is blinding in the corner of his eye. He whips around and watches an orb glint, bobbing towards him.

Fire.

You.

He crosses the room in fluid steps.

"Special Grades... help. Kuna-"

The words seem to burn him. And he staggers back.

Special Grade Curses. What are they doing? Why are they coming for you?

He races out onto the balcony, tracing where the message originated to find you. He swears again. His fingers are shaking.

When he descends onto the scene, the remnants of smoke and ash linger in his memory.

...

Sukuna watches as the curses encircle you, each one trying to land a fatal strike. He sees you fight and thinks back to the last time he had seen you.

You had been running away from him.

His eyes narrow in rage, as he unleashes his domain expansion. He has to be careful to spare you. The shrine instantly obliterates the cursed spirits.

Upon noticing him, you drop down to your knees, your head bowed to hide the tears welling up.

It's been only a week, yet he cannot anticipate your reaction. Would you shout at him to get away? Had you forgiven him, why you called him to come save you?

"Thank you, Lord Sukuna."

Remember, that's all there is between you. A lord and his subject.

Despite the praise, Sukuna can't help but feel a tinge of guilt for how things had played out between you and him. Something more than hurt pride causes you to hide your pain. Sukuna notices the blood that stains your leg, which you move roughly behind your other leg, out of sight.

"You were about to die, and your first thought was to ask for my help," he mutters.

"I'm sorry." You try to keep yourself together. "It's the middle of the night- I'm sorry for waking you."

But speaking it out loud makes it sound all the more real, the distance between you. And you only bow lower.

He tries to swallow down the ache in his throat. Perhaps he had dismissed you too cruelly. He looks anywhere but you.

He had built you up then tossed you into the wilderness, yet here you are, not blaming him, not even asking for an apology. You only wanted to... to thank him.

"Don't apologise," Sukuna says, quietly, as if it were natural for a lamb to rely on the wolf's protection.

You take a leap of faith and look up, whispering, "if there is nothing else you want from me, I think- I should get this fixed."

You hobble to your feet. He looks down at your leg and his gaze softens. You wonder if he cares at all, stumbling away in a trail of blood.

Then, he scoffs (as if you could hide from him) and follows.

When you reach your living room, you close the shoji screen. But you still sense his familiar power, washing through the cold atmosphere, Sukuna.

He asks, hesitant, "may I enter?"

Why is he even asking? He's the King of Curses! He could knock down this place as easily as breaking an empire, he could destroy eons of progress, bend kingdoms to his will, but even he could feel like a little boy waiting outside your door, for your acceptance or refusal, like he knew he was just like the curse, dangerous yet longing for your touch. His need to pull you so close you were bound by blood and flesh. His heartbeat pounds in his ears at the silence.

You freeze.

You murmur, "... OK."

Sukuna inhales a deep breath and steps into the room. He takes in the condition of the messed up furniture, and you, the state of your attempt to patch up your leg. It hadn't worked in the slightest.

"Do you mind if I provide you with aid?"

You lean back in your chair, huffing out a light breath, attempting to cover your nerves. "I didn't know how to do anything but slice your enemies in half."

Sukuna reveals his teeth, a brutally rare thing. "Don't underestimate my abilities. They far surpass the notion of 'slicing my enemies in half'."

You bite your lip and stays sitting as he nears. Your heartbeat begins to quicken and you're too tired to fight off the instinct.

He has not forgotten your connection, no matter how hard he tried. You and your annoying technique of setting his heart alight. He continues to close the distance between you.

He tilts his head to the side, looking down at you.

"Are you not worried about my proximity?"

"No," you whisper.

You ought to be afraid. He is a thousand times the potency of a Special Grade. He could rip you in half- who says he wouldn't, just to play with you?

"I don't like it..." he mutters, his voice soft and hoarse. You cannot imagine the hatred he feels for you. "I hate it... I despise every second you are near me."

Just as you are about to advise that he leave, Sukuna stares at you -crimson eyes in the moonlight- and grits his teeth.

"... but I hate you more when you are far."

He wants to punish you, to make you endure what he had in the past week, but... he can't.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, his tone laced with resentment.

You close your eyes and feels him kneel to take a closer look at your leg. He slowly traces the gnash with his fingers, and as he does, a cold sensation creeps into your veins. He channels his cursed energy, and you feel the wound beginning to mend itself.

After a few minutes, the process is complete and he stands up.

Reverse-curse technique. You had never seen him use it on anybody. It is the opposite of slash, an abomination of a Technique. Yet something tells you he took his time with you. While you were blind to the vision, you could sense your weakness leaching onto him as he healed you.

"Thank you... Sukuna."

"Do not mention it," he utters, devoid of any emotion. His feet shift, turning towards the exit. Two weights.

You don't know why you do what you do next. You don't know if it's out of gratitude or out of nostalgia. All you know is that the King of Curses is a frightfully cold thing for a person so alive, one shade from freezing, and your palms are warm from the fire. You abruptly capture him in a hug.

He feels your body against his. You stay there, his flame.

He had never felt this close, so interwoven; his body feels more alive than it had ever been.

Sukuna reaches for your waist to push you away, but his arms only drape across. Break free, break free, break free-

The only thing left to lie is his tongue.

"Let go of me."

He had intended it to sound intimidating. It rings more like a plea. He would much rather you fight him, so he would have something real to slice, but this is warm and soft and weak... and it is the most human he has felt in a long time.

"No."

He pushes you against the wall. "I said, let go of me." He dips his head to your level, threatening, "understand? I said," -bumps noses, leans his forehead against yours- "- you will never survive next to me. You will burn out."

He touches his lips forcefully against the corner of your mouth, not willing himself any further. Already the isolation is seeping into his bones from the lack of you.

"Never," you hiss back. "You think you'd be the one to take me out?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You won't kill your flame,' you whisper.

"Fuga," he commands.

You part your lips. Just like that, he closes the distance.

Hell is a pit of fire for a reason.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Eleven || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

no tw’s for this chapter

a/n: next chapter finna be just a little just a tad just the slightest bit unhinged

<— previous chapter

“How much longer until she’s awake?”

“There’s not even a rough estimate I can give you. Shes lost a lot of blood. But nevertheless, you need to think of a payment method.”

“Can you at least let her wake up before you start yapping about getting reimbursed?”

“Considering The Operator would hang me if he found out i’m helping any of you, I think not.”

You shifted uncomfortably, stiff metal underneath you as you began to stir. “The Operator hangs people?” You mumbled. You felt your wrist and ankles being restricted, causing your eyes to fly open. You were secured to a metal operating table, leather straps securing your wrist to your sides and your ankles to stay straight. You began to thrash under the restraints, panicking. “Woah woah woah it’s okay, relax,” Brian ushered. Three people stood around you, two of which you actually recognized.

Toby and Brian stood to your left, Toby’s eyes filled with concern. On your right, was someone you’ve never seen before. A blue mask with eerie black eye sockets stared down at you. A jet black hoodie hid any other features, your mind starting to spin. “Holy fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck,” You rambled, trying to move away from the unknown masked man. Brian grabbed your shoulders, trying to hold you down. “Relax it’s just EJ, he here to help,” He said, attempting to comfort you. The tall man known as EJ seemed unamused, tilting his head to the side.

“If this is how she reacts to me standing here, what was her reaction to Toby’s face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What about his face?” You questioned. You blinked a few times, trying to understand why your vision was so blinded. “J-Jesus Christ dude move the l-lamp,” Toby intervened. He shoved the blinding spotlight out of the way, allowing your vision to settle. Brian and EJ began undoing your restraints, allowing you to sit up. As you did you hissed in pain, grabbing your stomach. “Take it easy. You’ll rip the stitches,” Brian said. He placed his large hand on your upper back, helping you sit up slowly.

“If you rip them i’m not stitching them up again,” EJ grumbled unhappily. He helped Toby free your ankles, your hands rubbing your wrist. “Is there a particular reason you had me tied up?” You inquired. Brian looked at EJ before answering. “There’s a chance that you could’ve had a seizure during your surgery,” He said slowly. You blinked a few times, lifting up your shirt. It was oversized on you and smelled like Toby. You almost asked how your clothes had been changed, but then you remembered Nova. “Yes, when my patients move during my operation it’s quite irritable,” EJ added. Your eyes searched the room, looking past the three that surrounded you.

“Where’s Nova? Is she alright? And Tim?” You asked. You went to jump off of the table, Toby stopping you. “T-They’re fine. They’re outside,” Toby informed you. It then occurred to you that you didn’t recognize your surroundings, at all. You appeared to be in a small cabin, a small fire crackling in the nearby living room. Despite how tiny it seemed, the soft essence made it comfortable. “EJ only let two of us in at a time. And it’s better Nova and Toby don’t get partnered together,” Brian explained. You glanced at EJ, whose soulless gaze seemed to stare directly into your soul. “Those regulations are over, if you’re going to stay here I need to have a meeting with all of you,” EJ said plainly. He sounded so unamused. So unfazed. As he removed his hands from his hoodie you noticed his ash gray skin.

Maybe all kinds of monsters were actually real, not just the one terrorizing you. Toby helped you over to the couch, Brian off to get Tim and Nova. Once you were all seated, EJ stood in front of you. Tim tried his hardest not to look at you, the guilt of almost getting you killed eating him alive. “I have been friends with The Operator for a long time. Longer than some of you have been born,” EJ began. Friends? Was this guy for real? You glanced over at Nova, whose gaze reminded on EJ. Despite her eyes looking elsewhere, she affectionately put her hand on top of yours. You wanted to question her sudden affection, the two of you hardly hugging before you met the boys. “I’m just going to say it like it is. The five of you are not going to make it out of this alive. I estimate maybe two or three of you. But not all of you,” He continued. You were searching for Toby and Brian’s reactions, the two listening intently.

You expected Tim to argue. Toby to interrupt. Brian to mumble an insult. But they all sat perfectly still, listening to the creature before them. Whoever EJ was, he meant business. “Which of the three of you survives depends on how you want to play your cards,” EJ stated flatly. Tim crossed his arms. “Skip over the drama and get to the point please,” He huffed. Despite EJ’s gaze being concealed by a mask, it wasn’t hard to sense that he despised being interrupted. “Nova and Y/n you’re both targets. Given the situation I suspect we won’t have any visitors for a while. He wants to push Nova to the point of suicide and I can only assume for Y/n he wants her as a proxy,” EJ continued. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Toby put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“I can smell your curiosity. Being willing to die in an instant for someone you care about is noble. Too noble. He wants to exercise that nobility to its fullest extent,” He explained. Could he read thoughts too? What did he mean by he could smell you? “So what’s your recommendation for a plan wise guy?” Tim asked. EJ thought for a moment, his body stilling as he thought to himself. “Keep moving until your legs hurt. Train the girl to look after herself. Maybe start to pray,” He suggested sarcastically. Tim frowned as he stood up, glaring at EJ. “Dont push your luck Tim. You’re lucky she’s made it this far anyways,” The demon said plainly. Tim stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. You rose from the couch, abandoning Nova and Toby to shoot daggers at one another. You brushed past EJ, avoiding his eerie gaze.

You reached Tim on the back porch, a cigarette in between his fingers. “Tim…” You started. The brunette refused to look at you, leaning against the wooden railing of the porch. Endless rows of trees surrounded the cabin, the sun beaming through the leafs above. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for this,” You say. Tim flicked some ash off of his cigarette, before returning it to his lips. “My selfishness and greed landed you here. You know it,” He said harshly. A breeze blew past the two of you, your hand involuntarily cradling your wound. You slowly walked over to him, each step taking all of your energy. “Tim, I wanted this,” You argued. Tim noticed how weak you were, his gaze now avoiding looking at you. If he were to, he’d fold and want to touch you.

“You wanted a life stealing demon attached to you? I don’t think so,” Tim debated. You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I wanted you. The three of you. Everything else will work itself out,” You replied. Tim finally turned to face you, carelessly tossing his cigarette aside. “Tim I can’t do this without you. Masky isn’t enough. I need you too,” You say softly. You bring your hands to his face, cupping it. Tim brought his gloved hands to your wrist, admiring your soft features. When was the last time anyone preferred him over Masky? “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Tim whispered. His eyes became glassy, internally fighting the urge to cry. “You can show me,” You suggested. This made Tim chuckle, the brunette delivering a kiss to your forehead. “With your stitches healing? Absolutely not. Nice try princess,” He chuckled.

He leaned his forehead against yours, your gaze meeting his. “Hey Tim?” You whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his large hands settling on your waist.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Tim’s lips met yours, his kiss hungry and soft. He tasted like cigarettes and spearmint, your eyes fluttering shut. Your lips moved against his in harmony, the two of you like magnetics. You couldn’t help but feel more drawn to him, your hands gripping his jacket to bring him closer. Tim pulled away first, his face visibly flushed. He gave you a smile, before gathering both of your hands into his own. “I’m going to do everything to protect you. You’re going to be one of the three that survive,” He promised you. He brought you to his chest, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

In the distance, beyond a few rows of trees, the unknowing couple had an observer. He wasn’t a tall slender being like his boss, no. He was something much worse, much more sinister. Unlike his boss, who deployed mindless drones to continue his reign of terror, he considered himself to be much different. He preferred this. To be alone, slaughtering those he was instructed to. It gave him a justification. It gave him a pleasure so strong it was nearly greater than an orgasm.

He was tasked with finishing what Kate started. Except this time, where the chips fall where they may lay. The Operator was very clear. There were no restrictions now. Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, could easily be eliminated as well if they interfered with his task. Crouched in a tree his eyebrows furrowed as he observed you and Tim. You had three lovers? Possibly a fourth with the hot headed detective? He tilted his head to the side as Tim kissed you again. You were an intriguing target indeed. As he fiddled with his metal claws, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of you had figured out the truth yet.

The Operator didn’t want you as a proxy anymore, he wanted you dead.

\/

“Guys seriously I can get in bed just fine i’m okay,” You protested. Toby and Tim had been carrying you everywhere, determined to baby you to the highest extent. You refused to acknowledge or admit how much your stomach hurt. “You got stabbed through the kidney. It’s a miracle not only that you survived, but that EJ didn’t take the opportunity to eat it,” Tim said. They lowered you on to the bed, the oversized pants you were clothed with sagging. “EJ eats kidneys?” You questioned. You could feel your stomach churn. Tim went silent for a moment, realizing he hadn’t thought twice about what he had said.

“H-he eats much much more than that. But we were ver-r-ry clear in our deal with him,” Toby intervened. You propped yourself up against the headboard, the ancient oil lamp on your nightstand accompanying you with a dim light. “What deal?” You asked. Tim ran his fingers through his hair. “Dont worry about it,” He said, steering the conversation in a different direction. You frowned. Toby made himself quite comfortable beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Where’s Brian?” You asked. You leaned your head against Toby’s chest, trying to ignore how sore your body felt. “Out on patrol with Nova and EJ. There is no telling who The Operator might try to send here now that Kate’s dead,” Tim stated.

The memory of the blade of the axe slamming down into her skull resurfaced in your mind. The cold blooded killer in question was cuddling you like a teddy bear. He was humming to himself, like he hadn’t committed atrocious acts against God. Tim’s eyes flickered between you and Toby, the brunette swallowing. “Well, i’ll leave you guys to it,” Tim said quietly. He turned to leave, causing you to lean forward to try to grab his wrist. You hissed in pain at the sudden movement, your hand flying down to your healing wound. Your whine caused Tim to turn around, looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Please stay. I need all of the support I can get right now,” You admitted weakly. Tim glanced at Toby, who gave him a subtle nod. The bed was a full sized one at most. Tim sighed, sliding off his boots and jacket. “You’re lucky I-” Tim began, stopping dead in his tracks once he realized what words were about to fall off of his lips. Your eyes widened, your heart beginning to race. Tim didn’t deserve to say those words to you. He didn’t think he was worthy. “You’re just lucky, princess,” He finished. He shuffled over to the other side of the bed, sliding in beside you. It was then a knock on the door drew your attention, a tired Brian stumbling inside.

“Please for the love of God let me sleep with you guys instead of being on patrol,” He pleaded. You raised your eyebrows, glancing at Tim. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. Brian sighed, shoving off his hoodie. You couldn’t help but momentarily stare at his built chest. He only wore a thin wife beater underneath, the sight making your heart skip a a beat. “EJ and Nova won’t stop yapping. They won’t stop talking and it’s driving me insane. The point of being on watch is to be subtle. Something neither of them know how to do apparently,” He groaned. Brian plopped down onto the bed, carefully laying his head on your inner thighs.

“A demon and Nova. S-sounds like the p-p-perfect match to me!” Toby snickered. You rolled your eyes, elbowing him. Tim laid his head on your shoulder, your right hand lacing its fingers with his. Your left found its way to Brian’s hair, playing with the locs as his eyes fluttered shut. “Shut up Toby,” Tim grumbled. You knew it wasn’t always going to be this easy. Recovery was going to be a bitch. Your mind began to spin, your eyes wide open as fears circulated around your mind. Tim seemed to notice your tension, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Relax princess we’re right here. No ones going anywhere.”

Your feet seemed to carry themselves, trudging through the forest. Thick vines littered themselves across the ground, causing you to consistently look down to watch your step. When you finally looked up, your eyes widened. A rusty gate fenced in what appeared to be a small graveyard. A cold chill ran down your spine, goosebumps rising across your skin as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. On the gate was a piece of paper, a chaotic and unhinged drawing of The Operator scribbled across the page.

Narrowing your eyes, you grabbed the page angrily. “Stupid drawing,” You muttered. You crumbled up the page, tossing it aside. You shoved the gate open, the fog concealing a clear view of the gravestones. An owl hooted in the distance, the dim moonlight not able to illuminate anything past the relentless fog. You ignored the overgrown moist grass tickling your exposed ankles, continuing forward. Unsettled you hugged your arms, ignoring the eerie feeling of being watched. You did a quick scan of your surroundings, unable to see anything.

Swallowing your fear and unsettlement you walked forward, with each step creating a louder sound of static. You reached the headstones, noticing five of them sat in a perfect row. You managed to see past the fog, your heart beginning to pound as you read the names.

Timothy Wright. Brian Thomas. Nova Parker. Tobias Rogers. Y/n Y/l/n.

You felt your stomach churn, your body boiling with rage. “You can’t have them! I won’t let you!” You yelled into the void. You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palms. “You hear me you bald fuck!? You can’t have them! They mine,” You screamed. Your voice echoed throughout the trees, your words ringing throughout your ears. You gritted your teeth, the sound of static overpowering your words. You fell to your knees, clutching your head. Your lips were apart, a scream surely escaping your throat, yet you couldn’t hear it.

With every ounce of energy you had left you swallowed, forcing yourself to formulate words. “You’ll never find us anyways you bastard!” You screeched. An abnormally large snow white hand grabbed your shoulder, its fingers digging into your skin.

“Oh my foolish child, I already have.”

—> next chapter

[harrietvane]

So, in Busman’s Homeymoon, Lord Peter buys Harriet Vane a mink cloak worth 950 pounds (according to the Dowager Duchess’ journal entry), but he buys Tallboys for “only” 650 pounds.

Even bearing in mind that real estate really did used to be cheaper, do you understand how that is possible? Or how to find out more about relative purchasing power? I used an online calculator website which gave me some figures, but it still seems insane that one could buy an entire Elizabethan farmhouse for 2/3 the price of a garment! Very curious to learn from others who understand this better than I do.

Ah, I see my esteemed colleague @oldshrewsburyian has also had some interesting thoughts on this, so I'll link that here as well before I begin.

So, it's a legitmate question, and there's no catch-all simple answer (in the gotcha sense of 'why didn't i know that bit of cultural Truth'), but there are mitigating factors that take it from a ridiculous price comparison, to merely outlandish. Even taking into account that the coat is quoted in guineas, not pounds, and that PW says the bank valued Talboys at £800 via a mortgage (the paid price was a discount, for paying in cash quickly, which is Plot Relevant), it gets us to roughly the same place, value-wise. Or shall we say PRICE-wise, rather than value, as I'll get into below. There's several factors at play here - they mainly relate to class, and spending power:

-The house is Not That Great, in terms of the kind of property that PW would usually be buying. I mean it is still a large-ish house, big enough to have 2 adults and small children in, but it's not what would be on his radar normally. The only reason they know about it, it that it's near a place where HARRIET grew up as a child. It's not getting any high marks in particular Beauty, Convenience, or Quality - the main reason HV's drawn to it is sentiment, rather than anything else. They both know that they will have to significantly add to it, and alter it, in order for it to be a comfortable home. That would usually be out-of-budget for someone in Harriet's position, who would expect to buy something that meets her needs 'as-is'. Most people looking at buying that house would be Harriets not Peters, so it might be a tough sell.

-The house has no power, and limited plumbing: There's dark references to DRAINS by the dowager duchess, it's entirely possible that this house has no modern plumbing at all - they make the comparison that the huge palace the Wimseys grew up in wasn't plumbed until recently, but then again they do have about 800 servants, whereas Talboys is just a regular house: they will have Bunter alone (at first), with an assist from Mrs Ruddle. There's mention of "a cistern" with some basic valves, but the scullery is mentioned as having a copper, from which hot water is "scooped into a large bath-can" - a copper being, simply, a large metal basin over a fire, in effect. No running hot water, maybe no flushable loos - it's a factor. They also talk specifially about having to electrify Talboys themselves - it's candles and lamps until then. It's fancy camping. By the mid-1930s, a lot of middle-class buyers would expect a little more convenience in both water and wiring, unless they had significant support staff, which Talboys would not be expected to house.

-There's probably no farm! It's a farm house - not a wider land purchase. People like PW's brother the Duke are wealthy primarily because they own land, not because of the big palace they have (which eats money, rather than generates it). The land is what gives them spending power, because other people are paying them rent to live on it, farm on it, or both. PW's own personal 'younger sibling' wealth is also mentioned somewhere to be primarily in real estate (assumed to be in London) - sad to say: he's a landlord, and that's why he's rich. Talboys, on the other hand, as a purchase, would not, in almost any way, be expected to generate revenue through either farming, agriculture, or charging rent. Until they invent house flipping in 80 years, or until the motorway goes through in 40 years, there's not much expectation that Talboys would increase all that much in value.

-Lastly, there's a massive disparity in what The Market Will Bear when we compare a basic residence vs a luxury item (like a mink coat) in the mid-1930s. This is not particular to that time, though. Like any first-year economics student will tell you, the price of something is not it's intrinsic value, it's what someone is WILLING to pay for it. If someone is willing to pay such a price, that's the price it will be. So, we're not comapring Objects, we're comparing Buyers: the the main purchasers of a slightly run-down farmhouse located nowhere special are Harriets, and main purchasers of mink coats are Peters. Talboys is priced for Harriets. The mink coat is priced for Peters.

Compare for example, a contemporary parallel: the Hermes Birkin bag. It's a leather handbag with a starting retail price of about USD 11,400. Just for the bag. Then, you have fancier versions of the fancy bag, eg wikipedia tells me one version sold at auction for USD 380,000 in Hong Kong in 2017. Now, the Harriets of today are not buying a Hermes Birkin handbag, but they are probably trying to buy slightly run-down houses outside urban centers for (one hopes) slightly less than 380k. The Wimseys of the worlds are clearly buying Birkin bags. In that way, it's actually pretty easy to get to a place where Person A might buy a single luxury item for X pounds, and Person B might buy a whole residence for X pounds, and neither feel like they'd done something insane. The key here is in a Wimsey/Vane marriage, they run up against this concept immediately, and repeatedly.

There's a good reason the first epistolary section of the novel is almost entirely taken up with money chat - the ring, the purchase of shirts from Burlington Arcade, the marriage settlement, the gift from the bride to the groom, the mink coat, the bitchy exchange between Helen and Harriet about HV being allowed "six free copies of her book" to distribute. These people come from 2 fundamentally different experiences of the world. They might have gotten engaged using the word 'Magistra', specifically to emphasise their fundamental equality (in the context of learning and the mind, to begin with), but it can't be denied: there's gaps that need to be bridged. They both know parts of their married life will be spent in attempting to do that, hopefully to their mutual satisfaction. Mention of a mink coat for 950 guineas is a nice, neat shorthand for illustrating what's still at play between them here.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Spiderman Kiss

Miguel O’Hara x fem! black cat! reader

- i wanted to write a little fluffy, very flirty upside down romantic rainy spiderman kiss w miguel just because. black cat is in almost every spiderman story and i really wanted to include that for this one cause she’s a badass. just a cute little blurb to get me out out of my writing slump, i was thinking of making a part 2 cause lawd it’s steamy. (yeah i did make a part 2 im just too lazy to link it😔)

warnings: there is some dirty stuff, lil bit filthy but just a lil bit (i’m the worst) streamy sloppy makeout but overall just some romance for y’all.

You were walking on the damp, cold streets of New York, the soft pitter-patter of rain colliding with your umbrella as your sad eyes were glassy, street lamp lit. The neon buzzing and humming a little in the air as the dark clouds rolled over your head, promising heavier rain in the next few hours. Your boots were fitting for the autumn chill, your little black dress and a mid-length trenchcoat made you look like a detective from a shitty 50s novel, but it was fitting. It felt…romantic. As you walked down the street you caught yourself smiling at nothing. Well, not 'nothing' per se.

Spiderman.

Miguel O'Hara.

The self-appointed leader of the infamous Spider Society, aptly remembered as the Spider with the stick up his ass and a temper akin to that of a raging bull being flagged down by a red tarp. He had been on your coattails for months now. The Black Cat. The thief. One wrong-manicured finger or one slip of that vulgar tongue could end in you being an anomaly, which is a bigger problem than just a petty thief. Miguel wasn't from your universe but he had been watching you from afar...just to keep a watchful eye on you, making sure you were behaving yourself-which was never the case. What was jarring though is that he never stepped in on you making your own mess, he just surveilled you. You never seemed to notice and even if you did, you wouldn't care or give him the time of day.

Miguel watched you stroll confidently as the rain hit his broad shoulders, he had never seen you so casual. He cocked his head to the side to survey you from the rooftop you weren't far away from. You didn't fear the elements, the elements fear you. You boasted a certain naturality, your eyes glassy and the bridge of your nose pinched a pretty pink. Huh, cute. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, his eyes narrowed as your hair bounced with each step, lips parting in the process as the cold chilly air started to get to you. See, Black Cat was this force of nature, mysterious, sexed up, a siren seducing her prey into a strangle. Black Cat always gets what she wants, those silk lips ready to bite and those eyes ready to roll back like second nature. Miguel wanted to turn a blind eye to you acting in such a way but he couldn't help but admire your tactics: men would quite literally throw themselves at you, they would beg at your feet, they would lick the ground you'd walk on, they would be desperate for mercy and you didn't even have to touch them to do it. It was something that you just had the ability to do.

But now, here you are. Without the mask. Without the suit. Beaming against the damp night, giving him the opportunity for him to see who you really are when you're not being someone else. Showing the real you when no one else was looking. Miguel had a problem with admitting things. He could never admit when he was wrong, he could never admit the thoughts that buzzed his brain awake at night because no one would understand. You were dangerous, you were a threat. Then why did he want you? Why were you his calling? Why did he catch himself thinking of you?

Miguel was agitated because of it, acting out in the shadows, being more aggressive and hot-headed than usual. He had to do something about it.

Miguel swung to the alley that you were just about to walk past, hanging upside down from the metal fire exit. Thank God for his adhesive feet. Your boots clacked as you walked past the opening. Something blue and red flashed against the corner of your eye and you stopped in your tracks, the breath almost leaving your lungs dry. You couldn't believe it. You scoffed, a smile tugging your lips upwards as your tongue licked at your back teeth.

‘’Late night?’’ Miguel questioned in that low voice of his, you turned your head to face him squinting your eyes slightly. ‘’Couldn't risk getting your hair wet, could you?’’He insulted but there was a playful tone in his voice. Fuck you. You make him playful. He's always fucking serious- the weight of the multiverse rested on his broad shoulders, and here you are not doing anything and he was already letting go. He really needed to check himself.

‘’Take off the mask, couldn't risk getting your hair wet, could you?’’ You walked towards him as he dangled upside down, his massive reached for the flexible fabric of the mask and pulled it off of his insanely structured face.

Lord above, even upside down he looked fucking delicious, his bone structure and dark eyes made an ache form inside of you. A few strands of his raven locks stuck to his forehead due to the rain. He looked dreamy, you couldn't fucking lie about that. You had eyes, after all, you weren't blind.

‘’I think we know each other enough to not be bound by masks.’’ You added completely serious but a smirk played on his lips and his gaze softened just a little but enough for you to notice.

‘’Mask or no mask...’’ Miguel trailed off, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

‘’What are you doing here, Miguel?’’ Your voice was above a whisper as your gaze fell to his lips. This was coming from a case of genuine and undying curiosity- Miguel always has so much to deal with. What made you worth the precious minutes of his day? Well other than being a criminal, today wasn't one of those days though. ‘’You want me to prove to you I can get my hair wet?’’ You closed your umbrella and the droplets of rain started to dampen your hair and slide through the strands.

He couldn't give you an answer, he just cocked his head and looked at you. Fuck, you were beautiful. It was almost scary. You raised your eyebrow at his silence, his face went hard like his thoughts were racing a million miles per hour. And they were, relentlessly. A few burrowed thoughts pierced through the front of his mind.

Miguel let himself be selfish and he let himself wander when it comes to you. He wanted to fuck you, any red-blooded man would. He didn't want you to do all the work though like you usually would expect, he wanted to worship your body and praise you. He wanted to paw at you like an animal. Hold your hips down as he kissed and bit down your thighs, eat at you, devour you, spending hours at a time just tasting you to make you feel good.

Though he did want to take you over his knee for so blatantly misbehaving. Oh, but he did find it impossibly cute though when you were trying to act all smart defying his orders- you'd end up on his knees, ass up face down. Whimpering and on the verge of tears as he had to spank and fuck the disrespect out of you. The dirty thoughts so obviously transferred onto his face, his eyes darkened instinctively as he glared at your lips, he was worried his fangs would pop out unprovoked. The sexual tension between you two was astronomical and difficult to ignore. He didn't want to ignore it anymore, it was affecting him in so many different ways.

‘’You're a million miles away.’’ You bit your lip, eyes going heavy as your perfectly manicured hand tangled in his hair. Fuck, your touch was like magic.

‘’Stop biting your lip. I need to do that instead.’’ Miguel whispered. Your mouth popped open slightly at his words but you definitely knew this was the PG clean version of what was actually going on in his head.

‘’I'm afraid you'll tear them right off.’’ You flirted back, the proximity between you closing with every second.

‘’No, you're not.’’ Miguel's eyebrows furrowed as if he could read your mind. You swallowed the lump in your throat as his response started to shimmy and have an effect all over your body, your eyes widened and you wet your lips with your tongue. A daring invitation.

Miguel closed the gap between you, the rain sliding across his face as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. You expected his kiss to be mean and filled with anger, he was half expecting you to grab his lips and cut them off with a pocket knife for being so callous but no. It was soft. Sensual. Romantic. It felt...meaningful.

You moaned a little and he took it as an opportunity to open your mouth wider to slip his tongue in. It was slow. Messy. Wet. Tongues gliding against tongues, he even nibbled at your lips with his fangs. The strings of saliva kept pulling you back together like an invisible string. It felt so wrong but so good. It was a sloppy kiss turned makeout session, you swear your heart was burrowed inside of your throat as the butterflies in your tummy were starting to turn into hummingbirds. That ache he was making you feel was unmatched. Damn, that's surprising.

‘’Ah.’’ You moaned softly against his lips, finally detaching yourself even though it pained you to do so. Those soft noises shot down all the way to his cock. What was he, a fucking horny teenager? He wanted to hear you moan into his ear. You smiled as you pulled back from his mouth, your tongue darted out and flicked against his lightly protruding fangs, and licked it all the way to his bottom lip. Jesus Christ, you were fucking toying with him. It was like a cat and mouse game with you but in this case, it was cat and spider. You lifted your head to stare into the dark abyss of his eyes and to your surprise they were gleaming. You ruffled your hand into his damp hair messing it up for him as to further prove your point.

‘’I usually hate spiders. Cats eat spiders.’’ You mused.

‘’Do you now?’’ He teased back. ‘’It seems like you don't hate them enough.’’

‘’I like that you've been watching me, Miguel.’’ You exposed that you knew what he's been doing, the man is 6'9 he's not good at hiding things.

‘’Needed to make sure that you've been behaving.’’ He said huskily and it made your knees buckle a little.

"You already know that I haven't been."

"I should punish you.’’ He scolded coldly, he was being deadly serious and you fucking loved it

‘’Swing by my universe whenever bug boy.’’ You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he was salivating yet again. And bug boy? That's just unforgivable. ‘’Call me.’’ You smirked playfully, giving into your teenage fantasy of a boy falling head over heels for you, wrapping the telephone cord around your finger and twisting it whilst whispering sweet nothings across the line. But you were both far too dangerous to have anything normal.

‘’Maybe I will.’’ He replied in a rich low tone that made your insides melt, he said it like it was a promise.

You shuffled his hair one last time before your eyes fell on his, eyebrows wilting as an expression of sad tenderness. ‘’Goodbye, Miguel.’’ You breathed as if it was the final moment you’d share with him, finally taking the necessary steps back to successfully be back on the main pavement. You opened up your umbrella and then you were gone, Miguel sighed.

‘’Parting is such sweet sorrow.'’

[fate-magical-girls]

The Varieties of Chinese Mermaids

In the modern day, most people will think of the pearl-crying Jiaoren. However JIAOREN IS NOT THE PERFECT EQUIVALENT OF THE MERMAID in pre-modern folklore.

Chinese mermaids come in multiple types. Most of them can be found in the Chronicle of the Mountains and the Seas (Shan Hai Jing/山海經). Others can be found in the In Search of the Supernatural (Sou Shen Ji/搜神記) or Extensive Records of the Taiping Era (Taiping Guangji/太平廣記).

YUFU/MER-WIFE (魚婦): Zhuanxu was a god-emperor in legendary times, whose accomplishments included sending two of his sons to complete the separation of Heaven and Earth. When he died, fish ate his corpse, becoming half fish and half human women. They live in the Great Wilderness toward the west of China. They combine traits of humans, fish, and snakes. The Classic of Mountains and the Seas states: "There is a fish half-withered, it is Zhuanxu that died and then revived; when the winds blow northward, the sky whips up great geysers, snakes transform into fish, and those are mer-wives."

LINGYU/HILL FISH (陵魚，鯪魚): The Lingyu lived in the northern regions of China, either in the sea or mountain streams. They have human faces and limbs, but fish bodies. They are identified with Chinese giant salamanders or mud carp in the modern day. The Classic of Mountains and Seas states: "The nation of Guye is in the sea, among the Guye mountain range, surrounded by peaks to the southwest. There are great crabs are in the sea. There are Lingyu, which have human heads, feet, and hands, in the sea."

CHIRU/RED RU FISH (赤鱬): The Chiru lived in mountain in the south of China. It was red all over, had a human face, and its call sounded like that of a shelduck or mandarin duck. Eating its flesh protected people from contracting scabies. They are identified with sockeye salmon in the modern day. The Classic of Mountains and Seas states: "Three hundred miles more to the east, there is the mountain called Blue Hill...The Ying Waters emerge from here. Within are many Chiru; their forms are like fish, yet they have human faces, and their cries are like that of a shelduck. Those that eat its flesh will never have scabies."

DIREN/DI PEOPLE (氐人): The nation of the Di People was in the South of China. They were human from the waist up and fish from the waist down. They might have been a mythologization of the real Di People, who lived in western China, spread out from Shaanxi to Gansu. They joined the confederation of nomadic peoples who conquered Northern China during the Sixteen Kingdoms period. The Baima people of Gansu believe themselves to be descended from the ancient Di. The Classic of the Mountains and Seas states: "The nation of the Di People is west of the Jianmu Tree. Its inhabitants have human faces but fish bodies, with no feet."

HAI RENYU/SEA MERMAID (海人魚): The Sea Mermaid lives in the East China Sea. They tend to be around five to six shaku tall. (4'7"-5'6" or 1.4-1.68 meters.) Their upper bodies were that of humans, and they were all very beautiful. Their skins were white as jade, and their tails had no scales, but were covered in fine rainbow-colored hairs. Their hair grew long and wild like horse manes. Their private organs were much like that of humans, and they often sought humans or were sought by humans as mates in coastal communities, where they would live in a pool on their spouse's property. Sometimes they had red feelers or fins on their elbows and backs. Their bodies could not be penetrated by blades, but their fats could be harvested after death to form ever-burning candles. Han Dynasty texts state: "Merfolk have a human-like form longer than one shaku. They are not fit for consumption. Their skins are rougher than those of sharks, and cannot be penetrated by saws. They have little holes on their neck that they breathe through...Their fat is used to light lamps in royal tombs because the fire will never extinguish." Extensive Records of the Taiping Era states: "Sea Mermaids are found in the Eastern Sea. The largest ones are five or six shaku long. They are shaped like humans, with the brows and eyes, mouths and noses, hands and fingers, and heads of beautiful women, lacking in no feature. Their flesh is white as jade, and they have no scales, but thin, soft, and sleek hairs of five colors about one or two inches in length. Their private organs were no different from those of ordinary men and women. Widows and widowers from coastal communities often acquire them and raise them in pools. They mate the same way humans do, and never harm humans."

LOTING YUREN/LOTING FISH-MEN (盧亭魚人): Loting Fish-Men were found in the south of China, mostly around the Guangdong, Macau, and Hong Kong regions. They had humanoid limbs and humanoid faces with yellow hair and yellow eyes, but scaly bodies with fish tails. They lived mostly in the water, feeding on fish, but also built houses from mussel shells, and their favorite snack was chicken blood. They were a mythologization of the Tanka People, a southern Chinese pariah class who were once forced to live on their boats, as well as the Semang People. Ming Dynasty texts state: "The Jin Dynasty rebel Lu Ting was defeated and fled into the Guangdong region, where he lived a fugitive life on the water. After some generations, his descendants were unable to procure food or clothes, so they went about bare bodied and were called Loting. They would often sail out on the sea fishing for food, and they could all lie underwater for three or four days without dying, for they had already become fish." Qing Dynasty texts state: "Among the merfolk are the Loting Fish-Men, who are very numerous on Dayushan Island and the Wanshan Islands. Their adults are like humans, with male and female. Their hairs are dusky yellow and short and their eyes are also yellow, while their faces are black. Their tails are around an inch long. When they encounter humans they dive fearfully into the water. Often they would float along the waves, which would amaze people, who would they chase them. When a man who acquired one their females did the dirty with her, the fish-woman could not speak, only giggle. After a long while, she learned to wear clothes and eat grains. She was brought to Dayushan, where she went back to the water. These are the merfolk who do not harm men."

JIAOREN/SAMEBITO/SHARK-MEN (鮫人): Jiaoren are found in the South Seas. THEY ARE MER-SHARKS. THEY HAVE INKY BLACK BODIES, WILD HAIR, GLOWING GREEN EYES, AND SHARP TEETH. They are usually employed by dragon gods as weavers, capable of working tirelessly and spinning special waterproof silks. Their tears became pearls. They were first equated to Western mermaids by modern fantasy writers romanticizing the fact that they cried pearls.

WA WA YU/KIDDO FISH (娃娃魚): The Chinese Giant Salamander was often called a "mer-person" in the Ming and Qing dynasties, and described having a cry that resembled a baby's wail. To this day the colloquial name is still "Kiddo Fish".

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!traveller!reader, male masturbation, a little bit of dub con ( him ) at first, handjob, semi public, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day five [ xiao + handjob ]

the night air in Liyue was always so enticing.

a gentle breeze, the smell of incense lingering in the air, and the full moon hanging low. you’d stood out on the balcony of Wangshu Inn many nights, just like tonight, and swore that if you reached up, you could caress it with your fingertips. everything about Liyue nights seemed tangible. the smell of almond tofu wafting up the steps from the kitchen below, tickling your nose with a delightfully sweet aroma so thick you could already taste the dish melting on your tongue. the lamps that flickered along the coastline, like stars low enough to be stolen. all so real. all here.

you lean against the balcony, allowing your thoughts to melt for a moment of empty bliss. a miniature vacation amongst the chaos. for the night, at least, you didn’t have to think about the Fatui. or demons. or bandits. those things would wait until morning, and flood your brain all over again.

a faint sigh, barely audible, carried on the Liyue wind brings you out of your thoughtless daydream, and you blink a few times, registering the sound. still and quiet, you struggle to listen, and amongst the bustling Liyue nightlife below, you catch it again.

this time, it was a moan. one that set your cheeks on fire.

it was close.

and you knew that voice.

you’d never heard it quite so needy before, though, strangled and breathy. and so, uncertainly, you follow the sounds as he makes them with the stealth of a stalking feline, pressing yourself against the wall of the Inn as you slink around the balcony.

when you finally reach the source, you peek out from around your hiding place as another long, low moan bubbles in his throat. you had to cover your mouth to keep from making a sound, your eyes wide and glued on the display.

his back was to you, but there was no denying what his hands did at his front, one arm moving in a slow, full pumping motion, while the other gripped the bunched-up hem of his shirt and held it up towards his chest. your eyes couldn’t help themselves, they flicker downwards. his pants, though not entirely lowered, were loosened to the point of the waistband sagging, and your stomach does a cartwheel as you realize what you’re watching. and just how intimate it was.

Xiao was pleasuring himself.

the stoic, unapproachable adeptus that you’d only seemed to annoy, was stroking himself mere feet away from you.

another, soft moan, and you feel your knees turn inwards, clamping your thighs together. you couldn’t deny it was an erotic display. and you were getting wet witnessing it.

“Do you really think you’re hidden?” his voice is a bit steadier now, head tilted slightly, and your heart pounds in its chamber as you realize he knew you were there. “That I wouldn’t know you’re there?”

your mind races for an excuse. “Well, I wasn’t trying to—“

“Clearly.” he cuts you off, and you bite down harshly on your lower lip. his movements had stopped, but you realized he hadn’t tucked himself away, or turned to look at you.

you wished he wouldn’t.

with a soft, little plea, you voice that desire. “Please don’t stop…”

Xiao seems taken aback by that, albeit only temporarily. and you take a cautious step towards him. “I don’t care for audiences.”

you chew on your lip harder, taking another step. “I don’t have to be just an audience, Xiao. I could…” you take another, then another, until you’re close enough to his back to reach out and touch him. you do so, gently tracing the outline of his shoulders, and realize how tense they are. regardless of his stone cold act, his shoulders were pulled taut. “I could help you.” your svelte caresses careen around his shoulders, dipping over the expanse of his chest, and you nuzzle close to his ear, letting a breathy moan escape your parted lips. “If you’ll let me—“ your hands delve downwards, impatient and eager to wrap around the cock that you haven’t yet seen, but in a swift motion, his fist wraps around your wrist, squeezing tight enough to halt your movements. “Xiao…”

“I usually tend to myself.” he mutters, and you could practically hear the reluctance in his low tone. “Alone.”

nodding slowly, you allow your wrist to go limp in his grasp, needy fingers dangling mid hair, and you let out a soft sigh. “You don’t wonder what it might be like to let someone else tend to you for once?” your lips form each syllable against the shell of his ear, his tendrils tickling your face as you tease and entice him. pressing a sneaky kiss against his earlobe, you wonder if the heat you’re feeling is from his face or yours.

“Someone else. You?”

you nod, slow, but you know he can feel the rustling against his shoulder, and you hum, desperate to convince him. your cunt was already wet and aching from the show, and now you were eager to continue where he’d left off. if only he’d let you. “My hands are soft, Xiao…” you coo into his ear.

and, to your surprise, he moans. it’s a quiet, muffled moan. you knew he must’ve pursed his lips when he did so, but the sound still struck your core deep. “Palms up,” he whispers, and you obey, allowing your hands to be taken with his and guided to his manhood. you can’t help the swoon that leaks out of your mouth when he wraps them both around his cock. it was already hard and slick with spit, and he curled each of your dainty fingers around the girth, one by one; as if instructing you to play an instrument and teaching you the keys. “Like this…” his voice was not so steady now, as he leads your hands up and down, mentoring you in the rhythm that could bring him the most pleasure. it wasn’t fast, nor did his hips buck to meet your movements. Xiao moans, snorting through his nose, and his hands leave yours when he realizes you’ve mastered pumping him the way he likes it. “Yes.”

you don’t think he meant to grunt the affirmation, because it sounded more like a subconscious plea for more, but you didn’t mind. keeping your hands tight around his cock, you stroke in opposite directions, your fists meeting in the middle, before separating again. one glides down to kiss his base, swatting against sparse, coarse pubic hair, whilst the other flees upwards to polish the swollen tip.

“You feel nice,” you try to breathe, but the action feels impossible. he’s left you in a state of breathlessness, just by allowing you to touch him. “This is what it’s like to pleasure a god…” you feel a bit silly when you hear him grunt, and you realize that you’d moaned the sentiment out loud, and you drop your head to rest your forehead against his shoulder, hiding from his scrutiny if he were to offer any. “That… was supposed to stay in my head.” you admit, sheepishly.

but Xiao doesn’t scold you. “You are foolishly honest.” he murmurs, working his jaw. his hand, now free to do as they please, reach and cradle the back of your head, thumb rubbing against your crown as he urges you closer. “It’s so bothersome.” as you press your body into his back, soaking in his warmth, your hands work him over, and you raise your eyes, about to speak, only to find his head turned towards you. as if glancing over his shoulder, his parted lips ready to embrace yours. “Just kiss me.” he demands, in a husky whisper, and his tiers tease yours by grazing them gently, as he adds, “Before you embarrass yourself further.”

[bi-panicatthedisco]

Random incorrect twst first-year quotes I saved

Deuce: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!

Ace: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!

Yuu: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!

Jack: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!

Sebek : Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!

Epel: Throw a brick at someone to kill them!

Yuu: Time for plan G.

Jack: Don’t you mean plan B?

Yuu: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Epel: What about plan D?

Yuu: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Sebek : What about plan E?

Yuu: I’m hoping not to use it. Deuce dies in plan E.

Ace: I like plan E.

*when the Squad drops food*

Deuce: Eh, oh well.

Epel: FIVE-SECOND RULE!

Ace: FUCK!

Jack: *just gets more food*

Yuu: *drops to their knees and mourns the food*

Sebek : *eats the food off the ground*

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Sebek, Jack, and Deuce: *spinning a little and talking*

Epel, Ace, and Yuu: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Epel: The floor is lava!

Jack: *helps Sebek onto the counter*

Ace: *kicks Deuce off the sofa*

Yuu: *lays on the floor*

Epel: ...Are you okay?

Yuu: No.

Jack: Man, they look like a real handful. How do you deal with them?

Yuu, watching Sebek screaming, Ace trying to set a sleeping Deuce on fire, and Epel choking on air: I don't know either.

Deuce: We need to distract these guys

Ortho: Leave it to me

Ortho: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Yuu, Ace, and Epel: *Immediately begin arguing*

Jack, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Ortho: I can help you with it!

Deuce: Yeah, sure.

Yuu: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Ace: lol nope.

Epel: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Jack: *Read 5:55pm*

Yuu: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Ortho: >:O language

Deuce: Yeah watch your fucking language

Epel: OKAY WHO TAUGHT DEUCE THE FUCK WORD?

Ace: 'The fuck word'.

Sebek: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Deuce: Oh my god they censored it

Epel: Say fuck, Sebek.

Ace: Do it, Sebek. Say fuck.

Yuu: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world!

Jack: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment.

Deuce: More or less, I guess...

Ortho: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that!

Epel: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept.

Ace: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

Yuu, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Ace: Hey.

Deuce: Hi.

Jack: Hello.

Ortho: Hey!

Yuu: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Epel: We were out of Doritos.

Ortho: Hewwo.

Ace: Hihiiiiii!

Sebek: Greetings, Humans.

Jack: Three kinds of people.

Deuce: I want pudding.

Jack: Four kinds of people.

Yuu: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Jack: Five kinds of people.

Yuu: Would you slap Deuce-

Ace: Yes.

Yuu: I didn't even finish!

Ace: Sorry, continue.

Yuu: Would you slap Deuce for 10 dollars?

Ace: I would do it for free.

Deuce: Rude...

Epel: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up!

Epel: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

Grim: Tomorrow’s the Cooking Contest. Yuu always tells me one thing every year. They say, “You might win if you’d stop eating your entry!” But how would I know whether it’s an award-winning dish without tasting it first? This may be a problem humanity will have to grapple with for eternity…

Ace: It’s funny how well you and Sebek get along. Didn’t they hate you at first?

Yuu: Sebek hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

Deuce: Where's Epel?

Yuu: Don't worry, I'll find them.

Yuu, shouting: Jack sucks!

Epel , distantly: Jack is the best person ever! Fuck you!

Yuu: Found them.

Yuu: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Grim : Mine just says "Grim no."

Yuu: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

Yuu: I have an idea.

Jack: A good idea?

Yuu: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Ortho: You believe me?

Yuu: Ortho, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

Yuu: I give up. I am so tired.

Ace: Get the emergency supply!

Ortho: *carries Grim and places them in front of Yuu*

Grim: *smiles*

Yuu: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

[nerdyloverparadise]

Getting to know Chuuya (pt2):

Chuuya technically had pulled you into the Port Mafia so he was the one who had to hand down an item to you. The day Mori told him to give you something of his was the most irritating day ever for him but… he ended up giving you his choker.

“There, keep it… just keep it.”

“Uh… a collar?”

“NO NOT A COLLAR… just put the d*mn thing on.”

The following day, he acquired an identical replacement for himself, inadvertently matching with you.

"I definitely wear it better," he remarked, a hint of amusement softening his frustration.

The bickering almost NEVER ended and there was always something being quarreled about.

“YOU’VE JUST ABOUT PUSHED ME TO MY LIMIT, CHUUYA!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over as you grabbed him by the throat.

In retaliation, Chuuya seized you by the collar and forcefully pushed you against the wall. “YOU’RE ASKING FOR TROUBLE, YOU LITTLE BRAT!”

There were many times when Chuuya and you would yell in one another's faces, grab each other by the throat, and occasionally crush one another up against the wall. Your heated exchanges often escalated to shouting matches, with both parties grabbing each other in fits of anger. It was a volatile mix of fury, frustration, and a primal need to vent. But in this particular moment, the size of both of your pupils and the lift of your brows had grown rapidly… along with a few other things… like the tension in the room. As his gaze swept across yours, it seemed like he was committing every part of your face to memory and couldn’t stop… until Mori knocked on the door to assess how you were settling in. After that day, You and Chuuya had undeniable chemistry but it was never really touched on or acknowledged.

Over time you started to get used to Chuuya and his behavior. Bickering was always a common trend between you both and it seemed like hate at first glance but most times the real issue was that you both weren't used to expressing any type of emotion besides anger, even when comforting. Despite the constant friction, there were moments when you noticed a softer side to Chuuya. For example…

- Chuuya made sure to protect you under all circumstances no matter how badly you both bickered. Like the time a bullet almost pierced through your arm in a mission. It didn’t take corruption for Chuuya to send the bullet flying back through the assailant's skull…. and leg… and torso. We get it, Chuuya.

But acknowledging those moments felt like admitting vulnerability, so instead, you both continued to trade barbs and sarcasm, hiding the budding warmth beneath the surface. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the tension between you only seemed to grow, sparking a fire that neither of you dared to extinguish.

After that mission was over, he wanted to go out to the bar but didn't really want to go alone.

“Man, I could really use some booze right about now.”

“I'm surprised your body can even tolerate booze, half-pint.”

“Half-pint of alcohol does sound grea- wait a minute. YOU CALLIN ME SHORT?”

“Of course not.”

He dragged you along to a bar with him despite you not wanting to go and ordered a bunch of drinks. You sit next to him, swirling the drink around in the cup and tapping your foot. Chuuya drank so much you had to be the one to carry him back to the Port Mafia and the one to deal with his violent hangover the next day. When you both arrive back at the HQ, you lie him down in his bedroom and take off his hat, placing it onto the top part of the lamp and letting it hang like he always does.

“Chuus… *you laugh softly and shake your head.* you're reckless as hell.”

Chuuya starts to snore loudly, almost tauntingly as he rolls over in bed.

“Asshole.”

For the most part this became a weekly thing. You carried Chuuya back to the PM every Saturday when he had drank entirely too much and you both bickered constantly, even worse when drunk. Even then, Chuuya's invitations to the bar carried with it a weighty undercurrent of yearning, his desire for companionship masked by casual banter. What’d you expect? He’s emotionally constipated and let’s be real… you probably are too...

To be continued...

[kiwisa]

name(s) of love ✩ cl16

Charles Leclerc x Fem! Girlfriend! Reader

fluff • smut(ish) • 1,500 words

IN WHICH... love takes on many forms and many names.

✩ “MON AMOUR…” in everyday life.

“Can you pass me the salt, mon amour?”

With one hand, the other stirring the sauce, Charles vaguely pointed to the location of the saltshaker, which you hastened to hand over. He murmured a distracted “thank you” and seasoned the meat before turning down the heat and covering the pan with the lid next to it.

You watched in silence as his shoulders tensed with every movement, the muscles of his arms drawn deliciously against his shirt. A strand of hair bounced on his forehead at each movement, wet from the steam of the pots on the hob. A scrunchie, one of yours, was pulling back his hair ⏤ which had been falling in front of his eyes ever since he began his task ⏤ into a ridiculously little ponytail.

After giving the sauce a final stir to let it reduce, Charles wiped his hands on his white “kiss the cook” apron ⏤ a gift you were very proud of.

“I love to watch you cook,” you said as you approached.

You let your hands graze his arms up to his shoulders and placed them on either side of his neck. It was impossible to resist the urge to kiss it. You pecked at every bit of skin, stopping at a few tender spots that your nights with him had revealed.

“Yeah?” he pulled you to him, careful not to bring you too close to the fire, and leaned his head back to give you more room. His hands gently tickled your ribs before moving down and squeezing your ass. He left them there, chastely, happy to receive so much attention.

“Hmm,” you nodded, far too busy loving on him to give him a real answer.

“I think you're far more interested in the food than me, mon amour.”

Oh, you'd devour him over any meal in this world.

✩ “MON COEUR…” when he’s tired.

“Mon coeur, come to bed,” Charles whined.

“One more chapter, honey, and I'm yours.”

Your eyes were beginning to burn, assaulted by the artificial light of the table lamp next to the couch. The dark night had long since darkened the sky. Despite the pain, the letters that ⏤ little by little ⏤ were becoming blurry, the sentences that only made sense if you read them twice, you couldn't bring yourself to close the book. You had started it three days ago, and as the last chapters were drawing nearer and nearer, you couldn't go to sleep without knowing the end of the story, without knowing if the protagonist would survive.

You knew it had been a trying day for Charles, as media day usually was: one interview after another, this time for magazines, and the many videos he had to shoot for various YouTube channels had dealt the final blow to his energy.

“You said that six chapters ago.”

A grimace pulled at your face. You immediately felt terrible, even more so when you saw him, at the entrance to the corridor, wrapped up in the quilt, his eyes reddened by fatigue, his hair in all directions. A painting as touching as heart-breaking. They were overworking him.

“Mon coeur, please,” he tried again.

His shiny green eyes were enough to make you give in. Morning and evening, he rejuvenated before your eyes when, around him, the arms of Morpheus imprisoned him. How could you resist his face?

Gently, you folded the corner of your page before placing the book on the coffee table. You couldn't take three steps before Charles wrapped you in the duvet, holding you tightly against him. Your eyes were blocked by the quilt and by his chest, so you did not see the dark look he gave your book, as if it was responsible for all his misfortunes.

He guided you to the bedroom like this, never letting go of you except to close the door. You could not hide your smile at his cuteness, which he took as mocking.

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I didn't say anything.”

He pushed you down on the bed, watching your body bounce on the mattress before dropping onto you. The weight of his body cut off your breathing for a moment but you said nothing, understanding what Charles was craving.

Contact.

His head nestled against your breasts; his eyelids closed at once. Your skin against his, he could forget the worries of the day. He could suddenly breathe with your heartbeat giving the tempo for his to follow. Your fingers slipping into his hair, smoothing them, anything to soothe him.

There was no sound to disturb this tender moment, except your breathing and perhaps ⏤ sometimes ⏤ the sound of a kiss dropped on his forehead.

You continued until his weight became heavier, a sign that he had fallen asleep.

“Goodnight, honey,” you murmured.

Very quietly, so as not to wake him, you picked up your phone. Immediately lowering the brightness, you clicked on the orange icon on your iPhone and, remembering the little number at the top right of the page, resumed reading your book, having bought it digitally.

As pretty as this boy was, you were not going to sleep without knowing the end.

✩ “MON ANGE…” when he’s sad.

Each sniffle broke your heart a little more, as your neck collected tear after tear. You tightened your grip on Charles's trembling body, trying to protect him from this world and its horrors. Seeing this joyous man who shared your life being tarnished by others drove you into a deep rage, one you kept secret.

It could wait.

The love of your life could not.

“It's going to be okay.”

You weren't sure. How could you control people's actions, their disrespect, and the power that anonymity gave them? Words hurt, even written on a phone screen.

Charles had walked in your Monte-Carlo flat in tears, after what should have been a fun night out with his mates. It had been hard to make out his words, cut off by heart-breaking sobs, but you got the gist of it: by showing a funny tweet about him, one of his friends had unintentionally confronted Charles with the hatred of bitter people who couldn't bear to see others succeed. His appearance, his behaviour, his driving. Everything had been a subject to criticize, but it was the third point that had been the coup de grâce; especially after the disappointing new car testing.

All it had taken was one comment to shatter into a million pieces what you had tried to keep intact.

“Mon ange, I–”

“It's okay,” you repeated, trying to convince him, and maybe you as well. “You don't have to talk if you don't want to.”

So, he didn't. You stood there, hugging in the middle of the living room, a few steps from the door that hid him from all his worries.

“I love you, mon ange,” he finally whispered.

“I love you too, my talented, beautiful, kind boyfriend.”

He managed to give you a shaky smile, which, if it bore the mark of deep sadness, reassured you somewhat. You stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently, as if to affirm your compliments, to anchor them on his mouth so that he, in turn, could believe them, say them.

It would take a little time to piece him back together, but you were nothing if not stubborn.

✩ “BÉBÉ…” when he’s in the mood.

“Bébé?”

Silence.

Charles straightened up a little more, his back against the headboard. He didn't take his eyes off your body, which was facing the opposite way. The moon had long since cast its bluish halo over the bed and was now illuminating your naked curves, which the white sheet did nothing to hide.

“Bébé?”

His fingertips brushed your knee, moved gently up your thighs – his pinkie sliding inwards more than necessary – and up your lower abdomen to your chest. Charles watched with delight as your body shivered at his touch, his heart beating furiously in his chest, temple, and crotch.

“Bébé?”

This time he shook you without delicacy, abruptly waking you from your deep sleep. You didn't like this one bit. Roughly pulling the quilt up to your neck, you buried yourself in it, ignoring the complaints of the man beside you. The masterpiece that was your body, now stolen from his dilated eyes.

Unacceptable, he thought.

His hand came to rest on your waist, squeezing it.

“What?” you asked aggressively, ready to sleep after an already eventful night. This man had far too much stamina for you. The still regular shaking of your legs was proof of that.

“I'm horny,” he whined.

“You're a fucking animal, Leclerc. That’s what you are.”

Your words may have had bite, but your thighs were already spreading for him to fit between them. Damn him and his stupidly beautiful, flushed face, and pouted lips.

Fucker.

[scarletwritesshit]

⭐Boothill x F!Reader ⭐ Silver Stars

You kept looking up at Penacony’s sky. You knew that none of this was real, and that your physical body was safely resting in the Reveire back in reality, but that didn’t make the experience feel any more fake.

Boothill noticed you frequently looking up at the sky. On occasion, he would have to drag you out of the way of others or nudge you away from accidentally walking directly into a lamp post. He didn’t mind it, but his kindness did not come without a few "muddle fudgers.” You couldn’t help it. Penacony’s sky was simply too marvelous for you to ignore.

"Lass, ya better watch where you’re goin’, otherwise, one of these days you’re gonna trip and fall," Boothill said. "Don’t want ya bustin’ up your pretty face."

"Oh, sorry," you said, "It’s quite difficult to simply glaze by such a view.”

"Well if ya wanted to go stargazin’, why didn’t ya tell me so? Ain’t that a lot easier than wanderin’ around like some dumb dog?"

"I guess, but where are we going to find anywhere in Penacony to stargaze in solitude?"

Boothill thought for a moment. "I mean there’s them back-alley routes that eventually lead up to some pretty quiet and wide open spots. Ain’t gonna find no one up there seein’ how everyone else is too busy indulging in their own little fantasy lands."

"Do you even know where any of these spots are?"

"That’s what a GPS is for, hun. Not like any of them are very difficult to find in the first place, just gotta do a little walkin’."

Boothill grabbed you by the arm and started dragging you down a back-alley path. He had quite the tight grip, perhaps out of negligence for how strong his artificial body was. Your feet were practically smoking from the friction as he dragged you along. Eventually, you gave up trying to keep up with his pace and allowed yourself to skid along, until he stopped at a rather high spot overlooking the dreamy metropolis of the Golden Hour.

"Told ya I knew what I was doin’," he said, with a wink.

"Next time, could you be just a little bit gentler? My shoes were practically sparking a fire back there," you said.

"Shoulda told me something, lass. Could’ve picked ya up and thrown ya over my shoulder."

"Is it too late to take you up on that offer?"

"For now, yeah, ‘cuz we’re already here. But it ain’t off the table for later. For now, take a seat, lass."

Boothill sat down on the concrete, and invited you to sit next to him by patting the ground. You sat down next to him and looked up, admiring the grand view of Penacony’s stars blanketing above your head and beyond what can be seen past the guardrail. You looked all around, even leaning backwards to take in as much as the starry sky as you possibly could. Boothill wrapped his arm around your lower back to steady you so that you did not collapse onto the concrete.

"Wouldn’t it be easier if ya laid your bum down on my lap?" Boothill suggested. "If ya can deal with my cold metal thighs, it’ll be a heck of a lot easier to look at them stars than twisting ya spine all over the dang place."

Accepting Boothill’s offer, you laid down on his thighs, positioning your head so that you could rest between them comfortably. They were rather firm and solid, but the fabric of his pants cushioned them a little. Boothill was right about the stars being far more easily viewed from laying down. The only thing that really got in your way were the tuffs of his hair visible out of the corner of your eyes, but it was a minor inconvenience that you truthfully didn’t mind. He reached down to gently stroke the side of your face, but stopped himself.

"Sorry if I ain’t that comfortable," he said.

"No, its fine. I quite like it here," you said, grabbing his hand and gently placing it onto your cheek.

The metal of Boothill's fingers were quite cold from Penacony’s everlasting nighttime air. Curiously enough, it had the strangest sense of human warmth to it.

"You don’t gotta to pretend for me, partner. I know it ain’t the same as the feeling of another human."

"But this feeling is from you. Not just any person, flesh and blood or otherwise. That’s more important.”

"This hunk 'o crud ain’t anything like the me I once was. It’s turned me into a sad excuse of a person if I’ve ever seen one."

"I don’t mind. Really"

"Well I do," he said, gently running his finger alongside your cheek, "all I got to offer as a sad excuse of comfort is a heaping pile of metal."

"I get the feeling you don’t particularly enjoy being a cyborg."

"What gave that away? It’s gotta be up there with one of the worst things that had ever happened to me. Shame that not even the sweetest dreams can grant me a sense of normalcy."

"...Boothill, if a shooting star could grant a wish, would you wish for your human body back?"

Boothill went silent for a moment, and sighed. "No. I couldn’t There’s somethin’ far more valuable than my own humanity that I wish I could bring back."

"...You’re talking about her, aren’t you?"

"Right on target, partner. Even if I could bring ‘er back, I ain’t got a father's body to provide any warmth with. It’s cruel to do a little lady so dirty like that."

"She would think you’re the coolest, honestly."

"Maybe. Still can’t help but feel like I ain’t really there for ‘er with this lump of snot for a body. Probably a father’s guilt speakin’."

Boothill speaking more softly about himself for once put your body at ease, in addition to being rested comfortably in his lap. If it were possible in this dream, you felt as if you could drift off to sleep.

"Cyborg or not, you’ll always be Boothill to me," you said.

"Thank ya kindly, lass. Your words mean a whole lot to a little ol’ bucket of scrap like me. And I do apologize for dullin’ ya mood. Ya did say you wanted to stargaze, not listen to a rusty lad yap for Aeons know how long."

"No worries. I find this kind of talk kinda soothing."

"I can tell. Ya look like you’re gonna doze off on me."

"If it were feasible in a dream, then I would."

Boothill had become comfortable enough to entrust such a deeply hidden repressed feeling to you. In turn, you too felt much more at ease in his presence, knowing he was comfortable enough for such a thing. Beneath the stars, it was as if Penacony's sky was soothing the troubles of both of your golden hearts.

Your eyes began to feel heavy.

"I ain’t gonna bug ya if ya want a lil’ bit of shut-eye," Boothill said. "Stars are meant for sleepin’ under, after all."

He gently began to run his fingers through your hair, feeling as much as his cold metallic fingers would allow him to.

No use fighting back perhaps one of the first peaceful nights you two have shared in a while.

You closed your eyes.

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Sick and Tired

Summary: you can't say that anything about having a chronic illness is fun, but at least you have friends who care about you. 2.7k words

Disclaimer: GENDER NEUTRAL READER I wrote this in one go at like 3am. So. All of the brothers are in this but it's more platonic than anything else? If you want you can read it as romance because I did imagine kissing several of them on the mouth while writing it. also shout out to the author on ao3 that called Asmo "Momo" and then pointed out that it means "peach" in japanese. I did steal that nickname. lmk if it was you though bc I will credit you.

Notes: This is based on my own personal experience with a mystery disease that has been plaguing me since I hit puberty. I'm going to be very real, I wrote this for myself as a way to cope because I got #sad. it sucks, for sure, but there are some things that make it more bearable and isn't that how life works anyways?

The cool thing about being a human in what is essentially hell is that when diseases happen, you are more or less immune to them. The bad part about being a human in what is essentially hell is that you’re human and it’s essentially hell. Because of this, there are some things that you’ve had to explain to your housemates, or to an overeager Diavolo, or to a concerned Luke. You had to talk Lucifer down from renovating the whole House to put in an elevator because he was “worried about your flimsy human joints.”

“I have bad joints, regardless.” You remember saying, “I’m a human, it comes with the territory. Don’t put an elevator in the House, I don’t like them anyway.”

You’ve had to explain that while you’re grateful that they managed to find vitamin D supplements, they’re meant to be just that, a supplement to spending time in the sun, something the Devildom doesn’t have. So while your symptoms have been alleviated, they have not been fixed. Levi fixed this by buying you something like a heat lamp.

“Where did you even find this?” You’d said after he’d forced you underneath it.

“You’re gonna hate the words that are going to come out of my mouth.” His hands stilled from where they were busy attaching it to the wall by your bed.

“Just tell me.”

“Some demons used to, emphasis on ‘used to’, own humans as pets. So they made these little lamps to mimic the sun or whatever.” You blink at him, rapid fire before shrugging a little.

“Humans used to own each other.” He turns his head to gape at you like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah it was a whole thing. There are still lasting repercussions that echo through our modern society.”

“That’s insane.”

“I thought I told you before that human cruelty knows no bounds.”

Solomon of course, is no help, because while he may be human, he is old. You’d complained of jaw pain once, something about your teeth aching.

“It might be a demon.” He’d said this confidently at the one dinner a month he’s allowed to have with the brothers. As per the dating-Asmo-agreement he made with Lucifer.

“It might be a what?” Satan’s head whipped towards Solomon so fast you thought he broke something.

“A demon. Tooth pain is caused by little demons in the teeth.” You stared at him like he grew a second head.

“No, it’s not. It’s caused by bacteria eating away at your teeth. And that’s just for cavities. This could be something completely different. Also, I don’t think humans have believed the demon teeth thing in forever. God, you’re old.” Your frustrated rebuttal of Solomon’s “wisdom” had not stopped the brothers from checking you up and down for curses or signs of possession.

So, for the most part. It’s fine, and you don’t mind explaining these things to them just like they don’t mind explaining demon culture to you. This though, you’ve never been able to explain to anyone, so you can’t explain it to them either.

—

“I’m so tired,” it’s noon and you woke up from sleeping two hours earlier. Asmo has dragged you out of the house for some shopping spree, and while you were excited to go, your energy levels have quickly depleted.

“But darling! We just started!” Despite saying this, he’s walking towards the register with the clothes he’s decided he likes, willing to cut his trip short if it’s for you. You shake your head.

“No, no, keep shopping. I’m always tired, Peach.” He hums and goes back to perusing the shelves while you stay seated by the dressing room for his mini fashion shows.

You don’t just get tired while hanging out with Asmo, it happens everywhere. Beel has to catch your head when you almost faceplant into your lunch. You spend a Devildom History class fighting to keep your eyes open while Satan takes twice the amount of notes as usual so you don’t fall behind. Levi asks you to watch a special livestream of a Sucre Frenzy concert and you have to sit down halfway through because you’re suddenly dizzy. You even fall tired while driving Mammon’s car, once.

He’d been in the passenger seat, fretting over your every move, and you’d understood despite the fact that it was incredibly annoying. This car was his baby, something he was incredibly proud of, something he worked hard to get. Still, having someone freak out over your driving usually makes it worse.

You’d been gently reassuring him of your skills when you felt it, the familiar pull of your eyelids, the way your brain seemed to slow down. It takes you a second longer than it should to register the red light and you have to slam on the brakes to avoid running it. It’s not too soon after that when you decide to pull over and have Mammon drive you home. You fall asleep on the way back.

—

This all comes to a head when you manage to outsleep Belphie.You aren’t sure how you did it, honestly. You went to bed on Friday afternoon and vaguely remember being woken up because a meal was ready. You remember making some sort of affirmative noise and then going back to sleep. You have hazy memories of stumbling to the bathroom and chugging down bottles of water, but mostly it was just sleep. Then, Belphie is shaking you awake. He’s saying something you can’t quite hear and Beel is picking you up and carrying you to the living room and the lights are so bright it turns your brain back on.

“Belphie, did you do somethin’?” It’s Mammon’s voice, accusatory. Someone pokes your cheek.

“So you kill a guy once and suddenly everything that happens to them is your fault?” His reply makes you snort.

“Did you or not?”

“No. This is… this is something else.” He sighs and then one of your eyelids is being manually opened so he can make eye contact with you before he lets go and your head drops slightly. “I know what my sin feels like. I know what Sloth feels like. It’s a choice, mostly. It’s the action of choosing to do nothing rather than something. This is something else. Something completely different.” You yawn and scrub at your eyes, finally opening them to stare at your posse.

“Did I get a fanclub while I was napping?”

“You’ve always had a fanclub,” Levi says quietly.

“Napping? You call that a nap?” Asmo pokes your cheek and you assume he’s the one who did it the first time.

“How do you know they have a fanclub?” Satan turns his head to Levi and his brother turns a bright shade of red.

“I’m the president.” He says. Beel raises his hand.

“I’m VP. We hold meetings every Wednesday. Lucifer pretends it’s stupid but he’s always in the club room ‘doing student council work’.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Lucifer finally interjects, not wanting to deal with his brothers’ needling. Satan grumbles something about him being a loser under his breath. “Are you aware of how long you were asleep for?”

“I mean, I dunno,” you stretch your arms above your head and almost hit someone in the face. “I remember someone coming to me about dinner, so probably a while. Why?” Lucifer sighs and rubs a hand down his face.

“It’s Sunday afternoon.” You stare at him blankly.

“This is the worst joke you’ve ever told.”

“I am not joking,” he says and Levi shoves his D.D.D under your nose. Sure enough it says that today, the day you are finally awake, is Sunday. It says that it’s 2pm. You’ve slept for almost a full 48 hours. The thought brings tears to your eyes immediately and Levi freaks out.

“No wait, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when you cry!” His hands are flapping around your face uselessly and it makes you laugh and choke on a wet sob.

“You can back the fuck up, for starters.” Satan bodily pushes his brothers out of the way to get to you, placing a box of tissues on your lap and sitting next to you. Not close enough to touch, but enough so you know he’s there.

“Sorry,” you take a tissue and blow your nose. Beel holds out a trashcan and Asmo pretends not to be disgusted. It’s sweet. “Crying in front of people is so cringe.”

“Being vulnerable and crying is not something you should be ashamed of,” Lucifer says and it’s weird to have your own words parroted back at you.

“Why’re you apologizin’ anyway? ‘S not like you did anythin’ wrong. We’re just worried is all.” Mammon runs a hand over your hair as he says it before remembering himself and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s never been this bad before. I’ve never slept for damn near two days.”

“So this is a recurring problem?” Satan has procured a notebook from out of nowhere and has his hand poised to write down what you’re saying. Presumably to go scour his books for a solution.

“Yeah. It’s … I’m tired a lot. Always, really. I’m tired right now, actually. Sometimes it’s worse than others but … I don’t really know what’s wrong.” You huff, “I was actually in the process of getting tests done to figure it out when I got magic-ed here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Asmo is resting his head on your shoulder and you tilt your head so it rests on his.

“Not really. ‘M sorry, Peach. I’d tell you if there was.”

“I always wondered why you had such deep eyebags. I thought it was something in your skincare routine.”

“It’s also genetic.”

“Humans have genes for dark under eyes?” He sounds horrified at the prospect.

“Sure do.”

“That’s miserable.” You laugh at him and he squeezes your hand gently.

“So, yer just… tired.” Mammon asks.

“Mhm.”

“Chronically.”

“Also yes.”

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘chronic’, Mammon,” Belphie ribs Mammon from his spot on the floor. You kick him slightly.

“Don’t be an ass.” He sighs dramatically and flops over onto his back.

“It’s good to know it’s not a freaky demon thing.” He peers up at you from underneath his bangs.

“Yeah. I’m kind of tired of dealing with freaky demon things. No offense.” There’s a chorus of agreement throughout the room and you can see everyone relax a little now that they know.

“It is a shame though,” Lucifer says, “that it is not demon related.” His brow furrows. “Those I can fix.” You shrug and slightly jostle Asmo’s head.

“Eh. That’s life. Thank you for being concerned though, I appreciate it.” Your stomach grumbles. “I guess I should eat, huh?” Asmo graciously lifts his head off your shoulder and you head to the kitchen, Beel on your tail.

“There’s nothing we can do?” He looks sad, and he’s rubbing his wrist in that way he does when he’s nervous. You’re struck with the realization that Beel is the defender of his family. He’s physically the biggest and the strongest, and he’s been looking after them and taking care of them physically for basically forever. It must be excruciating for him to not be able to help you.

“No,” you shake your head sadly, “I’m sorry, Bug.” You step forward and give him a hug. He returns it and you pretend you can’t feel him cry.

—

Things are different after that. Asmo tries to hang out with you in places closer to the House or in his room. Lucifer pulls you aside and tells you both his room and his study are always open for you if you need them. Beel takes you to the gym with him so you don’t stay too sedentary, but is always willing to stop working out if you need to go home. Satan almost gets into a physical altercation with a teacher over you sleeping in class and you find out later that Belphie gave him nightmares for a week. Levi doesn’t make you sit through as many anime binges anymore, instead separating them up into something more bite sized so you can properly enjoy it. It’s nice, you think, that they’re trying to take your needs into consideration.

Diavolo catches wind of it and sneaks his way over to the House to ask you questions. Walks into Lucifer’s study where you’re trying to do assigned reading like he owns it, and you think that he probably does in some way.

“Diavolo–” Lucifer stands up and Diavolo laughs.

“Don’t worry! There is nothing wrong! I just had some questions for our lovely exchange student.” He sits down in the armchair across from you and you set your notebook down.

“What’s up?” You can hear Lucifer mumbling prayers to a God who will no longer listen to them and it makes you snort.

“I have learned of your condition.”

“I gathered.”

“There is nothing I can do?”

“Do you have several degrees and a shit ton of fancy machinery?” Lucifer chokes at your language. Diavolo smiles at you.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Then, no. There isn’t.” He hums thoughtfully and you busy yourself with trying to figure out Lucifer’s Demonus organization pattern. It doesn’t seem to be by age, so maybe it’s by color?

“What does it feel like?” Diavolo’s question draws you out of your comparison of two almost identical wine reds. You think one has a brighter undertone but that could be the color of the label.

“Have you ever been tired?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever not slept, for like, a whole day, and you can feel that your brain isn’t working at maximum capacity?” He nods. “Have you ever felt like you were trying to run in a swimming pool?”

“I can run in swimming pools.” You roll your eyes.

“Can you run through slime?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s like that. It’s being so tired that you know you aren’t operating at your best and being able to do nothing about it. It’s like moving through water. It’s never getting enough sleep. I could sleep the perfect amount for a human my age and I would still be down to take several long naps throughout the day. And it’s not something I can ignore, either. I can’t just power through it. Because after a while, it starts to hurt.”

“Hurt?” He frowns, and it’s weird to see him not smiling.

“Yeah. It’s. When I get too tired my eyes will hurt. It feels like they’re grapes and someone is squishing the life out of them. It feels like a thousand tiny needles poking at my eyes. It feels like someone is squishing the bridge of my nose in their fist and refuses to let go. It makes my stomach hurt, it makes me nauseous and sick, and it makes me dizzy and it’s awful.”

“I see.”

“So, I have to sleep. I have to sleep because if I don’t it hurts and if I manage to get through that my body will make itself sleep, anyway. It’ll just turn off, regardless of if I want it to or not.”

“That. That is miserable. I am sorry you have to experience such a thing.” You shrug a little and stare at your hands.

“What can you do?” It comes out sarcastic and dry. There’s a silence, tense and weighty, and you know what he’s going to ask before he does.

“Do you need to go to the human world?” You can hear Lucifer’s sharp inhale even though he was pretending to not listen.

“Maybe. But, if it is what I think it is, it won’t go away. I’ll just know and get medication. Probably.” Diavolo stands and nods.

“At least you will know. I will figure something out for you.” He nods again, this time to himself. “There is no reason for you to suffer this way.”

“It won’t go away, Diavolo. I’ll still have it.” You need him to know this. You need him to know that it won’t be permanently fixed. You don’t want him to be disappointed when everything’s said and done and you’re still sick.

“Yes, but things will be better, no? Some progress is better than no progress, no matter how small.” He pauses and smiles at you, warm and comforting. “And we will all be there for you. Regardless of the outcome.”

[zoropookie]

WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — THREE

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

chapter two — chapter four

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

I need to run, like yesterday.

That was the only thought that multiplied in your mind, similar to a bird attempting to flock to their kin yet again. Your thought immediately shredded into tiny ribboned fabric and sawdust, scrambled and incoherent to you, no matter how much you attempted to find it.

Those footsteps were coming for you, no matter how close, no matter how far. Over something you thought you'd only see on TV, at that. Didn't even think murder was real until now. Your heart remained in your throat...until your fight or flight propelled you.

Your chest ached in uncertainty, not being able to breath as deeply as you needed to, too afraid of being caught, but not afraid enough to spot your next opening. Or to be more accurate, the opening in the bushes and greenery that lead back to your (probably compromised) apartment.

Who the fuck's idea was this to even "check out what was going on"? Oh...wait.

You propelled yourself off the wall to give yourself a boost in your sprint towards the bushes. Adrenaline took your body and shot within your veins like a bullet, legs stretching distances you didn't even think you could do before. The air of the night was thick to you, every sound was amplified in your ears— the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of the nearby city, and the brutal pounding of your own heartbeat urging you to just run.

Branches and thorns scraped against your skin as you dove into the nature, dense foliage closing around your costume like protective cocoon and also shredding some of the fabric that you wore. Making a swift turn, you ducked your whole body beneath the low rising canopy of the trees, loose material making small rips with each movement as some of the branches even scraped your face.. You couldn't mind it; you didn't dare stop.

Making a swift turn, you ducked your whole body beneath the low rising canopy of the trees.

Finally breaking out of the trees, the glare of the saturated orange street light broke your vision and you managed to find yourself staggering after the panic. You sucked in deep and uneven breaths, each one feeling like fire in your lungs. You wheezed, the pavement under your feet was a stark contrast to the pinching and piercing of the environment.

You held onto the light pole of the lamp post for dear life, trying to keep yourself on your feet. "Oooh," You groaned, wincing. "Shit..." You hissed in pain.

Glancing back, your heart moved with an uneven rhythm, urging you to keep moving. The quietness stretched far, which make you uneasy. It was dead quiet in the little suburban street stretching ahead, eerily still, the only sound was your manual breathing as you turned your head to look back.

Maybe he didn't see you after all?

You took this opportunity to remove all of the accessories that weren't completely ripped off your body, groaning at the dull ache that already surrounded your ankles from the stupid plastic/foam leggings you decided to wear with the costume as a joke. Wasn't very funny anymore, was it? The edges completely stabbed into your ankles when you were running, causing an open wound you had no choice but to limp on.

Starting your travels back home again, you walked, or rather limped across the parking lot of this permanently closed restaurant you used to go to all the time with Yoimiya. The breeze picked up rapidly, an icy whisper dragging against your bare skin in its undertones and leaving you chills on your body.

Sure enough, there that guy was. Stood directly under the street light, his cap still pulled down to hide his eyes and the cast of the light of an ominous shadow around him. He stood dead still. Watching you.

You were mortified, looking in disbelief as you stiffened. You didn't even know what to say, or respond with, other than scrambling back and hoping he got the hint that you didn't want issues.

He took long strikes, making your efforts useless. He gave a small and halfhearted laugh at your rigidness. "Relax," His voice smooth and light, void of burden as though he didn't just murk a guy X Games mode and you didn't just watch him. "I won't hurt you."

"You won't?" You said skeptically, a lot louder, and a lot more dull than anticipated. "Uh...could have had me fooled, mister...killer, psycho killer sir. Hey, we can always call truce, ya know? I know a few criminals myself, and uh...know what, let's just grab a bite to eat or something! My tr..eat!"

As he was still approaching you, and you were spluttering every single thought you had in mind to keep you at bay while treading back in a struggle, the breath that you just caught was knocked out of you like the wind. You stumbled back, falling straight on your ass just as he stalked towards you.

"Hm." He was practically stood over her, smiling at the sheer terror on your face. "You're so tense...so weak. I could snap your neck if I really wanted to."

"You...you definitely could, yeah!" You laughed nervously, a frown immediately lodging itself back onto your face after a moment. "Are you..?"

This close, you could see the drips and smears of blood that laced his hands and the side of his face. It made your stomach churn...and then you saw a mark on that same crimson hand.

A familiar mark? You would have elaborated further on that thought if the man didn't continue, "No." His lip twisted a little more. "I just thought of something a lot more fun."

"Like...bouncy-house fun, right?" You stammered. "Like...clown at a birthday party fun? Not my kind of fun, but still...pretty fun!"

"Sure." His voice remained silky, but a lot more sultry than you expected. It was like everything he did was something that he actually really got off to! "Eager to find out already?"

Oh my fucking god, you're in the presence of a necrophiliac, aren't you.

[e-spexially]

cowboy like me

pairing: billy the kid x lucy gray baird

summary: "sure would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances."

ib: these two edits by @lg.baird and @beatrixsfx on tiktok

note: this is purely self-indulgent, I saw these and felt SO angsty and inspired :(

The saloon was nicer than most that Billy had entered in the past. Smoke danced in the air and the room was dimly lit by the oil lamps placed on each table, giving the entire room a dreamy haze.

They even had live music. Not the kind where drunk men played the piano or gave some warbled rendition of an old folk tune, either. No, up on stage was a band. Two young women and two young men, playing instruments that appeared well cared for. The one singing looked to be the youngest of the bunch, blonde and fresh with her vocals.

It was a fast-paced melody and the already tipsy men and women of the saloon were on their feet in the small clearing between the tables that served as a dancefloor.

Billy walked up to the bar and bought himself a drink, trying to blend into the crowd. The music was a breath of fresh air from the constant drone of the outdoors he had been spending his time in lately. Being on the run was tiring and it was nice to finally sit in a real chair, surrounded by other people.

As he hunched over his drink, considering a game of poker, the song ended with a wave of applause, and the blonde girl spoke out to the crowd.

"Alright, y'all! For this next number, help me give a big, warm welcome to my cousin, Lucy Gray Baird!"

The blonde's energy was infectious and her request drew more applause from the crowd, even Billy. He supposed the group must have been well known, but he was out of the loop these days.

Then something unexpected happened. Onstage, walked one of the prettiest girls Billy had ever laid eyes on. Lucy Gray Baird was a dark-haired beauty, with a sweet smile and an air of confidence. His attention was hers without the girl even having to try. But then again, so was everyone else's. More applause rang out as she shot the crowd a smile, delicately cradling her shining, black guitar.

"Evenin', everyone!" She said to them in a melodic voice. "I hope y'all are enjoyin' the night so far. For this song, I'm gonna slow things down a bit and give everyone the chance to hold that special someone a little bit closer."

Billy felt the need to sit up straighter, to show that he was giving her performance the respect it deserved. And it truly did.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy and not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

As rough as a briar,

Like walking through fire

As Lucy Gray sang, he realized his father had been wrong before. The stars weren't a reflection of his own light, but hers. He'd spent countless hours staring at the night sky and he'd never met anyone that made him feel the way that view did. Not until tonight.

People were dancing, just as she had hoped. They held each other and swayed to the simple tune. She watched them proudly with a bright smile, as though her intention was merely to create the noise that seemed to move them, not be their sole focus. But he just couldn't help focusing on her, he couldn't look away. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary

It's why I need you

You're as pure as the driven snow

That's when they locked gazes with each other and the haze of the room matched the one he was feeling. Lucy Gray smiled a little wider when this happened and something inside him wondered if she knew what he was feeling. Did she? Or, better yet, did she feel it too?

The song continued and then ended, too quickly. She sang two more, their eyes meeting again and again. His drink was gone, the poker game long forgotten as well. Once her set reached its close, she immersed herself in the crowd with another young woman, the others onstage keeping the atmosphere going. Billy watched Lucy Gray being praised by many for her songs and smiled to himself.

She really deserved it. His leg bounced anxiously and the air felt electric, like something was fixing to happen. He knew what Jesse would say if he was here.

"Better make your move now, kid. 'Fore someone beats you to it."

Billy inhaled sharply, trying to give himself a boost of confidence. He suddenly felt thankful that he decided to wash before leaving the rooming house that night. Giving the bar a quick tap, he rose to his feet and made his way through the crowd to her.

She was in the middle of speaking to the women about her dress when he walked up, excusing himself and hoping she didn't find him rude for interrupting.

"Good evening." He held his hat against his chest. Lucy Gray stared up at him with a curious glimmer in her eye, catching sight of the pistol around his waist momentarily. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could buy you a drink?"

She looked pleasantly sheepish. Exchanging a quick word with the other women, she nodded.

"I don't see why not."

He breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for her to go first, setting his hat back atop his head. He didn't have much money left, but spending it on her felt like the right choice.

Purchasing two whiskeys, he handed her one and watched as she perched on the stool.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she spoke, taking a sip.

"Right," said the man, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it, as if he were afraid to get her dirty. "I'm Billy."

Lucy Gray smiled and shook his hand. It sent a jolt right through him and he averted his eyes for a moment. She stared at him thoughtfully, resting the whiskey glass against her shoulder.

"Are you enjoyin' the show, Billy?"

"Oh yeah," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "I liked that first song of yours, the one about the snow."

She looked pleased by this and he could tell she liked speaking about her music.

"Really? I'm glad to hear it!" Sipping her whiskey, she had an excited, almost nostalgic look in her eye. "I wrote that one a few months back when we were still up north. It snowed all the time up there and it just got me to feelin' inspired."

Billy leaned against the bar, taking in the smokiness of her voice. He could listen to her talk forever.

"Up north? You travel a lot?"

Lucy Gray nodded.

"Us Covey travel wherever the fancy takes us," she said. "We spent a good while doin' shows to keep ourselves fed and moved around until we needed more money. Then this fella named Jones picked us up somewhere in Sacramento and said he'd help us get our very own tour through the lower United States."

Moving from state to state by choice was a luxury he couldn't fathom. Ever since he was a boy, moving had been about survival. Billy thought he'd like to live a life like Lucy Gray's, to see the world of his own accord and not because he was running from something. He finished off his whiskey.

"That sounds nice, just bein' free," he mused, mainly to himself. This earned a head tilt from her and her mouth turned up in a small smile.

"I figured cowboys were as free as they come." That made him laugh and he set the glass down.

"I'm no cowboy."

"Well, you sure look the part," joked Lucy Gray. She looked around the saloon at the crowd and then her eyes found the dancefloor. "Hey, how 'bout a dance?"

Billy looked over his shoulder at the patrons slow dancing, feeling a bit more bold on account of the drinks he'd had. He glanced back at her and held out his hand.

"I don't see why not."

She drank the last of her whiskey before letting him lead her out onto the floor. He pulled her a bit closer, his hand finding her waist and hers his shoulder. Something about her demanded to be seen, to be admired. He might not have been the smartest when it came to women, but he knew from the start that she had all the control. What's more, he wasn't even sure it was intentional, but he knew he liked it.

As they danced, she studied his face a bit more.

"You're that outlaw, aren't you?" Billy felt his face flush and looked around for a moment before she laughed. "Don't worry, I wouldn't say anythin'. Not before I heard your story, anyways."

"My story?"

"Sure, everyone's got one." He pondered this for a moment, giving her a shrug.

"S'not exactly the kind people like to hear," he admitted. "It's got lots of sad bits."

"Well, those kinds of stories make the best songs." Lucy Gray looked up at him through her eyelashes. He wondered what his life would sound like through her pen, if she'd be able to take something dark like that and make it beautiful.

Maybe he'd tell her another time. He hoped there would be another time.

"I'll tell it to you someday." It felt like a promise, mainly to himself, that he'd see her again.

"I hope you will." She seemed content to let it rest at that for now. "Those posters don't do you justice, y'know? You're much more handsome up close."

A soft blush appeared on his face and he laughed it off.

"I'm sorry you had to see those, they're not exactly a likeness."

"You're right," she said gently. "I expected someone much scarier, the way people talk about you."

Billy's heart sank a bit at that. He hoped she hadn't heard anything too bad and if it was the truth being passed around, he only hoped she wouldn't judge him for it.

"I hope you'll give me a chance to prove that m'not so scary."

"Don't worry, gorgeous, I don't scare easily." He chuckled and she leaned in a bit. "This is the part where you spin me."

"Yes ma'am," the man drawled, obliging by holding onto her fingertips and twirling her around. Lucy Gray moved gracefully and she gave off the scent of fresh linen with a hint of wildflowers. He imagined her traveling through a field of them somewhere, carrying her guitar in one hand and a suitcase of all her belongings in the other.

What did she take with her? Were there pictures, family heirlooms she held dear enough to carry on her travels? Billy thought back to his mother's gold ring that rested in his pack back in the room he was renting. Did Lucy Gray have anything that precious to her?

She giggled as she spun back into him, bringing that field of flowers right with her. He maneuvered her around into a smooth circle around him before wrapping an arm around her torso.

"You're not bad on the dancefloor for an outlaw!" She said.

"All that time on the run, you get good on your feet," he joked. He savored the laughter that left her chest. It felt genuine and warm, just like her.

The song ended and she went to hold his hands in her own, smiling up at him as the crowd began thinning, the blonde on stage announced that the band would be heading out for the night.

"Thank you for this, Billy," beamed Lucy Gray. "It's just been wonderful."

He nodded earnestly, hoping he had made an impression.

"No, thank you. I can't remember the last time I had a drink and a dance with a nice girl, especially one as pretty as you." Her eyes sparkled at that, almost like she didn't want it to end. He knew he didn't. "Could I walk you out?"

She agreed and they returned to the stage to retrieve Lucy Gray's guitar, along with the bottles of whiskey given by the owner for their work. Then they headed out behind the saloon with the rest of the band, the others buzzing in excitement about the energy of the audience.

"These Texans sure do like their dancing. And their bars!"

"I'll say, you see that man spinnin' his wife around? I thought they were both liable to topple over the way he was drinking!

They were walking in the direction of a small cabin that resided some yards away from the building, a lamp left on the dirt by the front step. It looked cozier than the rooming house for sure.

Billy stopped just as the band piled into the cabin, leaving the door open for Lucy Gray. He could hear the chatter continue from inside.

"Will I see you again? I'd sure like to hear another one of your songs."

"You might see me around. If you're on the run like you say you are, we'll cross paths again."

He hoped so. God, did he hope so.

"You have a lovely voice, my mother would have liked to hear you sing." Lucy Gray sensed the twinge of sadness in the tone and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"They're never far, the ones we love." She studied him for a moment before plucking the striped feather from her dark curls and holding it out to him. "Here, take this. Add some life into that hat of yours."

He huffed in amusement at the feather but took it and tucked it into the band of his old hat.

"How do I look?"

"Like a cowboy." Lucy Gray nodded approvingly. "I hope you could return it to me someday soon?"

"Oh, you bet."

"Good," she said. "You still owe me that story, William H. Bonney."

McCarty, Billy wanted to tell her. His name was McCarty.

"And then you still owe me a song," he replied lightly, deciding against it. Lucy Gray nodded, looking wistful.

"You got yourself a deal." She held her hand out to him and they stayed there for a moment, hands joined. Could he say goodbye? Did he even have a choice? Lucy Gray was free and he wasn't. Sure, he could have joined her on her travels, but no good came with moving alongside an outlaw.

No, none of that. For tonight, he'd let her go and pray that fate would bring them together again.

"Good night, Lucy Gray." He spoke first. She smiled up at him and gave his hand a single shake.

"Good night, Billy."

After that, he watched her walk into the cabin and shut the door, but not before giving him a final wink. Once she was out of sight, he let out a deep sigh. It felt like he'd just woken up from a dream, the good kind that you hope you have again.

Feeling his boldness leaving him and the night's activities taking their toll, he turned on his heel and started for the rooming house, humming Lucy Gray's song all the while.